Mrs. Coleman pressed both hands to her belly, leaning towards him. “You found Mr. Coleman?”
Charles’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but enough so that Kit noted the bewilderment. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
Kit advanced, trailing a hand at the woman as a sort of makeshift introduction. “This is Mr. Coleman’s wife, my client who is looking for him. Did you happen to see a baby with the man? Think hard.” She peered up at him. “It’s very important.”
But he didn’t think at all, not if the quick shake of his head were any indication. “No. The man was busy sweeping the big top, but I did get a good look at him, and he matches the description you gave me to a tee. Remember that torn handbill I found in the flat? It’s my guess the man ripped off the address and applied to be a broom pusher. Perfect place to hide while waiting for the show to move on.”
“True.” Kit tapped her lip. She should have thought of that…and she would have were her brain not so deuced tired from sleepless nights.
“But,” Charles continued, “that doesn’t mean the man hasn’t left the child to be cared for by someone else while he works. I’ll let you know when we turn the place upside down. I’m sure to find him and the babe.” He pivoted to Jackson. “That is if I have your permission to organize a squad immediately.”
“Mmm,” Jackson grumbled, absently smoothing his moustache. Kit hid a smirk. She knew that action intimately well. Hundreds of calculations were going on in his mind, too fast for him to explain, all weighing the risks and benefits of the proposal. At least this time she wasn’t on the receiving end of the final outcome…for rarely did a positive answer come without conditions.
Jackson hooked his thumbs beneath his lapels. “Did you see Spaddy with your own eyes?”
“No,” Charles said. “The snake’s hiding in the grass, but I have it on good authority.”
“How good?”
“Verygood.”
“I see…” He thought a beat longer before clapping Charles on the back. “Then Godspeed.”
Kit’s jaw dropped as Charles raced away. Why did her husband never give her such wholehearted approval whenever she made requests? Granted, hers didn’t usually involve asking for backup before dashing into trouble, but this time it did, so he had no reason whatsoever to deny her now.
“Grab your hat, Husband.” She bounced on her toes. “We’ve not a minute to spare if you’re to help me find my man at the circus.”
“The only thing I’m grabbing is this.” He doubled ’round to the back side of his desk and picked up a large coil of rope, then swung it over his shoulder. “I have a prisoner to interrogate. Two, actually. Gruver’s partner Blackjack was hauled in early this morning, and I’ve got something special planned for the pair.”
Her brow bunched. Who cared about them now that she knew where Coleman was?
“But Jackson—”
He held up a palm, cutting her off. “When you barreled in here, you were quite keen on me gathering information about who hired those enforcers that chased you and Baggett…and that’s what I intend to do. So, step aside, please.”
Ooh. Stubborn man. She planted her feet lest she stamp one. “That was before Mr. Baggett spotted Mr. Coleman.”
“Baggett is more than capable of rounding up your man along with Spaddy. He knows who you’re looking for. In fact…” He ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “All you need do is check back here this afternoon and I’m sure you’ll find both Mr. Coleman and hopefully the child. I’ll send word to your office the moment he shows up. In the meantime, I have business to attend.”
She turned her face away from his touch. “You know as well as I that the second those bluecoats set foot inside that circus, my man will take a dive—andtake the child right along with him.”
“Trust the process, Wife. Trust Baggett. These are trained men who know what they’re about, and I believe you already gave me your word you would do no rescuing of your own. Now, I really must be going. I’m late enough as is.” He brushed a kiss to her brow and darted around her.
Kit stood motionless, debating if she ought to trust Mr. Baggett to haul in Mr. Coleman or not. She should, she supposed. He was a fine officer who kept a calm head yet strong arm in the midst of chaos. Mr. Baggett would catch her man. Besides, she had not only promised her father she’d be back in a trice but she’d also vowed to Jackson she’d merely locate Lillibeth, not rescue her. She really ought to honour her husband’s wishes. Mind made up, she whirled to tell Mrs. Coleman the plan.
But there was no woman waiting near the door.
For a moment, Kit stood stunned. All the doubts she’d been storing away about Mrs. Coleman roared back with a vengeance. What if—and it was a wickedly horrible if—Mr. Coleman was protecting Lillibeth from Mrs. Coleman, not the other way around? The thought washed over her like ice water.
Then she tore out the door. She had to warn Mr. Coleman.
Chapter Fifteen
Jackson jogged down the stairs to the holding cells, the morning’s chaos settling in his gut about as well as the burnt porridge Kit had served for breakfast. Catchpole had told him the most fantastical tale about how he’d tried to reconcile with his estranged brother only to be humiliated by the man in front of the entire House of Lords. It was a hard story to swallow, for the guard on duty would have never let a lunatic in a masquerade mask inside the palace. More than likely the man was delusional. Or—giving Catchpole the benefit of the doubt—perhaps he had tried to make amends with his brother and the event was so traumatic, he’d merely felt like he’d been dressed down in front of Parliament. He did have a flair for the dramatic. He really should have become an actor or at least a solicitor.
Jackson plowed his fingers through his hair. Whatever the case, he had no idea how to counsel the man to proceed. What did he know of such family matters? He barely understood his relationship with Kit. No, this was a problem better addressed by a clergyman, and he would suggest the idea next time Catchpole showed up.
“Mornin’, Chief.” Constable Barrycloth’s baritone voice cut into his thoughts as Jackson left the stairwell. The big bear of a man held out a swinging pair of darbies, chains clinking. “Here ye be.”
