Perfect Scoundrels (Heist Society #3)(54)

“If they ask for paperwork?” Kat asked.

“Uncle Charlie is forging it personally,” Angus said. “Should have it here by tonight. It’s a shame we couldn’t get him to bring it himself. We could have used the help.”

“He’s Uncle Eddie’s identical twin, not his clone,” Kat reminded him. “The paperwork will be enough. I hope.”

They were almost back to the front door, and Kat was almost satisfied, when Hamish yelled, “Fire in the hole!” from somewhere on the second floor. Lights flashed. The roof shook. A fairly large bird’s nest dislodged from the rafters and hit Gabrielle on the head.

“That’s it,” Gabrielle said. “I’m out of here.”

“There may be a few kinks still,” Angus admitted.

“Will you be ready?” Kat asked.

“Not a problem, Kitty,” Angus said with a defiant nod.

“Angus…” Kat said, the word a warning.

For the first time since Kat had known him, Angus grew serious. “We won’t let Hale down.”

“Thanks.”

“But, Kitty…” Angus ran a hand through his hair. Whatever he wanted to say was a struggle. “About ol’ Hale…I was thinking that after what happened at the gala, maybe Hamish and I could keep an eye on him.”

“Hale will be fine.” Kat tried to wave the worry away.

“Will he?” Angus asked.

“Of course,” she said, remembering that the biggest lies you tell are for yourself.

Kat wasn’t surprised when she wasn’t able to fall asleep. There was the stress, of course. Gabrielle’s snoring never helped. But more than anything, Kat couldn’t turn off her mind. There were too many things that could go wrong, and they kept playing one after another on a perpetual loop through her mind, so finally she gave up and went downstairs.

The thick railing was smooth beneath her hands, the rugs lush and soft beneath her bare feet. And Kat was content to creep through the big old house, just another ghost, right up until the point when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Some tea, miss?” Marcus said as soon as Kat stepped into the kitchen.

“Marcus, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Your uncle and I had a…cram session.” He struggled over the slang, but didn’t let it stop him. “I will be accompanying him in the morning. It is a very big day.” He reached for the kettle and brought two cups to the table. “Cream or sugar?”

“You don’t have to wait on me, Marcus,” she told him. “Technically, this time, you’re the client.”

He smiled but didn’t agree. “If you’ll forgive me, miss, it is either work or worry. Work feels far more natural.”

Kat found her favorite chair. “I know the feeling.”

Marcus busied himself with the kettle and the cups. His hands shook a little in a way Kat had never seen before. He didn’t face her when he asked, “Can he do this?”

“Uncle Eddie once pulled the Anastasia on a duke in Edinburgh. Trust me. If anyone can—”

Marcus shook his head. “Not your uncle.”

Kat read his eyes, the set of his jaw, and she knew that Marcus’s worries went far beyond his sister. She thought about the teenager who had gotten drunk and risked everything at the gala, the angry kid who had stormed into Garrett’s office without a plan. She’d tried to tell herself that Hale was fine—he was good. But then there were the flashes of sorrow and rage, and Kat knew that he wasn’t okay. He was just trying to con himself into thinking that he was.

“I’ve never seen Hale like this.”

“If I may, miss…” Marcus gestured to the seat beside her.

“Please, Marcus. Sit. Talk to me.”

He took the seat, but never really rested there. His back stayed straight. His hands stayed folded. Marcus was a man clinging to honor and responsibility, to family pride and the satisfaction of doing something very few people in the world still did well.

Kat totally knew the feeling.

“Has Mr. Hale ever told you how I came to be in his employ?”

“Yes.” Kat laughed a little. “About a hundred times. I’m still waiting for the truth, though.”

“I was the personal valet to Mr. Hale the Second. Marianne, of course, was a ladies’ maid for Mrs. Hale. The two of us had been in those roles for as long as we could remember. I didn’t know any other life.”

“What happened?”

“When young Mr. Hale was six years old, his parents decided to sail around the world. Two days after they left, the nanny resigned and the cook quit. His parents knew this, of course, and yet they stayed away for six months and they left that child alone with a gardener.”

He drew a deep breath, then talked on. “When his grandmother heard, she sent me to the country house to find him, and then she asked if I would consider caring for the boy myself. And that was where I stayed until the day you came for him.”

“Technically, I didn’t come for him,” Kat said. “He’s just what I left with.”

“And I, for one, believe you got the better of that trade.”

He stood and pushed in his chair.

“Marcus,” Kat said, stopping him at the door. “If we fail—”