He wore a goatee and glasses, and looked like a wise, kind professor, but Kat just had to shake her head as she turned the sketch to Hale.
“Yeah,” he told Elizabeth. “I think we can find him.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
Kat wasn’t certain what was colder, Hale’s voice or the wind blowing off the Thames.
“Hale—” she started but there was no way he was going to listen to any Bishop family excuses.
“I know he’s your father, Kat. But he’s a dead man.”
Darkness comes early in London in the middle of December, and all around them, lights were growing brighter as the sky grew darker and Kat shivered in spite of herself.
She was happier than she would admit when Hale slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him.
“He knows I’ve always loved the Eggs of the Magi, Hale. After Mom died, I got obsessed with them for a little while, and he knows that. It’s not his—”
“If you say ‘fault,’ Kat, then you and I are going to have a problem.”
They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, shoppers and commuters passing them by like a blur.
Kat pulled away. She had to look him in the eye when she said, “Style, Hale. I was going to say it’s not his style. To steal from a charity?” Kat didn’t try to keep the dismay from her voice. “It’s against the rules, and he knows it.”
“Yeah.” Hale’s voice was colder than the wind. “And Bobby Bishop has never broken the rules before.”
“He doesn’t break these rules.”
“You have to know the rules to break them; isn’t that what Uncle Eddie always says?”
“Yes,” Kat admitted. “But this is a different kind of rule, Hale. It was Mom’s kind of rule,” Kat admitted. “And it just doesn’t feel like him.”
Hale turned and looked out over the river.
Big Ben stood tall in the distance. The London Eye was still turning. Life went on, time still passed. There were twinkle lights on trees and boughs of greenery strung across bridges, but somehow it no longer felt like Christmas.
“Do you know another Robert Knightly who looks like this?” Hale asked, holding out the sketch that Kat had insisted they take from Elizabeth Evans, partly to keep the woman from growing suspicious. Partly to keep her from showing it to anyone else. Especially Amelia Bennett.
“Let’s just find him,” Kat said. “Let’s just see what he has to say, and…”
“Kill him?” Hale guessed.
“And see,” Kat said.
But Hale shook his head. For the first time in a long time, Kat remembered that even W. W. Hale V, the new head of Hale Industries and the most natural inside man that she had ever known, was human.
He was a boy.
And he was hurting. She heard it when he said, “You thought I did it.”
“I never said—”
“You did. You thought I’d steal from Hazel’s charity to help you complete your collection.” It sounded like an accusation. Like a threat. He sidled closer. “Now tell me the truth, Kitty Kat. Do you really think your father would be able to resist stealing the mate to your mother’s prized possession?”
Kat stood silent in the cold wind, not wanting to think about the answer.
Eight Days Before the Auction
Sydney, Australia
It’s not supposed to be sunny in December. People in tank tops and sundresses shouldn’t be carrying packages wrapped in big red bows and wishing people Merry Christmas.
But Kat was no longer in the holiday spirit.
Hale had traded a cashmere coat for a light suit and dark glasses. His dark hair was freshly cut and he had a whole new purpose—a new drive—as they followed the man through the park.
Kat wanted to call out. Maybe in warning. Maybe in greeting. Or maybe she just wanted to stomp her feet and demand that everybody play nice, but she stayed quiet beside Hale, following his footsteps and his lead, until they turned a corner and ran—literally—into her dad.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice deep and full of mischief.
Kat wanted to run into his arms and have him swing her around like she was still a little girl. But Hale looked like he wanted to sucker punch him hard in the gut, so she put herself between them, just as Hale said, “Not for everyone.”
Maybe Bobby knew Hale well enough to read his eyes or his tone. Maybe he knew this encounter was coming the moment he walked into the Magi Miracle Network and turned on his considerable charm.
Or maybe Bobby was like all great grifters, and he saw the board—every play and every option—long before he ever picked up a piece.
“So how is the lovely Elizabeth Evans? Mad, I guess,” Bobby said, and Kat feared she might have to actually hold Hale back.
Even Kat had to temper her voice when she said, “She isn’t mad, Dad. She’s mortified.”
For a moment, Kat actually thought that Bobby might actually be as sad as Hale was angry.
“Poor thing,” he said, but Hale wasn’t buying it.
“Poor thing?” he snapped. “If you were feeling so sympathetic, maybe you shouldn’t have stolen a Fabergé egg and ruined her career.”
Finally, Bobby got angry. “Her career was on the road to ruin long before I got there.”
Kat felt Hale step away. He was no longer a presence burning against her back and she turned in time to see him shake his head. It’s hard when your heroes fall, Kat knew. But, until that moment, she’d never known just how badly Hale had wanted to be Bobby Bishop when he grew up.