Page 90 of Four Promises to Love

“Love, of course.”

Finn blushed and didn’t dare look at Owen.

Smiling, Gigi popped the grape into her mouth while her husband let out a guffaw.

“In other words, the water brings about what was going to happen anyway?” He pinched her cheek. “You could sell hay to a farmer, duchess.”

Gigi beamed. “With the profits, Miss Letty can finally replace the statue of Mars.”

Looking at the ring of statues on the upper gallery, Finn saw the empty pedestal.

“What happened to the old statue?” she asked curiously.

“An accident,” Grantley said. “Of a premeditated nature.”

As Finn tried to puzzle out the cryptic reply, Owen spoke up.

“I think we have something to share with Finn and her assistants.”

His seriousness stirred Finn’s nape. Looking around the table, she saw the Hawks freeze. Only Tansy continued chewing on a watercress sandwich.

“We agreed on this, Owen,” Manderly said with obvious care. “On the timing of it.”

“I know, but Finn has proven her ability,” Owen said. “She and her assistants have worked diligently on our behalf. They have earned the right to be privy to our suspicions.”

At the word “suspicions,” the Hawks tensed further. Tansy swallowed, her hand creeping toward the butter knife. Finn caught the girl’s eyes, subtly shaking her head. Simultaneously, Nell—bless her—nabbed the knife and put it safely out of reach.

“What suspicions?” Finn asked as calmly as she could.

“We wanted to tell you our theory,” Gigi burst out. “But because we were unsure of its validity, we did not wish to undermine your objectivity as a seer.”

Theory? What is she talking about?

Yet Finn’s anxiety eased a little. They still believed she was a seer. They were not about to accuse her and the Hawks of being frauds out to steal hidden loot.

“I hope you can understand that it was not personal,” Evie said softly. “We trust you, Finn.”

“I am confused,” she said. “Will someone tell me what this theory is?”

“Owen might as well have the honors,” Manderly said with a sigh. “He’s been champing at the bit to do so.”

Finn turned to Owen, and he met her gaze squarely.

“We have an idea,” he said. “About the possible identity of F. P.”

F. P. is Felix Pearce.

But she wasn’t supposed to know that. The Harringtons were in the dark about the letter that Carver had given her. The one written by Felix Pearce and which supposedly led to a parure of jewels.

“Um, you do?” she managed.

“We haven’t been entirely honest with you. We were hoping your visions would reveal the identity of Rose and Thomas’s nemesis, but we already had a theory in mind,” he said. “We think Thomas was killed by Langdon Pearce, one of Chuddums’s founders and a man of wealth and influence. We believe Pearce was obsessed with Rose and killed Thomas so he could have her to himself. The clue you found might be further proof of this: we think F. P. might be a relation of Langdon’s, who knew of his crimes and wanted justice to come to light. The restitution and gift F. P. referred to could be testimony of some sort—proof that Rose was innocent and that Langdon was the true murderer.”

“For years, the villagers believed the worst of Rose and maligned her,” Xenia said in a trembling voice. “If we can find what F. P. left behind, we could restore her name and reputation. We could bring Rose and Thomas’s true story to light. In doing so, we will break the real curse—the one cast by ignorance and prejudice.”

“None of us have seen the murderer’s face,” Evie said. “Without tangible proof, we cannot accuse the town’s esteemed founder of being a rapist, abuser, and killer.”

“Nonetheless, we should have told you,” Owen said firmly.