Page 48 of Four Promises to Love

“Mind your manners, Wally.” Mrs. Thornton, who’d been tapping her foot, turned a glare upon her oldest patron. “It is hardly surprising that the ladies wish to further their acquaintance with Madame Seraphina. She is a jewel, and we should count ourselves fortunate that she has chosen to grace our village with her presence.”

Owen felt his brows rise. For Mrs. Thornton, this was effusive praise.

“I concur,” Wally said. “After all, she confirmed through her visions what I have suspected for years.” He stabbed a gnarled finger into the air. “Fenwyck, that felonious feline, was indeed guilty of digging up those gardens!”

“There you go,” Mrs. Thornton said. “Now leave these gents to their evening, and I’ll send Molly by with another helping of steak and ale pie.”

Wally and his cronies thumped their canes against the floorboards in a show of approval, and she herded Owen’s group onward.

“That was kind of you,” Owen said. “To vouch for Madame Seraphina, I mean.”

“I call it as I see it,” Mrs. Thornton said gruffly.

Their destination was a table hidden behind a tatty curtain. Ethan and James shared a bench, with Owen and Grantley facing them in the small alcove. Not one to take orders, Mrs. Thornton announced that Molly would be bringing them libations and supper. Based on prior experience, Owen knew better than to inquire about the menu (although he sincerely hoped the offerings would include the aforementioned steak and ale pie).

The buxom barmaid soon arrived, delivering tankards of foaming ale, a hunk of pale cheese with a dish of pickles, and a crusty brown loaf. Owen helped himself to a hearty slice of bread, slathering on the creamy butter. He’d just taken a bite when Ethan spoke.

“So, lad, what is going on between you and the medium?”

Owen choked on the bread.

Grantley pounded him on the back. “Don’t expire on us now, or we’ll have to ask your lady friend to channel this conversation. That would be rich, wouldn’t it? Asking her to ask your spirit if the two of you are doing the mattress jig together.”

So much for discretion.

Owen had given his word to Finn to protect their—well, whatever it was they were engaged in. It wasn’t a relationship…at least, not yet. But she meant something to him, and he would not allow anyone, even his kin, to sully her reputation.

“She is not my lady friend,” he said. “You ought to speak of her with the proper respect.”

“Pardon.” Grantley smirked. “By the by, is it brighter in here than usual?”

James tilted his head. “I don’t believe so.”

“Ah. Then it must be the shine of Owen’s armor. It is quite blinding.”

Owen resisted the urge to plant a facer in his brother-in-law’s smug visage. If he did, he would have to deal with Gigi—and he would rather face an army of cutthroats than the ire of his baby sister.

“Stop bothering the lad,” Ethan said. “You’re embarrassing him.”

“We are family,” Grantley pointed out. “If Owen cannot be comfortable discussing the topic with us, then with whom can he unburden himself?”

“Grantley has a point,” James said thoughtfully. “Owen, if there is anything you wish to discuss—even, ahem, private affairs—we are here to listen.”

Owen stared at his oldest brother. Growing up, James had been the quintessential responsible heir. He’d taken the lead, given advice, and fixed problems (usually caused by Owen). But he’d never, to Owen’s recollection, offered to simply listen.

Owen drew his brows together. “You wish to hear about my personal concerns?”

James shrugged. “I have come to the conclusion that communicating about problems is better than trying to solve everything on one’s own.”

“Evie is a good influence on you,” Ethan said.

“Undoubtedly. I daresay the reverse is true as well.” James selected a pickle. “That is, after all, what makes a successful marriage.”

“I don’t know about that,” Grantley said lazily. “I am a bad influence on my duchess, and she quite prefers it that way.”

“Do you want to call him out?” Ethan inquired of the table at large. “Or shall I?”

“Back to the matter at hand.” James steered them back on course. “While one cannot deny that the medium possesses certain attractions, she is also obviously trouble. You do not believe all that spiritual mumbo jumbo, do you, Owen?”