Chapter 12
Twelve
“Gor, this place is something, ain’t it?” Tansy said with a low whistle.
Finn didn’t disagree. As she and the Hawks walked up the drive, she observed that Bottoms House was a rare mix of majestic and friendly.
The flanking oaks were stately, the spills of wildflowers between them unexpected and charming.
Trimmed hedgerows and bushy flowering shrubs shared the space, with an occasional bench here and there for resting and enjoying the view.
The manor itself was built of limestone mellowed by age.
The ivy climbing the walls was artfully tamed and bordered the rows of sparkling windows.
Given her growing intimacy with Owen, Finn fancied she saw his hand in the landscaping.
The style had his blend of proper and wild, and his respect for nature showed in the way he tamed rather than fought it.
His genius lay in subtlety: like a spider’s web, one didn’t realize one was caught up in his art until it was too late—rather like the man himself.
Since their parting yesterday, she’d thought about him constantly.
Their passion had been a revelation…but it was more than that.
Everything she’d learned about him deepened her attraction. He hadn’t allowed privilege or misfortune to determine who he was. He wasn’t perfect. He was a warrior who’d emerged from battle with scars, and those badges of survival made him irresistibly human in her eyes.
It was a miracle that the Hawks hadn’t discovered her tryst. At dawn, she’d managed to sneak back into her chamber unseen.
Later at supper, she’d casually mentioned that she’d seen Lord Owen in the village that afternoon, apologized, and gained an invitation to Bottoms House.
Her gang had been too excited to examine the gift horse, and Finn had felt a teensy bit guilty at her deception.
As for the apparition in the woods, she hadn’t mentioned that either. It was bad enough that her leadership was being called into question; she didn’t want her sanity to be doubted as well. Fatigue had probably caused her to hallucinate. All she needed was a good night’s rest to restore her senses.
“Woolgathering, Finn?”
Caleb’s snide tone irked her.
“I wasn’t woolgathering,” she retorted. “I was reviewing the plan.”
“We go in. You distract the toffs while we search the place for the hidden treasure.” Caleb quirked a brow. “Am I missing anything?”
“No sticky fingers.” Finn gave the group a stern look. “We take only the jewels. If we pocket anything else, the Harringtons will think we’re thieves.”
Tansy’s brow creased. “Aren’t we?”
“Well, yes. But in this instance, we are thieves who are only after the emerald parure.”
“Swells like them wouldn’t notice a bit of missing silver,” Caleb scoffed.
“I mean it.” Finn pulled herself to her full height. “This is a command from your leader.”
“She’s no fun, is she?” Caleb stage-whispered to Tansy.
“No fun at all,” Tansy agreed.
Rolling her eyes, Finn mounted the steps and rang the bell.
They were let in by a jowly butler who announced himself as Brunswick.
He guarded the entry hall like a mastiff, regarding them with deep suspicion.
While the Hawks’ somber garments were neat, the light revealed their worn and mended state.
Tansy had forgotten to polish her scuffed boots.
Beside her, Nell tugged at her sleeves, which were a tad short, and Simon fixed his gaze on the gleaming pink marble floor.
Finn set her shoulders back. Her veil hid her expression while she studied the butler’s. His disdain was clear; he regarded them like they were some ragtag bunch here to swindle his employer…
Well. Even if he is not wrong, he doesn’t have to be so condescending.
Finn raised her chin. “I am Madame Seraphina, and I am expected.”
Before the guard dog could reply, a warm female voice cut in.
“My dear Seraphina, thank you so much for coming!”
Xenia was a charming vision in ruffled pink, but it was Owen standing next to her who captured Finn’s attention.
Her silly heart hiccupped at how handsome he was.
He was every inch the fashionable lord in his slate-blue frock coat, striped waistcoat, and tan trousers.
Yet he was himself, too. His pearl-grey cravat was slightly off-center, as if he’d tugged at it.
The front wave of his hair dipped into his eyes.
The banked heat in his gaze gave her a delicious thrill.
He strode to her and bowed. She tensed as he reached to touch her cheek. If this was his idea of discretion, everyone would know their business.
“May I?” he asked.
She realized he was offering to help her with her veil. The courtly gesture caused her knees to wobble. When she nodded, he pinned up the black lace.
“That is better.”
While his tone was grave, she saw the smile in his eyes.
“Now Madame Seer can actually see.”
Xenia broke Finn’s reverie, saving her from gawking at Owen like some lovelorn miss.
