Page 39 of Four Promises to Love

In the rippling reflection, all she saw was herself.

Twelve

“Gor, this place is something, ain’t it?” Tansy said with a low whistle.

Finn didn’t disagree. As she and the Hawks walked up the drive, she observed that Bottoms House was a rare mix of majestic and friendly. The flanking oaks were stately, the spills of wildflowers between them unexpected and charming. Trimmed hedgerows and bushy flowering shrubs shared the space, with an occasional bench here and there for resting and enjoying the view. The manor itself was built of limestone mellowed by age. The ivy climbing the walls was artfully tamed and bordered the rows of sparkling windows.

Given her growing intimacy with Owen, Finn fancied she saw his hand in the landscaping. The style had his blend of proper and wild, and his respect for nature showed in the way he tamed rather than fought it. His genius lay in subtlety: like a spider’s web, one didn’t realize one was caught up in his art until it was too late—rather like the man himself. Since their parting yesterday, she’d thought about him constantly. Their passion had been a revelation…but it was more than that.

Everything she’d learned about him deepened her attraction. He hadn’t allowed privilege or misfortune to determine who he was. He wasn’t perfect. He was a warrior who’d emerged from battle with scars, and those badges of survival made him irresistibly human in her eyes.

It was a miracle that the Hawks hadn’t discovered her tryst. At dawn, she’d managed to sneak back into her chamber unseen. Later at supper, she’d casually mentioned that she’d seen Lord Owen in the village that afternoon, apologized, and gained an invitation to Bottoms House. Her gang had been too excited to examine the gift horse, and Finn had felt a teensy bit guilty at her deception.

As for the apparition in the woods, she hadn’t mentioned that either. It was bad enough that her leadership was being called into question; she didn’t want her sanity to be doubted as well. Fatigue had probably caused her to hallucinate. All she needed was a good night’s rest to restore her senses.

“Woolgathering, Finn?”

Caleb’s snide tone irked her.

“I wasn’t woolgathering,” she retorted. “I was reviewing the plan.”

“We go in. You distract the toffs while we search the place for the hidden treasure.” Caleb quirked a brow. “Am I missing anything?”

“No sticky fingers.” Finn gave the group a stern look. “We take only the jewels. If we pocket anything else, the Harringtons will think we’re thieves.”

Tansy’s brow creased. “Aren’t we?”

“Well, yes. But in this instance, we are thieves who are only after the emerald parure.”

“Swells like them wouldn’t notice a bit of missing silver,” Caleb scoffed.

“I mean it.” Finn pulled herself to her full height. “This is a command from your leader.”

“She’s no fun, is she?” Caleb stage-whispered to Tansy.

“No fun at all,” Tansy agreed.

Rolling her eyes, Finn mounted the steps and rang the bell. They were let in by a jowly butler who announced himself as Brunswick. He guarded the entry hall like a mastiff, regarding them with deep suspicion. While the Hawks’ somber garments were neat, the light revealed their worn and mended state. Tansy had forgotten to polish her scuffed boots. Beside her, Nell tugged at her sleeves, which were a tad short, and Simon fixed his gaze on the gleaming pink marble floor.

Finn set her shoulders back. Her veil hid her expression while she studied the butler’s. His disdain was clear; he regarded them like they were some ragtag bunch here to swindle his employer…

Well. Even if he is not wrong, he doesn’t have to be so condescending.

Finn raised her chin. “I am Madame Seraphina, and I am expected.”

Before the guard dog could reply, a warm female voice cut in.

“My dear Seraphina, thank you so much for coming!”

Xenia was a charming vision in ruffled pink, but it was Owen standing next to her who captured Finn’s attention. Her silly heart hiccupped at how handsome he was. He was every inch the fashionable lord in his slate-blue frock coat, striped waistcoat, and tan trousers. Yet he was himself, too. His pearl-grey cravat was slightly off-center, as if he’d tugged at it. The front wave of his hair dipped into his eyes. The banked heat in his gaze gave her a delicious thrill.

He strode to her and bowed. She tensed as he reached to touch her cheek. If this was his idea of discretion, everyone would know their business.

“May I?” he asked.

She realized he was offering to help her with her veil. The courtly gesture caused her knees to wobble. When she nodded, he pinned up the black lace.

“That is better.”