Only him.
At least here in Brighton.
Well, why not?
They were all rather suspect.
His face swam in her mind. Dark eyes, a jagged line marring one cheek, the sort of mouth that looked more accustomed to command than to speak any kindness. For one unwelcome instant, she could almost hear his voice again, low and rough-edged, which left its mark long after the words themselves had faded.
Brighton Brute,indeed. The name fit him.
“Well, I certainly won’t keep you from your entertainment,” Violet said after a moment, surprising herself. “Once you’re done with your deliveries, you may go.”
Angelica motioned them to take the baskets, which they did, before rushing off.
“Don’t run!” Angelica called after them. “Honestly, these boys!” She turned to Violet. “Don’t mind them, Miss Sharpe. Those fights have an air of defiance and danger. Part of the thrill was being somewhere you shouldn’t be.”
The folly of all men.
Of course, thrill was also a word best reserved for people who had never been punished for disobedience. Even so, she couldunderstand the allure. Hadn’t she been punished enough in the past to know?
“How many times must I ask you to call me Violet before you listen to me?”
Angelica chuckled and disappeared behind the curtain. Violet turned back to work when she spotted the leaflet in her hand. She unfolded the paper curiously. And for the third time that day, she froze. Not only did coldness wash over her...
But also dread.
She pressed the leaflet flat on the table, as though the simple act might steady her pulse.
No, Violet.
He was London’s problem,notBrighton’s. Whatever life he lived now, that life had nothing to do with hers.
Unless hewascurrently in Brighton.
Don’t panic. It could be someone else.
Bullocks. Who else would dare fight under the name Bulldog buthim? He’d destroy anyone else who did. And what was with this wording?
PRIZEFIGHT!
This night at nine o’clock, theBRIGHTON BRUTEchallenges anyLONDON BULLDOGwho is brave enough to prove his bite. Cowards need not answer.
How strange.
And nine o’clock?
Hadn’t the boys wished to run off this afternoon?
There must be more fights.
But only this one interested Violet. Her mind denied it, though every sensible argument agreed. She ought to burn the leaflet straight away, reduce it to ashes, ignore it, and laugh at the notion that it could possibly concern her. Even if he werehere in Brighton, all she had to do was remain in her shop until he left. Pip and Terry would certainly keep her informed on the matter. And yet the words glared up at her, black and daring, as if inked solely for her eyes.
Cowards need not answer.
What on earth was that about? A taunt? Who had set up this match? For whatever reason, she couldn’t imagine the “Brighton Brute” stooping to such a level as to do this. No matter who, no matter what, Violet had to be sure.
She studied the address, searching her memory, but the name didn’t stir any recollections. Of course, finding a street was just a matter of asking around. Brighton was hardly so vast a place that a determined woman could not locate a direction or two if she put her mind to it. Still, that did not mean she should go looking for trouble. How easy would it be to pretend she had never seen this advertisement? To tuck the matter away, return to her shop, and let the day pass as any other. Sensible people did exactly that. Sensible people minded their business.
