Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) by Pearl Darling

Backing away from the unfriendly circus act, the woman came nearer to the bandstand, her only way forward narrowing to the path past the bandstand stage.
    Falling full length to the floor, Agatha pulled herself to the ornate railings. Thank god no one was interested in the bandstand with the performers outside. As the woman picked up speed, she narrowed her eyes and then, with one rapid movement, pushed her arm through a hole in the railing and winced as the momentum of the woman’s movement propelled her soft stomach straight into Agatha’s rigid arm. Doubling over, the woman didn’t scream, the full amount of air in her lungs knocked out of her. Good. Just as Agatha had surmised. Pulling her aching arm back through the ornate railings, Agatha scurried down the steps. She would really have to devote a bit more time later to the mechanics of blunt forces on the human body. She was building up a rather large collection of experience, what with hitting Henry on the head and now this woman…
    The woman moaned, still doubled over, her clutching hands dropping the stolen pelisse to the floor. Collecting herself, Agatha pounced on the bag, swiping it from the ground.
    But she was too late. As she reached to scoop up the pelisse, a large boot came down on her fingers and held them there on top of the heavy bag, the pressure insistent. Twisting against her trapped arm, she gasped at the air.
    “What do we have here, then?” Agatha stopped flailing and trying to control her breathing, looked up from her prone position on the floor. A large bear of a man dressed in a red coat and outsize black top hat loomed above her, connected by a stout leg to the boot that pressed firmly into Agatha’s hand.
    The doubled over woman stood slightly and pulled at her scarf, whining, “This woman was stealing from me, Pablo! She wanted me earnings.”
    Pablo lifted his foot slightly, but before Agatha could lift the pelisse up, deft hands had swiped the bag away.
    Pablo lifted his foot entirely. “I don’t believe you, Nathalia,” he said flatly, helping Agatha to her feet with a large hand.
    “Here, Pa, there are twenty gold sovereigns in ’ere!” A grinning young man that Agatha had seen as part of the acrobats held up the pelisse.
    Pablo sighed. “And I don’t believe that I have ever paid you twenty gold sovereigns, Nathalia.”
    “But Pablo,” Nathalia whined, pulling at her scarf, “she punched me.”
    “Through the bandstand?”
    “I don’t know how, she just did it!”
    Pablo, Pablo Moreno, Agatha had surmised by now, grunted. “You lie, you steal and it interferes with my other activities. As if I don’t have enough problems at the moment with the circus itself without you stealing from the Quality.” He paused and stared at Agatha. “How did you stop her?”
    Agatha bit her lip. Don’t ever speak about mathematical principles in polite company unless asked, Henry had said. Was Pablo polite company? Had he asked? “Err, I measured how fast err, Nathalia was walking by the amount of steps she took per second, calculated the impact of a rigid object on a semi tensile travelling figure and err. Stuck my fist out at the softest part of her body—” She ruffled in her pocket for her pencil. It was normally easier to demonstrate on paper.
    Pablo’s mouth dropped open. “What did you say your name was again?” His hand edged forward with the pelisse.
    Agatha withdrew her hand from her pocket and reached out. “I didn’t. I’m Miss Agatha Beauregard and I’m very grateful you are returning my property to—”
    Pablo swung the bag away. “Agatha Beauregard?”
    Agatha frowned. That’s what she had said.
    A sinking feeling pulled down her shoulders as Pablo handed the bag to the young acrobat who looked remarkably like him. Pablo roared with laughter. “Manna from heaven,” he shouted. “I’m saved.”
    Nathalia and Agatha stared at him.
    With a choke, Pablo put a hand to his chest, stifling his roars. “Look