Page 28 of Stolen By the Rogue
His mouth dropped open. “What? Two hundred pounds. You must be in jest. This place isn’t worth one hundred. I’d give you twenty for it and expect change. The man is a thief.”
She gave him a pot-calling-the-kettle-black look, and George did his best to bite his tongue.
“I know it is a stupid amount of money, but this is an up-and-coming area,” she replied.
“Up-and-coming what? Have hovels suddenly become fashionable and I hadn’t realized? I know London can be eye-wateringly expensive, but that is outrageous,” he scoffed.
Jane crossed the floor and put a hand on his arm. Her touch, though light, had an immediate calming effect on George. He glanced at her fingers; no woman had ever affected him in such a way.
It took the last vestiges of his self-control to stop himself from leaning in and simply kissing her. He was still in two minds as to whether he should when Jane took a step back, and the moment was broken.
What would she have done if I had tried to kiss her? Would she have stopped me?
Jane cleared her throat. “Did you know that during the civil war, almost all of the crown jewels were either sold or melted down?”
Most people knew that the current royal jewels were only of recent origin. That much of the previous splendor of former English kings and queens was now lost to history. Under the military dictatorship of the puritan Oliver Cromwell, many fine things had been destroyed. “Yes, but what has the crown jewels got to do with us?”
A soft, knowing smile now sat on Jane’s lips. A smile which held a thousand promises.
She knows something. Of course, she does.
“Some of the items which were destined to be sold never made it into Cromwell’s hands. Charles is rumored to have given many valuable pieces to Jane Whorwood in the hope that she could sell them and use the proceeds to help restore him to the throne. From what I have been able to discover, she didn’t manage to get rid of the last of those jewels before she was finally made to return to her violent and abusive husband. He kept her locked up for some time, after which she never returned to London.” Jane reached into the satchel and took out a bundle of letters, brandishing them at George.
“What are they?”
“These are facsimiles of the letters which Jane sent to a female friend in London over the years, asking her to check on the house. I found the originals in the museum a few months ago and made my own copies. Right to the end, she intended to come back here and retrieve the treasure but failing health and old age finally caught up with her.”
The rundown, dingy house suddenly transformed before George’s eyes. Where only a few minutes ago he had seen nothing but filth and decay, he now saw opportunity. George’s gaze flittered around the room, his experienced criminal mind coming up with all manner of places where loot could have been hidden. He itched to tug at loose boards and rap on walls.
Jane chuckled. “I see I might have changed your opinion about this place.”
How many people have lived in this house in the last hundred or so years?
Someone could have discovered the treasure long ago and quietly disposed of it. This could all be a wild goose chase. But what if it wasn’t?
“How do you know the jewels or whatever Charles gave Jane still exists? They too might have been melted down and disappeared during the intervening years,” he replied.
She pointed to the floor. Dust already caked the hem of Jane’s skirts simply from her having walked across the room. She gestured to the walls. George peered at them, trying to decipher their original color.
I am sure they were not painted a moldy black.
“Look how dirty it is in here. No one has lived in this house for many, many years. I have it on good authority that it was used to store coal for a long time, only recently being cleared because the landlord wants to sell. They call this place Coal Yard Lane for good reason.”
George’s mouth turned dry at the mere possibility that they could be standing close to hidden treasure. Treasure that he and Jane could legally claim and then change into honest money.
This is the opportunity you have been looking for.
She was trusting him. After all that he had done, Jane was still prepared to give him another chance. It left him humbled and shamed.
I don’t deserve this.
“Why are you putting your faith in my hands? I have already betrayed you once. What is to say I won’t do it again?” he asked.
Jane shrugged. “Because you and I are not so different. We are both people seeking a way to a different life. To a better one. And, if I were honest, I still feel a little guilty over having shot you.”
George had already identified several weak spots in Jane’s plan, ones which he could exploit in order to double-cross her if he so chose. He had done the dirty on enough people in his life to know it would be easy for him to do it again.
But you won’t, because this is different.
