But she didn’t dare say so.
“So your dad got you a billionaire for Christmas. That’s nice. I’d offer my congratulations, but, as you said, I’m just the help.”
Hale would scold her if he heard her say it—even here, even now, in the middle of a con. But there was a part of Kat, deep down, that might have even thought it was true if she ever allowed herself to think about such things—if she could stop running, working, grifting long enough to wonder if she was really going to get away with stealing W. W. Hale V.
But Georgette didn’t seem appeased. She didn’t seem angry anymore though, either, so she just huffed and turned and left. Kat stayed among the groceries and the linens for a long time, watching ice collect on the narrow window, not knowing whether she should laugh or scream.
“There you are.” Gabrielle’s voice sliced through the silence of the cold stairwell in one of the older parts of the castle.
So far, Kat had searched the armory, the wine cellar and a large, stone room she was fairly certain had once been a dungeon. She’d found spiders and dust along with a great many chains and some very questionable stains on the floor, but no eggs. Not even fake ones.
And Kat could feel the sun setting and time running out.
“Maybe we need a metal detector. A big one. Maybe—”
“Kat, stop. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Kat snapped. She didn’t mean to and she felt awful as soon as she let the words fly free, but it was too late to take them back. “What’s wrong is this house is really about six houses crammed together over the past six centuries. What’s wrong is that our esteemed host wasn’t content to own just one Egg of the Magi. No. He had to own it and pretty much every replica ever made. What’s wrong is that the auction is in three days, and we don’t have an egg to auction!”
“So we sell a fake,” Gabrielle said with a shrug. “It’s not like we don’t have plenty to choose from, and it’d be easy enough to swap it out for the real one once we find it.”
“And what if we never find it?” Kat said the words that had been haunting her for days. “What if the buyer has the egg authenticated before he takes possession and it gets out that the charity knowingly auctioned off a forgery.”
“Kat?”
“What if Interpol finally realizes that my dad stole from a London charity? I don’t think the ‘I had to do it to save my daughter’s boyfriend’ defense is gonna fly.”
“Kat!” Gabrielle’s voice echoed off of the cold stones and Kat finally felt her heart slow down. “Feel better? Okay. Now are you going to tell me what’s really wrong?”
In her young life, Kat had misled cops and bankers and jewelers and even the occasional nun. But Kat had never, ever been able to lie to Gabrielle.
So she blurted, “I’m pretty sure Lady Georgette is going to marry Hale.”
“Does Hale know this?”
“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter. She’s going to marry him and then kill the Duke of Clayton and five of his heirs just so she can be a duchess.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Gabrielle said. “We don’t want to give my mother any ideas.”
Kat might have laughed—she might have smiled—if this had been any other job, but the seconds on the clock were passing much too quickly. Their window was closing, and once it was gone she couldn’t help but worry that a part of Hale might be lost forever.
“Tell me what you need,” Gabrielle said.
“We need time. We need to find the egg. We need…” Kat let her voice trail off as she ran a finger along the mortar between the ancient stones. “A miracle.”
Gabrielle looked out one of the long, skinny windows over the pristine grounds. She could have been a medieval lady of the manor, taking up a bow to defend her home from marauders, so intent was her focus.
“Miracles can be arranged.”
After all, it was the season.
Two Days Before the Auction
Greymore Castle, England
By the end of the house party’s third day, the crew was tired and the mountain of fake eggs was growing, and the guests, to say the least, were restless.
“Was the weather supposed to be this bad?” the viscount asked after dinner that evening while tea was being served in the drawing room.
Irina was helping the earl into a chair by the fire, but the old man sounded full of vigor when he laughed. “It’s the Scottish border in December. If you can’t take the cold, go back to London.”
“I’m just concerned for our guests, Uncle. If it keeps this up, the roads might be impassable. I’d hate for anyone to be stuck here and miss their own holiday plans. I know Scooter will need to get back to London for his auction.”
Hale took a sip of tea. “Nothing’s going to stop the auction. Don’t you worry about that.”
From a very young age Kat had been trained to see more, hear more, sense more than the perfectly-law-abiding portion of the world’s population. Perhaps that is why she heard the tinkling of the fine china, saw the subtle tremble of Gabrielle’s hand as the “new maid” distributed tea to the guests assembled in the room.
“You okay?” Kat said as Gabrielle worked at the tea tray in the corner.
Kat held her hands to the fire and didn’t turn when her cousin answered. “Mom’s getting sloppy.”