She dashed away before Bella realized she was leaving and turned on the tears—which was sure to make her father change his mind. But as soon as she closed the door, she immediately regretted her words. This could take quite a bit longer than a trice.
For Mrs. Coleman strode her way.
Chapter Fourteen
Charles wasn’t sure what he expected when he and Martha stepped past the Gilliam’s Circus Royal perimeter rope, but this chaos wasn’t it. Not this early in the day. Didn’t these performers need their sleep for tonight’s exhibition?
As they strode the narrow lanes of the workers’ tents behind the big top, he kept a sharp eye out for a man with a strawberry-sized birthmark on his cheek—the best way to identify Martha’s brother, according to her. The man had been born Elroy Charles Blandin, but who knew if he went by his given name. Like as not, he didn’t. Didn’t seem as if anyone here did, judging by the names painted above the tent doors. Hemmy Manchu, fire breather. Lulu Begonia, snake charmer. Greenzie Gabon, monkey man.
Charles steered Martha around a peacock and nearly rammed into a rack of machetes. No matter where you turned, dangers abounded. Why, this maze was no different than a back-alley jaunt through Spitalfields. Same freak shows. Same noxious smells. Even the catcalls, the whistles, and the din of so many people in such a small area was the same…though Charles did do a double take as a bearded woman passed by. Now that was something he didn’t see every day.
Martha stopped suddenly, eyes narrowed. Several tents down, a rake-thin man was about to strap on a garishly painted sandwich board.
“Is that your brother?” he asked.
She nodded, her lips flattening. Her big blue eyes peered up at him, along with a light touch to his sleeve. “Ye don’t have to do this, Mr. Baggett. The circus will be moving on next week, and so will Roy.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t return or try to harm you again before he leaves.” He patted her hand. “Don’t fret. I can handle this. Why don’t you wait here? Only not so close to that rack of knives.”
She pulled back her hand and lifted her chin. “No. I’d rather come along.”
He really wished she wouldn’t, but how to refuse that adorable set of her jaw? Bah! But he was far too soft when it came to this woman. Even so, he stopped her a good ten paces out of reach from the man. “Roy?” he called.
“Aye?” The man turned from his signboard. Sure enough, a red mark marred his right cheek close to his eye. The same dark golden hair as Martha’s framed his gaunt face, albeit chopped short and slicked down. His eyes were a darker shade of blue, the colour of twilight, hiding secrets. Charles knew the type. This man drifted through life from one shadow to the next.
When Roy’s gaze slid to Martha, his whole face hardened to flint. “What ye doin’ here, Sister?”
Charles tucked her behind him. So instant was the dislike burning in his gut, he already regretted the promise he’d made not to harm this man. “I’d like a few words with you.”
“That so?” He widened his stance, a scrapper of a move. “And who are ye, then?”
“Inspector Charles Baggett, Old Jewry Precinct.”
A vein pulsed on his skinny neck. Fear? Contempt? Probably both. He jerked his chin, stubble dark against the morning light. “I ain’t done nothin’.”
“You’ve done more than any man should. I’ve seen your sister’s face.”
He craned his neck, peering around Charles at Martha. “Ye ratted on me? Ye worthless piece of—”
That did it.
Despite Martha’s protests, Charles grabbed great handfuls of the man’s shirt and hoisted him up, feet dangling, wishing more than anything to choke the breath out of him. “Mind your tongue,” he growled. “Or I know where there’s a whole rack of knives to take care of the problem.”
Roy’s face twisted into a sneer, but such bravado did nothing to disguise the fear flashing in his eyes.
“Mr. Baggett!” Martha stepped up to his side. “Ye said ye’d not harm him.”
“So I did.” He released the man with a little shove.
Catching his balance, Roy straightened his wrinkled shirt, a scowl tugging at his brow. “I’ve got work to do, so drop yer load, bobby, then be off.”
Charles folded his arms, jutting his jaw at the same time, an intimidating position he’d perfected over the years. “Martha tells me you’ve been trying to get money off her. That stops now.”
Roy’s gaze roved from him to her, the curl of his upper lip looking as if he sucked on lemons. “Aye. She weren’t givin’ me none anyway.”
“Ye know I cannot abide gamblin’ or carousin’, Brother.”
“Weren’t for that, which ye’d know”—he stabbed his finger towards her—“if ye’d have given me two shakes of a listen.”
