Chapter 3
Three
Blooming hell. Was I born under an unlucky star?
Finn Kidd cursed the fates for their unamusing sense of humor. Of all the people she had to run into, did it have to be this cove? What were the bleeding chances?
Two months ago, she’d marked him as easy prey. While he was hardly the first pigeon she’d plucked, he had left a lasting impression. Warmth fluttered in her lower belly—and she ignored the sensation.
Do not be distracted by something as trifling as lust.
Too much was at stake. She would do anything to protect her family. No uppity toff—including Lord Owen Harrington—was going to stop her.
Throughout the séance, she hadn’t let on that she recognized him.
She had played the role of Madame Seraphina to perfection and had almost made her exit before he issued his challenge.
Then she couldn’t back down. To do so would damage her credibility, which was essential to the success of her present mission.
She reminded herself that she’d been disguised during their last encounter.
As Sarah the trollop, she’d worn a blonde wig and heavy face paint, which she’d artfully applied to disguise her features.
It had been dark on the street where she’d propositioned him and in the chamber she’d rented—or, more precisely, borrowed—for their interlude.
Males, in her experience, were not particularly observant, a fact she’d often used to her advantage.
In truth, Lord Owen might not recognize her. Even if he did, to accuse her of being the light-skirt who’d drugged him would mean incriminating himself in front of his genteel relations. Would he cut off his nose to spite his face?
The situation might not be as dire as you think. Take control and brazen it out.
“Are you satisfied, sir?” she asked. “Or will further gawking be required to determine my legitimacy?”
He blinked, his long, dark lashes framing his stunning cloud-grey eyes.
His brown hair was thick and shaggy, the front wave dipping over his brow.
Ruddy color spread over his cheekbones, confirming her assessment that he was a gentleman—by blood and by breeding.
The kind of man whose manners dictated that he treat women well.
Heat flashed through her insides as she recalled how well he’d treated her the last time.
He’d put her pleasure first—something no man in her experience had ever done.
Not even her former follower Jimmy. The few times she’d allowed him liberties, he’d groped her like a burglar in the dark, with no chance of finding the jewels. This lord, on the other hand, had stolen the breath straight from her lungs. The things he’d done with his tongue—
“Pardon my rudeness,” he said brusquely. “I meant no offense.”
His apology snapped her attention in place. A gent in the true sense, as she suspected. She would leverage his propriety to her advantage.
“None taken.” She inclined her head graciously. “Doubt is a common barrier to enlightenment.”
“I wasn’t aware enlightenment was amongst the services you offered.”
His sardonic expression conveyed that he wasn’t convinced by her act. Regardless of whether he recognized her, he did not trust her.
He has more brains than I gave him credit for.
“I offer clarity to the curious,” she said. “For those whose hearts are open, such knowledge may bring resolution and peace. I do not, however, possess the ability or inclination to prove my talents to those of an inflexible temperament.”
He narrowed his eyes. Before he could reply, his sister nudged him in the ribs.
The casual gesture spoke of familial ease and affection.
Finn recognized it not from her family by birth—as an orphan, she had no memory of her parents—but from her family by choice.
She and her gang, the self-dubbed “Hawks,” enjoyed ruffling one another’s feathers.
They would also, without hesitation, lay down their lives for one another.
“You will find us an open-minded bunch, Madame Seraphina,” Lady Gigi said brightly. “However, the males in the family tend to be overprotective.”
The duchess’s charm was irresistible. Lord Owen glowered at his sister, and she responded by looking at Finn with lifted brows, as if to say, See what I mean?
Finn had to firm her lips to stop herself from laughing.
“We were hoping to arrange a consultation,” Xenia Harrington said. “Might I persuade you to pay a visit to my home, Bottoms House?”
Triumph rushed through Finn. The fact that these pigeons were inviting her into their roost meant she’d done her job and done it well. Before she could make a show of graciously granting their request, Lord Owen spoke.
“Over my dead body,” he said succinctly.
The ladies gasped.
Finn curled her fingers. That can be arranged.
“Owen, why are you—” Xenia Harrington began.
“We do not involve strangers in family affairs.” His tone was firm. “Your husbands will back me on this.”
The women traded uneasy looks, obviously trying to decide if they should consult their spouses.
