Chapter 11
Eleven
Dawn was starting to filter through the trees as Finn made her way home.
She had decided to take the path through the woods to avoid the main house.
The last thing she needed was to be seen creeping off the estate after a night of debauchery.
While Owen slept, she’d dressed hurriedly, borrowing his frock coat to hide her disheveled state.
The garment was huge on her, yet wearing something of his made her heart go pitter-patter.
Don’t be a fool, Finn. It was just one night. It meant nothing.
Nonetheless, she couldn’t stop the silly grin from spreading over her face.
Last night, she’d finally learned what real passion was—why people bothered having lovers.
Truth be told, she’d begun to question the necessity of Jimmy’s presence during their encounters.
While she fully admitted to having a hot-blooded nature, his groping and sloppy kisses had left her wanting.
Meeting his demands had felt like work, which had made her think…
and thinking, she realized, was the antidote to desire.
With Owen, she lost herself in a way she rarely allowed herself to do. With him, it wasn’t even a choice. His intensity demanded her full participation—and she loved it. Loved being lost in the moment with him.
Yet a moment was one thing; losing sight of her mission was something she could not allow.
The strength of her attraction to Owen did not absolve her of her duty to Iris and the Hawks.
The gang needed her, and she would not let them down.
Luckily, she had managed to grow two plants—make that three—from one seed.
She’d apologized to Owen, enjoyed mind-shattering pleasure with him, and wrangled an invitation to Bottoms House.
After they’d gone several rounds—the man had stamina as well as skill—they’d lain on their sides facing one another.
As if they were lifelong friends rather than new lovers.
Dreamily, she had thought that she could gaze at Owen forever.
He’d looked sleepy and content, his eyes a dreamy cloud-grey.
His face had so much character, despite his age…
Wait a moment.
“How old are you?” she’d blurted.
He’d smiled lazily. “Shame on you. Tupping a fellow senseless without knowing his age.”
When she narrowed her eyes at him, he laughed.
“I am nine-and-twenty.” He tucked a tress over her ear. “How old are you?”
She hesitated, remembering the role she was supposed to play. She’d already shared too much. Maybe she ought to present herself as older and more sophisticated…but she didn’t have the heart to lie.
“Four-and-twenty.”
“We have much to learn about one another, don’t we?”
“We agreed that this arrangement was for tonight only,” she felt compelled to say.
He didn’t seem bothered. “I have the feeling you are not quite done with me yet.”
Recalling her multiple finishes, she felt herself blush. Even a wanton had limits.
“While that is not what I meant, do hold on to that delightful thought,” he said with a chuckle. “I was referring to your intentions for Bottoms House. You do wish to conduct a séance there, do you not?”
She blinked, her heart pounding. “You would agree to it?”
“As Bottoms House belongs to Ethan and Xenia, the decision falls to them. Xenia believes that you hold the key to unraveling the final mystery of what happened to Thomas and Rosalinda. According to her, you might possess the power to break the curse and free the two souls to be together beyond this plane.”
“Do you believe this as well?” Finn raised her brows. “I was under the impression you did not put stock in my profession.”
“I don’t.” He studied her. “But you strike me as a woman who does not act without reason. Tell me your true purpose, Finn, and if it brings no harm to my kin, I will help if I can.”
Oh, she was tempted. What if she told him about Iris’s plight and asked him to help her locate the jewels? What would happen if she laid her cards on the table?
He would show you the door, that’s what. Wealthy toffs do not give up a fortune that is rightfully theirs to help a stranger—that is how they stay wealthy. And Iris, an opium-eater and leader of an infamous gang, is hardly going to win any sympathy.
Finn couldn’t risk Iris’s well-being…but she didn’t want to lie either.
“I believe I am meant to visit the manor,” she said carefully. “That there are secrets there that I am meant to uncover.”
“Some secrets are best left as they are.”
“Not these ones. I sense that they can change things for the better…” She prayed she wasn’t giving away too much. “That maybe they can change lives.”
“You know this from your visions?”
She thought of Carver’s threats and Pearce’s letter.
“In my heart, I believe this to be true,” she said.
“And you swear you intend my family no harm?”
She touched his cheek. “I wouldn’t hurt your kin.”
“All right, then. Let me know when you wish to come, and I will arrange it.”
Now, walking through the woods, she felt tingling relief.
Somehow, she’d managed to have her cake and eat it too.
She’d indulged her attraction to Owen—and moved her stratagem along.
Tomorrow, she and the Hawks would go to Bottoms House and begin their search for the jewels.
Once they found the parure, they could trade it for Iris.
And the Harringtons wouldn’t be harmed by losing a bit of sparkle they didn’t need or know about.
She wouldn’t be breaking her word to Owen.
She frowned. What Owen thought of her shouldn’t matter so much. While she admitted that he’d become more than a mark, she could not allow herself to form an attachment. Such a bond was dangerous and a luxury she could ill afford.
Dawn had broken now, its pale glow waking up the forest. Birds chirped from leafy perches, their songs mingling with the distant rushing of water.
Finn became aware of her thirst; recalling that Wally had boasted about the purity of the stream that ran through these woods, she followed the gurgling sounds to a clearing.
There, an ancient yew tree stood gracefully next to a sparkling ribbon of water.
Approaching the mossy bank, she knelt and dipped her cupped hands into the clear stream. The water was cool and crisp, and she drank greedily. When she leaned over to scoop up more, she froze.
On the water’s surface was a woman whose beauty was glowing and ethereal, stunning to behold. Her long, dark hair flowed around her luminous face, and her eyes, vivid as emeralds, gazed into Finn’s. She smiled, reaching out with shimmering fingers, and Finn felt something brush against her cheek.
Gasping, she pulled back from the water’s edge.
Her heart thumped; her limbs shook.
That wasn’t real. It was a trick of the light. I imagined it.
Drawing a breath, she forced herself to peer into the stream again.
In the rippling reflection, all she saw was herself.