Chapter 21
Twenty-One
When Finn exited her bedchamber, Tansy was waiting in the corridor.
“Caleb’s called a meeting,” the girl said. “He said to fetch you.”
Blooming hell, I don’t have time for Caleb’s tantrums.
He’d simmered during their journey back to Pell House.
Since their arrival, Finn had avoided him on the pretense of preparing for the evening’s mission, but apparently he would hold his tongue no longer.
The timing was inconvenient—Owen would be escorting her to the stream soon—but postponing the conflict would only worsen Caleb’s temper.
Finn sighed. “Let’s go.”
They headed for the attic.
“You look different,” Tansy said.
Finn slanted her a glance. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“There’s a ribbon in your hair.”
Finn had decided to style her hair differently. She’d tied the top part back with a bow, leaving the rest to fall to her waist.
“It keeps my hair out of my eyes.”
“Is that lip dye?”
“I ate a blackberry.”
Finn felt foolish lying—and even more foolish for succumbing to vanity. Yet her disguise as Madame Seraphina was beginning to take its toll. She yearned to wear something other than the oppressive black bombazine…to be more herself again.
“Hmm,” was Tansy’s reply.
Finn hoped the rest of her gang wasn’t planning on subjecting her to the Spanish Inquisition. She knew they questioned her plan for this evening—but it was a sound decision. And she was the leader, wasn’t she? It was her job to steer the ship.
Entering the attic, she saw that everyone was at the table, a bowl of fresh-picked plums in the middle. To her annoyance, Caleb had taken the head seat. She strode to the seat at the opposite end where she remained standing, gripping the back of the chair.
“What’s this about?” she said coolly. “I have to get ready for tonight’s mission.”
“You are not going on a mission,” Caleb spat. “You are prancing off to a bleeding rendezvous with that toff!”
Finn forced herself to take a breath. “As I explained at Bottoms House, I am following a clue. Weren’t you listening?”
“I bloody well was, and what I heard was that, on the pretense of searching for the next clue, you and that lord are enjoying a cozy tryst by the stream.”
“It is not a pretense,” she said through gritted teeth.
“The clue clearly says to look where the water runs pure. The stream is the logical next place to search. And don’t forget that was where Gigi and Owen found the Mulligans’ marriage license.
Which could refer to the together and unafraid part of the clue—since Rose and Thomas made a fearless decision to be joined at the end. ”
Caleb crossed his arms. “That doesn’t justify you and that cove going there alone.”
“How am I supposed to look for the jewels with the entire Harrington clan looking over my shoulder?” she asked pointedly.
“I said that I needed to go alone to commune with Rose, but Owen insisted on providing an escort. To put up a fight would draw suspicion. If I find something, there’s a good chance that I can nab it on the sly if he’s the only one around. ”
“You would do that?” Caleb sneered. “Steal the stash from under your sweetheart’s nose?”
“He is not my sweetheart.” As she said it, she felt a flutter in her chest—which she ignored. “But he knows where the marriage license was hidden, and he knows the woods better than anyone. He will prove of use.”
“That still doesn’t explain the sudden care you’ve taken with your appearance.” Caleb narrowed his gaze. “Is that lip dye you’re wearing?”
Oh, for God’s sake.
“I am your leader.” She gave him her hardest stare. “No matter how much you covet the position, Iris gave the job to me. If you challenge me, you challenge her. Is that what you want?”
Righteous anger blazed on his pale face. For a heartbeat, she thought he might do it—that he might make a grab for power here and now. She kept her gaze fierce, daring him to try.
Curling his hands on the table, he dropped his eyes.
“Saving Iris is what matters,” he muttered. “You remember that.”
“I am hardly going to forget.” With the crisis narrowly averted, she released a breath. “We must all work together. While I investigate the stream, the rest of you have another assignment.”
“Does it involve the bashing of heads?” Tansy lifted two plums from the bowl, smashing them together.
“No head bashing,” Finn said sternly.
Then she sighed, passing a handkerchief to Tansy, who was busy licking plum juice from her fingers.
“I want you to have a look at the spa tonight,” Finn went on. “The duchess mentioned that the water there is known for its purity and that she saw Rose and Thomas there in her visions. It is possible that the clue refers to the spa rather than the stream.”
