Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(76)

“It is. It cost me a fortune to have it shipped here, but I treasure it.”

The practice room, as he called it, had bamboo flooring and one full wall of mirrors. Her eyes were drawn to the swords on the other wall. She wondered what they were for.

“Have a seat and just watch me for a while,” he told her.

She found herself a corner and settled into it. He gave a strange look at her choice of location, but didn’t comment.

He stood in the middle of the room and then slowly began to move, bending his knees and then moving one foot to the side. Then he began to move his arms around. He turned on a heel, waving his arms around again.

For a while she thought he was playing games with her, but the longer she watched she realized there was a pattern. He’d take a step and do that strange hand waving, then aim in another direction and repeat the gestures. He kept at it, deftly shifting from position to position. It was like a dance for people who couldn’t make up their minds which way to go. Sometimes, he would shoot his fist out and make a funny noise.

He did that now. She chuckled. As he turned toward her, a dark eyebrow arched.

“You find me amusing?” he asked, not halting his movements.

“It looks silly,” she said.

He curved around into another pose. “It all depends on your point of view.”

She’d seen him do this on the sand early in the morning. At least he had until she’d started the drawing.

“What’s a…mother ship?” she asked.

His concentration broke for a fraction of a second. “What?”

“Ralph said that when you’re doing this, you’re signaling the mother ship.”

A sour look came her way. “He’s being sarcastic. This is Chen Style Tai Chi Chuan. It’s a martial art. It teaches you how to defend yourself. And how to calm yourself.”



“Would it help me get rid of people who annoy me?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Then what’s the point?” she asked.

“To help you find balance. That’s something we both need right now.”

Balance? “Will it make the ants go away?”

“Possibly.” He dropped into a crouching position and then shifted one foot and then another behind him while he spread his hands in the air.

“What is that?”

“White Crane Spreads Its Wings,” he replied.

“All those things have names?”

“Yes.”

Now that was interesting. Cynda stood near him, watching what he was doing, trying to copy it. She couldn’t come close and nearly fell to the matting. She stumbled around and then regained her footing.

He gracefully finished the current movement. “If you’re interested in learning a few forms, I’ll be happy to teach you.”

She thought about that. “Would the shrinks like me doing this?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Probably not, since it’s a martial art. I don’t think they’d like you to learn any new ways of harming people.”

That settled it. “Show me what to do,” she said.





Chapter 24




Friday, 2 November, 1888

Old Bailey (Central Criminal Courts)

The courtroom was abuzz when Keats entered and positioned himself in the dock. He’d expected as much. The morning had brought ill news with his breakfast: Lord Wescomb, his staunchest defender, had been shot on the street in full view of his wife.

Although Wescomb would survive, Keats was bitter at the turn of events. Kingsbury had said he would continue in Wescomb’s stead, but Keats felt unsure of the young barrister’s abilities. To think someone would try to kill a peer of the realm just to smooth his way to the gallows was almost beyond his comprehension.

The trap is closing. Wescomb was going to save me, and now they’ve ensured he won’t.

Staring forward into the courtroom, he immediately noticed a woman. She wasn’t young, but possessed a classic beauty.

Lady Sephora Wescomb.

Keats was astounded to see her here, but there she was, dressed impeccably, her head held high. In her own way, she was telling the world that her husband was not gravely injured. If he had been, she would be at his side. It was a powerful statement to whoever had dispatched the assassin.

Seated next to her was Alastair, and next to him the young woman he’d seen at the inquest, Evelyn Hanson. Alastair turned toward her and said something. She nodded solemnly and patted his arm.

Good for you, my friend. You deserve some happiness for a change.

Judge Hawkins entered and the moment after he settled into his chair, he peered down at the junior barrister. “Mr. Kingsbury, I have your note regarding Lord Wescomb’s injury. How is he this morning?”

“Improved, my lord.”

“That is reassuring news. Please send my regards, will you?”



“Yes, my lord.”

“Is it your intention to ask for a continuance?”

“No, my lord.”

The judge gave him a perplexed look. “You are certain of that, sir?”

“Yes, your lordship. Lord Wescomb is most keen that our client’s case be concluded.”

“Well, I see,” the judge replied in a tone that indicated he didn’t think that was wise. “Then let’s carry on.”