Page 47 of The Time for Love
Sophy glowered back.
Charlie moistened his lips. “I…ah, wanted to check something.”
“At midnight?” Incredulity rang in her voice. “What the devil would you be checking? You know nothing about the business.”
His expression impassive, Martin halted on Sophy’s left, while Oliver drifted right, effectively flanking the pair.
Charlie had no option but to face his highly irate cousin and answer her questions. His gaze flicked to Martin, then to Oliver; he comprehended his position well enough.
Sophy lost what little patience she possessed. Narrowing her eyes on her cousin’s face, she said, “Is it you, Charlie? Are you the one who’s been causing accidents at the steelworks?”
Charlie blinked, then frowned. “What?”
“There’ve been accidents at the steelworks,” she said. “One after another after another. Accidents that couldn’t possibly be accidental! Someone has been attacking the steelworks by engineering increasingly dangerous incidents, and what I want to know is”—she unfolded her arms and stepped closer; his eyes flaring at whatever he saw in her face, Charlie edged back—“areyouthe one behind the attack that almost killed me?”
Charlie’s instinctive recoil and the horror in his face told their own story. “No!” Then his brain caught up with the enormity of what she’d said. “Wait…what?” He stared at her, stunned, shocked, and totally confused. “Sophy, what the devil’s going on?”
Martin looked at Sophy and watched the steely strength that had infused her leach away. She’d seen Charlie’s confusion and accepted it as genuine.
She studied his face for an instant more, then sighed. “What’s going on? That’s what we’d hoped you would be able to tell us.”
“Me?” After a second of studying her dejected expression, Charlie raised his gaze to Martin, then looked at Oliver. “Us?”
Sophy waved a hand and introduced Martin and Oliver.
Martin nodded briefly, as did Oliver. Warily, Charlie nodded back, understanding the silent message that they didn’t yet trust him.
Sophy studied Charlie for a moment more, then walked to the armchair facing the one he’d been occupying. She waved Martin and Oliver to the other armchairs in the group. “Sit down, Charlie.” She sank into the armchair. She watched as he obeyed, then fixed him with a commanding look. “If you haven’t been trying to ruin Carmichael Steelworks, then what were you doing there tonight, trying to get into the office?”
Sitting upright in the chair, no longer lounging as he had been, Charlie looked back at her; she knew the instant he decided to tell the truth. He grimaced. “I’m being hounded by the local gang leader. Or rather by his bully-boy of a younger brother. Murchison Junior—Vince—is pressuring me to repay a stack of IOUs that I ran up in London.”
Sophy saw Martin frown slightly, but focusing on his knees, Charlie didn’t notice and went on, “That’s why I came home—to lie low until I figured out a way to repay the debts. Only somehow, Murchison got his hands on the notes, and he told me I had to get the money, enough for a down payment at least. I told him I didn’t have the funds, and he said a little bird had told him that I had a key to the steelworks. He told me I had to use the key to get into the office and take all the money I could lay my hands on and bring it to him.”
Charlie spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I told him I doubted there would be much there, but he said he didn’t care how much it was, just that I took it all and brought it to him, along with some document he wanted me to sign.” Charlie frowned. “That seemed rather rum to me, but that’s what Vince insisted I had to do. He said if the money was enough and I handed over the signed document as well, he might consider handing back my IOUs—all of them.”
Bemused, Charlie glanced at Martin and Oliver. “I know! It sounded too good to be true, but…well, I was desperate. If Vince took the notes to Edward, I’d never hear the end of it, and regardless, after the last time, Edward swore he wouldn’t bail me out again, so who knows what Vince might have done next. He’s a vicious sort who loves to cause trouble and pain for others simply because he can.”
Charlie shot an apologetic look at Sophy. “I know I shouldn’t have agreed, but…I thought if there was a reasonable amount in the office, I would take it and leave you a note, then once I’d got my IOUs back, I could see about repaying you.”
She shook her head at him. “You would have told me to take it out of your next distribution.”
Charlie grimaced. “Yes, that’s what I most likely would have done. But the locks have been changed, and my key didn’t work, so I couldn’t get into the office in the first place.” He shrank down in the chair. “I panicked at that point.”
Sophy studied him. Charlie was only a year younger than she was, but often, he seemed much younger.
Certainly less mature.
Directing his words to the tips of his boots, he went on, “I thought I would lie low here long enough for Vince and his henchmen to lose interest. Or at least lose interest in beating me to a pulp, which is the least of what he threatened to do.”
After a moment, plainly puzzled, Charlie raised his gaze to her face. “That lock—the one on the office door—was brand new. You’ve only recently changed it. Why?”
Before Sophy could decide what to say, Martin asked, “When did you arrive in Sheffield?”
Charlie looked at Martin and decided to reply. Carefully. “Yesterday.” He glanced at the clock. “No, the day before yesterday. Tuesday, late afternoon. I came up on the train.”
“And?” Martin prompted.
Charlie grasped his glass and drained it, then lowered it and went on, “I decided against going to Sycamore Street. Edward would interrogate me over why I’d come home, so I dropped my bags with Smithers at the Waterloo Arms, had a bite to eat, then went to one of the local dens.”
