Page 102 of Ladies in Hating
Beckett turned toward Jem. Cat briefly considered throwing herself in front of her brother’s body, just in case Beckett had concealed a second pistol on his person.
As they were still behind the statue, such heroics did not prove necessary.
“It’s not fair,” Beckett said plaintively to Jem. “You were already Yorke’s favorite! He was going to sponsor you for the Rolls first—I heard him say it. You don’t deserve this too!”
“Deserve what?” Jem’s voice was low. “What are you talking about?”
Beckett threw up his hands. “This house! You’re already a bloody duke’s son. And now you get a treasure on top of it?”
“A duke’s son,” repeated Jem jerkily.
“Atreasure?” said Fawkes. “What treasure?”
Percy looked aghast. “This house?” He glanced warily around him, taking in the bones and doors and bats. “I’m so sorry. Bit of a disappointment if you were expecting a real inheritance.”
“It’snota disappointment,” Beckett burst out. “This place may be a pit of hell, but the duke’s will stipulates that there’s a treasure inside!”
“What the devil are you talking about?” Fawkes gave Beckett another jostle, as if to shake some sense out of his mouth.
“Renwick House and the effects maintained within its walls, sufficient to the maintenance of the property in perpetuity,”Beckett quoted sourly. “According to your father, there was enough money in this house for its continual upkeep until the end of time.”
“In the walls?” Fawkes shook his head. “That’s madness.”
“Not madness,” Beckett insisted. “It’s there. Your father knew it was there. I’ve been searching for it for weeks but—” He broke off and looked guiltily at Cat and Georgiana.
Revelation struck Cat like a brick. “It was you. You sent Rogers after us.”
“Not after you! I told him to do whatever he needed to do to keep you two out of the way. To visit on the housekeeper’s day off and avoid crossing paths with any of you.” Beckett looked almost offended, his brownish hair in matted clumps against his pale forehead. “I sent him after thetreasure. Twice.”
Cat shook her head as she tried to make sense of Beckett’s words. “So Rogers barred the doors… to keep usout?” PerhapsRogers had been under the impression that they’d left the house with Graves that day. Perhaps he’d been after privacy for his clandestine search and had not meant to imprison them at all.
Beckett frowned. “I don’t know anything about barred doors. But the second time I sent him here, he took my coin and never returned. Damned scheming varlet—I had to come up here myself to see if he’d found the treasure and made off with it.”
“He didn’t,” Georgiana said.
“He didn’t? How do you know?” Beckett’s eyes narrowed, a trifle scheming. “Did you find it yourself? Is that what you’re doing back here?”
“There is no bloody treasure!” Fawkes roared, and everyone jumped. “As for you”—he jostled Beckett again—“I could have you transported for this.”
“I didn’t steal anything!” Beckett’s gaze darted nervously around the room as if for help and met not one sympathetic face. “I couldn’t find the treasure, and there wasn’t time anyway…”
“If I discover you on the premises again,” Fawkes said, and now his deep voice had gone silky and threatening, “I will not need to have you transported. I will keep you here, locked behind the doors of Renwick House, and I will let the Renwick ghost have its way with you.”
Beckett visibly blanched. He shrank back from Fawkes’s grip, and then—
Cat blinked. Had he bumped the door with his shoulder?
She did not think he had. But still, slowly and with a thin, grinding creak, the door behind his body yawned open like a great black mouth.
“Oh God,” Beckett moaned. “Oh please no—”
A strange sensation crept up the back of Cat’s neck, like a warm brush of air. Like a breath.
She shivered. Percy, across the room, had gone rather pale.
Ambrose stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around Beckett’s elbow. “I trust that Fawkes’s warning will keep you away from Renwick House,” he said. “But just in case, I am taking you before the magistrate.” When Beckett made a hoarse sound of protest, Ambrose shook his head. “For trespassing. Not for thievery. You shan’t hang today, Beckett. But I will make very certain that your face is known in these parts. If you seek to return, I will be notified immediately.”
“He’s an earl,” Percy put in. “Scarier than a ghost, sometimes.”