“That is a good idea,” Nell said. “We cover all contingencies.”
“But you must take care during your visit. Miss Letty, the spa’s owner, lives in a cottage at the back of the property, and you must not alert her,” Finn warned.
“We aren’t babes,” Caleb said sulkily. “We know how to break into a place without getting caught.”
“How many clues do you think there are before we find the treasure?” Nell asked.
“I don’t know.” Finn gnawed on her lip. “But I will send word to Carver of our progress. Hopefully, this latest clue will appease him.”
“The bastard doesn’t give a damn about clues,” Caleb said flatly. “He wants the jewels. If he doesn’t get them soon, Iris will be paying the price.”
Fear gripped Finn, but she refused to let it get the best of her.
“Then we’d best be as efficient as possible,” she said. “Let’s find the stash and bring Iris home.”
Owen hadn’t been back to the stream since he’d watched a man drown in its currents.
Yet he could not allow Finn to venture here by herself—with the purpose of summoning a dead spirit, by God.
The woman wasn’t as invincible as she thought.
As they walked through the woods, gilded by the sun’s last rays, he was struck again by her delicate beauty.
Perhaps it was the way she’d styled her hair, but she looked younger… and infinitely desirable.
Keep your mind on the task at hand. This isn’t a tryst.
Yet being alone with Finn had a profound effect on his senses.
His heart thumped faster, his blood ran hotter.
He felt alive and present in his own skin—and damnably randy.
He was already half-hard listening to her talk.
The topic of conversation didn’t even matter; he just liked hearing her voice.
It felt natural to take her hand, and she didn’t pull away, linking her fingers with his.
“How are you feeling after today’s sitting?” he asked.
That flirty smile he adored curved her lips.
“The same as when you asked me last.”
“Pardon my concern. I may never get used to you becoming someone else.”
“I am still there.” She canted her head. “Think of it like a dance. The spirit takes the lead, and I follow. Does that help?”
“A little.” He glanced at her. “Whilst we haven’t danced, I have the distinct feeling that you would try to take the lead.”
She laughed. “You know me well.”
“I would like to know you even more.”
The words slipped out. When Finn ducked her head, he silently cursed himself.
Knowing how skittish she was, he ought to have kept things casual.
But he’d never been good at hiding his emotions.
He was terrible at the games of courtship and would have happily avoided the business altogether—if Finn hadn’t come along.
She made abandoning his solitary, bachelor ways worthwhile.
“Isn’t that what we are doing now?”
Her light reply relieved him. He hadn’t ruined things by being too forthright.
“I thought we were hunting for a clue left by the mysterious F. P.”
As he spoke, he felt a pang of guilt. While his family now believed in Finn’s powers, they’d yet to reveal their suspicions about Langdon Pearce.
After Finn and her entourage had gone back to Pell House, he’d suggested to his kin that it was time to lay all the cards on the table.
They needed to trust Finn; withholding information might work against their goal of breaking the curse.
And what if the writer of the note—this F.
P.—was related to Langdon Pearce? The initial of the surname seemed too coincidental.
Xenia and Gigi had sided with him, but the others had stood their ground.
“This isn’t about trust,” James had insisted.
“This is about objectivity. By feeding a medium the answer beforehand, one contaminates the results. It is vital that we do not bias Seraphina with our suspicions about Langdon Pearce. If he is indeed the guilty party, then she needs to tell us this without prior knowledge.”
“I concur with Manderly,” Grantley had said. “But for me, it is also about trust. Whilst Seraphina may have visions, the fact remains that she and her assistants are a havey-cavey lot.”
The group had ended up with a compromise. They’d agreed to wait until the next clue was found. At that time, if Finn hadn’t identified the murderer in Rose’s vision, they would tell her their suspicions about Pearce. Meanwhile, James and Evie had volunteered to search the parish records for F. P.
While Owen didn’t like it, he’d agreed to abide by the group’s decision. Finn would understand. As she’d said before, she was used to skepticism about her work—and if she uncovered the truth on her own, his family would be convinced of her legitimacy once and for all.
“We can grow two plants from one seed,” she said. “Did you and your family have any new insights about the clue?”
His tongue knotted; he wasn’t good at lying.