They did not seem like meek, biddable women.
Yet some men, Finn thought grimly, had a way of manipulating and bending even the fiercest woman to their will.
She thought of Iris, the strongest woman she knew.
Iris was the Hawks’ leader and filled the roles of mother, sister, and best friend to Finn.
Finn’s heart clenched at the memory of their last meeting.
Once a vibrant beauty, Iris had looked at her with blank eyes ringed by dark circles.
Her lustrous, copper-colored tresses had been reduced to greasy strands that hung limply around her gaunt face.
“Please do whatever Carver says. I won’t survive without him. And he…he’ll hurt me if you don’t get him what he wants.”
“I think Manderly would agree that this avenue is worth exploring.”
Evie Harrington’s words returned Finn’s focus. She judged the blonde countess to be an intellectual sort—rather like Nell. Finn would appeal to her sense of logic.
“Ethan would as well,” Xenia Harrington said.
The redhead had a warmth of character—empathy that could be exploited.
“Grantley might disagree,” Lady Gigi said.
She lifted her shoulders as if disagreement with her duke was neither unusual nor an impediment to proceeding as she wished.
If Lady Gigi wasn’t a pigeon—and a duchess—I could be friends with her.
“His Grace lets you get away with anything,” the countess teased. “That’s settled, then.”
“Nothing is settled.” Lord Owen aimed a smoldering look at the women.
“In this family, I may not have the same authority as my brothers. While I cannot blame you for doubting my judgment—God knows you have reason to—I must insist that you heed me now. No good will come of allowing this medium to meddle in our affairs.”
He said “medium” as if it were an epithet.
I’ve been called worse, Finn thought philosophically.
Unfortunately, his words had an immediate effect upon the ladies.
“I do trust your judgment, dear.” Lady Gigi bit her lip. “I never meant to imply otherwise.”
“You have a say in things, Owen.” Xenia Harrington’s remorse was obvious. “We value your opinion ever so much.”
“Perhaps we ought to put the matter aside for now,” the countess said. “A decision does not have to be made today, after all.”
“I think that is for the best,” Lady Gigi agreed. “Thank you again for an elucidating experience, Madame Seraphina. We shall be in touch.”
Before Finn could think of a way to stop her plan from falling to pieces, the ladies gathered around Lord Owen and shepherded him off. They did not look back, but he did. Finn’s gaze clashed with his: she saw the storm of his emotions but couldn’t guess the cause.
Why is he so bleeding hard to read?
Then they were gone, and Finn was left fuming.
Caleb approached her, his expression stark.
“I’m calling a meeting of the Hawks,” he said.
A half-hour later, Finn headed up to the meeting in the attic. She’d taken her time changing out of her seer’s costume. Truth be told, she’d been stalling. She would have to disclose her full history with Owen Harrington, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
Her gang had one cardinal rule: Hawks fly together.
They shared everything and kept no secrets from one another.
Their survival depended on trust and utmost loyalty.
The night Finn had lured Lord Owen to the tavern room, Tansy and Nell had been keeping watch from a distance.
Given the dark setting, the girls might not have recognized Lord Owen as the pigeon they’d plucked.
However, that wasn’t why Finn was dragging her feet.
No, that reason had to do with what had happened between her and Lord Owen in the room beyond watchful eyes.
She regretted her instinct to keep her indiscretion to herself.
At the time, it had been too embarrassing to share that she had allowed herself to be pleasured…
by a mark. By a swell, to make matters worse.
While the Hawks were not prudish—growing up in London’s rookeries relieved one of delicate sensibilities—Finn could not bring herself to admit that she’d lost control of the situation.
With Iris gone, Finn, as the next eldest, had been left in charge. She had to ensure the survival of the group. She was supposed to set a good example…which didn’t include climaxing in the arms of a stranger she was planning to rob.
How could I have been so stupid?
Like interest owed to a moneylender, her bad decisions were compounding rapidly.
Now she had to deal with Lord Owen, who’d erected himself—ugh, get your mind out of the gutter, Finn—…
who’d planted himself like a bloody brick wall in her path.
She had compromised the current mission because of her lapse in judgment.
Because she’d lost control for a few moments, Iris’s well-being and the survival of the Hawks were in jeopardy.
Give an inch—and the world will take everything.