“No offense intended, sir. Yet surely you must agree there are easier places to defend.”
“Such as?” Kit scrambled after Bella before she crawled out the sitting room door. “Even the station didn’t prove too hard for Carky to breach.”
Oof. That truth smarted. As chief inspector, he needed to do something about station security—once his infernal paperwork was finished.
Ifit ever was.
Graybone waved his cigar at Coleman. “Seems to me we ultimately need to get Coleman here in the hands of the court so he can testify against Mr. Blade’s embezzling scheme—which I suspect could be tied in with Bellow. So, if the court is our aim, then why not house him with a barrister? I know of one who’s willing to take in high-risk witnesses, least he was that one time…” He went back to rolling the cigar in his fingers. “Quite the layout, though. Inner rooms. Armed guards.”
Interesting. Usually barristers were puffed-up old shirts, unwilling to so much as share a breadcrumb let alone their home. Jackson cocked his head. “Who is it?”
“Barrister Muddlethorpe.”
Muddlethorpe!Old soft lips? The squeaker? The timid titmouse rumoured to have once fainted dead away when approaching the bar? Jackson scrubbed his knuckles along his chin. “I never would have suspected.”
“No one would, which is exactly why it will work.” Graybone returned his cigar to the box. “As long as he agrees, that is.”
“Excuse me, everyone.” Mr. Coleman cleared his throat. “Not that I am ungrateful for the thought you are putting into moving me to a safer location, but therein lies a danger no one has yet mentioned. The move. What’s to keep me safe while traveling from here to there?”
Jackson faced the man. “Though we may not look it at the moment, the three of us are a formidable foe with which to reckon, not to mention we shall have all the backing of the Old Jewry station.”
Mr. Coleman narrowed his eyes. “Weren’t you just complaining about staff shortages a moment ago?”
“Short-staffed or not”—Graybone slapped down the lid of the cigar box—“there are no finer officers in all of London.”
Jackson’s chest swelled at the praise. “Then we are agreed. We’ll meet tomorrow to draw up a course of action—probably at the station, though. I don’t think we ought to attract any further attention to this place by meeting here. Until then, Mr. Coleman, you’re in good hands with my father-in-law, and I have no doubt he’ll keep you well armed when he must leave you.”
“I didn’t say I agreed to the plan.” Mr. Coleman rubbed his hands along his thighs, back and forth, his voice twitchy.
Kit frowned at him. “Have you a better plan in mind, sir?”
His lips pinched. “No.”
Jackson stood. “Then with that, my family and I bid you gentlemen a good night.” He tipped his head at Coleman and Graybone, then swung Bella—and her dolly—up into his arms. “Come along, Wife.”
As Kit said her goodbyes, he strode from the room, whispering into Bella’s ear as he went. “Papa.”
“Ba-ba!” she squealed, then popped her thumb in her mouth as she laid her head against his shoulder.
He kissed her curly crown, her hair soft as dandelion fluff against his lips, then grabbed his hat and opened the door for his wife. When she was out of hearing range, a ragged sigh deflated him. As hard as it would be for them to get Coleman to the barrister’s home, what he and Kit were about to do next would be even harder.
Hugging Bella tight, Kit laid her free hand on Jackson’s arm, stopping him from pushing open the soup kitchen door. Not much light from the streetlamp stretched its arm this far away from the pavement, but the thin illumination was enough to see the anguish deepening a storm in his eyes.
“Is there no other way?” She already knew the answer, felt it like a lump of hardening plaster in her belly.
Jackson’s jaw tensed. “Have you thought of any?”
“If I had, we wouldn’t be standing here now.” Which meant there was no other way, or perhaps motherhood had drained her to the dregs of her mental capabilities.
“I am sorry, my love.” He ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek, his touch shivering along her skin with a distinct tremble. “I wish I could make this easier for you.”
“I know.” And though she said so, sweet heavens, how she wished she’d never have to experience the depth of this despair.
Jackson pushed open the door.
Kit hesitated, whispering all the love that threatened to choke her into Bella’s ear. “Mama—” She swallowed, the world turning blurry. “Mama loves you, little one. Very much.”
Strangling a sob, she followed the broad back of her husband into the soup kitchen, steeling herself for what lay ahead.
