A Dangerous Pursuit (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 1) Laura Beers (well read books .TXT) 📖

“I agree,” Madalene said. “Jane and I were exceptionally close during our time at Miss Bell’s.”

Mrs. Foster glanced over at the footman standing near the door and lowered her voice. “Don’t you find it rather peculiar that her brother, Lord Hawthorne, hasn’t been seen in polite Society for three years?”

“I do not.”

“Many speculate that he is dead.”

Shrugging, Madalene said, “I care not what the gossipmongers say, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Perhaps he is an invalid and can’t get out of bed?” Mrs. Foster mused.

“Or he is perfectly well and abhors Society.”

Mrs. Foster shook her head. “That can’t possibly be it. A marquess can’t abhor Society.”

“Whyever not?”

“It just simply isn’t done.”

Madalene laughed. “I daresay your argument is rather faulty,” she teased.

“It is entirely too early in the morning to argue with you,” Mrs. Foster said amusedly, placing her fork on her plate.

The butler stepped into the room. “Mr. Payne has arrived, Miss,” he announced. “He is waiting for you on the lawn.”

“Thank you, Graham,” Madalene acknowledged as she pushed her chair back.

“Do be careful,” Mrs. Foster remarked. “After your last boxing lesson, you had bruises on your arms that we had to conceal with powder.”

“I will be mindful of that.”

Madalene exited the room and stopped at a table in the entry hall to pick up her mufflers. The padded gloves helped her greatly during her boxing lessons. She headed towards the rear of the townhouse and a footman opened the door for her. He discreetly followed her outside and stood guard.

“Miss Dowding,” Mr. Payne greeted in a pleasant tone as he put his own mufflers on.

Madalene stopped a short distance away and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Payne.” She took a moment to study her young, slender teacher. He was dressed in a brown jacket with a matching waistcoat and buff trousers. She always thought he looked deucedly uncomfortable as he sparred with her.

“Put your mufflers on, if you don’t mind,” Mr. Payne ordered.

Slipping her hands into the padded gloves, Madalene motioned to the footman, who quickly tied the strings to secure them onto her hands before returning to his post.

“Are you ready to start your boxing lesson?” Mr. Payne asked as he punched his two tan mufflers together.

“I am.”

“Good,” Mr. Payne said. “Adopt the proper posture, please.”

Madalene set her body by placing her shoulders forward, slightly bending her knees and bringing her fists up.

Mr. Payne nodded approvingly. “That is good,” he declared. “Now, I want you to hit me as hard as you can.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she attempted.

“Hit me,” he ordered.

In a swift motion, Madalene brought her fist up and hit him squarely in the jaw, causing him to stagger back.

Mr. Payne looked at her in surprise. “That was an impressive blow,” he said as he brought his muffler up to rub his reddened jaw. “You must be practicing at your country estate.”

“I have been.”

“Well, I won’t be underestimating you again, that is for sure.” Mr. Payne walked closer to her and stopped.

Madalene gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“This is boxing,” Mr. Payne said. “You don’t apologize for a well-timed blow.” He brought his mufflers back up. “Are you ready for round two?”

“I am.”

They continued to spar on the lawn until the sun was high in the sky. Madalene felt the sweat trickle down her back as she blocked his blows and returned a few of her own.

Mr. Payne put his gloves up and stepped back. “I believe our lesson is over,” he announced, his breathing labored.

“Must it be?”

Chuckling, Mr. Payne said, “You have become an admirable opponent, Miss Dowding.”

“That is kind of you to say.” Madalene motioned again to the footman, who untied the strings of her mufflers, and she removed them from her hands.

“There is nothing kind about it,” Mr. Payne pressed. “It is merely the truth.”

Another footman approached them with a tray in his hands and extended it towards them. Madalene accepted a glass of water and took a long, lingering sip.

“How long do you anticipate being in Town?” Mr. Payne asked as he removed his mufflers.

“Only for a few more days.”

“Would you care for another lesson before you depart?”

Madalene placed her empty glass back onto the tray. “I would, very much so,” she replied eagerly.

“In two days’ time, then?”

“That would be delightful.”

With a slight bow, Mr. Payne said, “Good day, Miss Dowding.”

She tipped her head in response. “Good day, Mr. Payne.”

The words had barely left her mouth when the butler approached and announced, “Mr. Walker is here to see you, Miss.”

“Will you show him into the drawing room?”

“As you wish,” Graham replied before rushing off to do her bidding.

Pointing towards the townhouse, Madalene asked her boxing instructor, “Would you care to exit out the main door this time?”

Mr. Payne shook his head. “I shall depart through the back fence, assuming you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” she replied. “Whatever is most convenient for you.”

With a parting smile, Mr. Payne turned and started walking towards the back fence. She couldn’t help but smile when she heard him whistling a jaunty tune.

Madalene headed towards her townhouse and extended her mufflers to the waiting footman. She found herself curious as to why her solicitor had decided to call upon her. Did I forget about an appointment, she wondered.

Stopping at a large oval mirror in the entry hall, Madalene saw that her face was still flushed, and tendrils had escaped her tight chignon. She tucked the locks of brown hair behind her ears and smoothed down her pale blue cotton gown.

“Oh, dear,” she muttered under her breath, “I’m afraid it won’t get much better than this.” She didn’t dare take the time to go change; that would make Mr. Walker wait entirely too long.

Madalene stepped into the drawing room and saw her stout solicitor staring out the window, his hands behind his back. He was wearing a plain grey suit with matching trousers and his brown hair was combed neatly to the side.

“Good morning, Mr. Walker,” she greeted politely.

Dropping