Page 92 of Four Promises to Love

“So you think the original stone was replaced?”

“I’m about to find out.”

Taking out his penknife, he inserted the blade into the mortar seam—and felt a surge of excitement when the stone moved.

“It’s only wedged in,” he said. “I’m pulling it out now.”

With a spray of gravel, the stone separated from the wall. Setting it aside, Owen reached into the space it left behind and pulled out a leather pouch the size of his hand.

“By Jove,” James said. “Everyone, over here. Owen’s found something.”

Seeing Finn’s giddy expression, Owen smiled and gave her the pouch. She snatched it, untied the fraying string, and upended it over her hand. An object fell out with a flash of brilliant green: a ring with a large emerald at its center, surrounded by a halo of diamonds.

“Blimey.” Caleb’s hushed voice emerged behind them. “There’s a sparkler.”

“There is more,” Finn said.

“More jewels?” Caleb asked eagerly.

Slipping the ring on her finger, she removed a piece of paper from the pouch and read it:

The last of my gift is not for finding but for knowing. I have hidden it beyond the grasp of greedy hands. You will not come to it by searching; only by looking beneath the lie will you expose the truth. My last confession rests with what I have left you—and when it is read, may you be free.

—F. P.

Twenty-Six

“I am glad you suggested a stroll,” Finn said.

“After our tumultuous day, we earned it,” Owen replied.

They were walking along the village square. The sunset striped the sky with vibrant colors. A murder of crows occupied the green, gathering on the branches of the massive tree and nearby stones, cawing their claim. The shops were closing, and the scent of cooking wafted from the open windows of the cottages. After exchanging greetings with several villagers, Finn and Owen turned onto a quieter street.

“We should be proud of our progress.” She exhaled. “Even though now we have another clue to solve.”

The group had mulled over the latest riddle. How could they find whatever F. P. had hidden without searching? What lies needed to be examined to expose the truth? If it concerned Langdon Pearce, they could not dispel those lies without proof…which brought them back to where they started. They’d gone in circles, to no avail. Finally, they’d decided to reconvene after a good night’s sleep.

“I can practically hear that mind of yours buzzing like a bee.” Owen smiled, drawing her arm through his. “Remember, there is a plan in place. Tomorrow, James and Evie will continue looking through the parish records to identify F. P. The rest of the group will work on the clue. I must leave for Thymehill, my patron’s estate, to oversee the work on the gardens, but I shan’t be gone long. We will solve the clue in due course. For now, let us enjoy the evening before we part.”

Finn was torn. Time was running out for Iris. Although the finding of the ring was progress, she was wary of sharing it with Carver. It would feed, rather than appease, the bastard’s greed. Like her solving of the initial clue, it might prompt him to “motivate” her to finish the job. To get Finn to do his bidding, he would have no compunction about hurting Iris…or Owen and his family.

Finn’s stomach knotted.

Luckily, the group had decided to keep the ring a secret for now. To Finn’s amazement, Miss Letty had relinquished the ring found on her property with no qualms. “To think, my spa may play a role in ending the curse,” she’d said happily. Her bewildering generosity had led to a flicker of hope: would the Harringtons react the same way if Finn told them about Iris?

Yet giving up a ring was not the same as yielding a priceless parure. In Finn’s experience, munificence had its limits—especially as it pertained to helping a woman they would see as an opium-eating gang leader. On the remote chance that the Harringtons might be willing to part with the jewels, she would be entrusting Iris’s life to their discretion and judgment. One leaked detail or wrong move, from them or anyone in their household, could spur Carver into deadly action.

How could Finn trust virtual strangers to do right by Iris? The Hawks flew together because they’d never been able to rely on anyone else. Finn couldn’t risk asking for help and destroying the very thing that had helped her gang to survive.

Xenia and Lord Ethan had taken the ring for safekeeping. Finn would send Carver a note about the new clue without mentioning the ring; hopefully, the sign of good faith would buy her time to find the rest of the jewels. Getting her hands on what Carver wanted—the full parure—was her only leverage.

She’d begin again tomorrow. For now, she was spent. Although Owen’s absence would be short, she was going to miss him and did not wish to waste what precious time they had.

She squeezed his arm. “You’re right. Let’s talk of other things.”

They did, chatting like ordinary folk. He described how the gardens at Thymehill were taking shape. He made her laugh when he told her about the owner, Baron Sangerton, and his insistence on the “very best” of everything—including the water in the newly constructed pond.

“What is the best water, I wonder?” she asked playfully.