“You’ve brought your charming assistants. Welcome, my dears.” Xenia beamed at the Hawks. “Would you care to join us for tea in the drawing room?”
“That is kind but unnecessary—” Finn began.
“Yes, please, milady.” Tansy put on her shy, dimpled smile. “I am feeling rather parched.”
“We shall remedy that immediately,” Xenia said.
Unfortunately, Owen took that moment to notice Simon’s footwear. He stared at the boots before lifting his gaze to Simon’s face, which had turned a telltale red. Finn held her breath.
“Nice boots,” Owen said. “I couldn’t have chosen finer ones myself.”
His easy smile lured one from Simon.
Finn’s relief was short-lived, however. When they entered the drawing room, she saw three gentlemen with Gigi and Evie.
Two of them bore the Harrington stamp. The bronze-haired fellow had a distinguished air and hawkish features; as he was standing protectively by Evie’s side, Finn presumed he was James Harrington, the Earl of Manderly.
The other fellow shared Gigi’s dark hair and indigo eyes.
He swept a measuring glance over the Hawks.
“Well, my love.” He spoke to Xenia with husbandly affection, confirming that he was Lord Ethan Harrington, the middle brother and master of Bottoms House. “You’ve collected quite an entourage.”
“These are Madame Seraphina’s assistants,” Xenia said.
Introductions were made, with Tansy performing a nimble curtsy. Finn saw Caleb and Nell take stock of the well-appointed drawing room, no doubt calculating how much the silver candlesticks and small bronzes would fetch. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one to notice.
“Bit young to be fleecing the public, aren’t they?”
The dry comment was uttered by the Duke of Grantley, Gigi’s husband, who shared a settee with her. He was rakishly handsome with golden hair and pale green eyes. His tough, ruthless quality set Finn on edge, but it didn’t seem to intimidate his duchess one bit.
“Be nice,” Gigi scolded.
He leaned over, and whatever he whispered in her ear caused roses to bloom on her cheeks. He smiled, brushing his lips across her temple. Yet when he and the other newcomers turned to Finn, their guarded countenances told her she had more obstacles to conquer.
Stick to the plan. You are Madame Seraphina, here to do them a favor.
“Please refresh yourselves,” Xenia said.
She waved everyone to the seats surrounding a coffee table piled with refreshments.
Tansy’s eyes widened at the platters of sandwiches, pastries, cheese, and fruit; she wasted no time in accepting their hostess’s invitation, filling a plate with gusto and settling happily on the settee next to Gigi.
Waiting until everyone was settled, Finn glided toward a chair.
As she reached it, she swayed with theatrical precision, grabbing the back as if to steady herself.
“Easy there.”
Flustered, she realized that Owen had rushed to her side. His hands, large and warm, braced her waist. If that intimacy didn’t give them away, surely his concerned expression would.
Don’t get distracted, Finn. You have a job to do.
She pulled free. He released her, worry lingering in his eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am fine.”
To her consternation, the quiver in her voice was not entirely feigned. He helped her to sit before settling in the chair beside her. His attentiveness did not go unnoticed; she saw the looks his brothers aimed his way. Caleb’s eyes also had a speculative glint that she did not like.
Do not let your personal feelings get in the way. You are a leader. Act like one.
“I beg your pardon,” she said. “As a medium, I am sensitive to disturbances in the spiritual miasma, and I was momentarily overset.”
Owen narrowed his eyes slightly. The other men were less subtle in expressing their skepticism.
“Spiritual miasma, eh?” Lord Ethan turned to his lady. “And here I thought our house was quite spotless. Will you take the housekeeper to task, pet, or shall I?”
“Do stop teasing,” Xenia chided. “This is serious business, darling.”
Lord Ethan’s response was an ill-concealed snort.
“I have felt the miasma myself.” Gigi came to Finn’s rescue. “When I first came here, I too experienced strong emotions.”
“I wager I may take some credit for that,” Grantley said with a smirk.
“You did have a way of grating upon my nerves.” Gigi giggled when His Grace took his revenge by tugging on the dangling raven curl by her cheek. “However, I am referring to a phenomenon within this manor. To me, it feels like a magnifying glass for emotions: one feels things here more acutely.”
“I agree,” Evie said.
She smiled at the earl, who lifted her hand and kissed it.
Sensing an opening, Finn took it. “Beyond the veil, emotions have a purity not found in the everyday. When spirits cross over into our world, they bring with them that intensity of feeling. Those with keen sensibilities can feel that force—that touch of the mystical.”
“I think that applies to me,” Gigi breathed.