Page 67 of Four Promises to Love

“It is you, but the dress does suit you splendidly.”

Giving him a flustered smile, she snuck a look at her gang. They were riveted, watching the exchange like it was a performance of Punch and Judy.

Thankfully, Owen caught on. “I shall leave you and your assistants to your privacy. Do join us for breakfast when you are done.”

The instant he left, the Hawks flocked to Finn. Even though they were alone, they spoke in hushed tones.

“We were worried about you.” Nell’s eyes were huge behind her spectacles.

“I’m fine,” Finn said.

She felt guilty at just how fine she was.

“Of course you are.” Caleb darted his gaze around the room. “The vision and the fainting—it was all part of your scheme, right? A fine one, I might add.”

As much as Finn hated to lose Caleb’s rare admiration, she couldn’t lie.

“No,” she said. “That was real.”

Caleb snorted. “Pull my other leg.”

“I mean it. I had a vision. A memory of Rose’s.”

“That makes no sense,” Nell protested.

Tansy knitted her brows. “Maybe Finn has a fever. Or bats in her belfry?”

“I am neither ill nor mad. The vision was real.” She exhaled. “And I’ve had others.”

She told them about the reflection in the stream and the dream of the lovers in the rose garden. With the latter, she shared a sanitized version, but it made no difference: the Hawks gawked at her as if she’d grown another head.

“You’ve fallen for your own con,” Caleb groaned. “I have seen it happen before. You’ve played the role of Madame Seraphina so convincingly that your mind has started playing tricks on you⁠—”

“I thought I was imagining things too. But if that were true, how did I find the hidden mechanism in the fireplace?”

He looked nonplussed. “I don’t know. Luck, maybe.”

“Since when have I been that lucky?” she said dryly. “I am telling you this ghost—Rose—has been communicating with me.”

Saying it aloud felt strangely freeing.

“Well, you’ve picked a fine time to go stark, raving mad.” Caleb threw his hands in the air. “This is the last thing we need after Iris’s letter.”

Finn frowned. “Iris sent a letter?”

“We found it when we got home last night.” Nell held out a crumpled piece of paper.

Finn took it, and her vision swam as she read Iris’s looping scrawl:

Dear Finn,

* * *

Please do as Carver asks. I am begging you.

Give him whatever he wants—and for the love of God, do it quickly. Until you complete the task, he’s taken away my medicine, and I cannot bear much more. I am sick all the time. I cannot keep anything down. I feel like I am dying, but the end…it never comes.

I almost wish it would.