Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Finn woke up to chirping.
When her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she recognized the gamekeeper’s cottage…
and her lips curled when she saw the sinewy arm slung over her waist. She was on her side, nestled in the solid harbor of Owen’s body.
Sighing, she snuggled against him, feeling the steady movement of his chest while he slept.
Making love with Owen had been transcendent. She had no regrets about giving him her virginity. Beyond the pleasure, he understood her as no one else did. While his game had been naughty, she knew he’d taken the reins so that she could let go. She’d never let down her guard like that before…
Perhaps that was why she’d confessed her love.
Worries stirred as she contemplated how much she’d exposed.
Had she made a mistake? Owen had professed his love time and again.
Surely she could count on him to help her…
but what if he refused? What if he felt betrayed by all the lies she’d told and took back his love?
If he abandoned her, how would she rescue Iris and protect the Hawks? How would she survive a broken heart?
You have no choice. Tell him everything now.
She turned to face him and was surprised to see his eyes were open. They were clear and alert, and even though they’d only dozed a few hours, the shadows beneath had faded. He looked refreshed and so handsome that her heart did a slow somersault.
“Good morning, love,” he said.
“Good morning.” Given their torrid lovemaking, the shyness that overcame her was absurd. “Did you, um, sleep well?”
“I’ve never slept better.” He took her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “You wore me out with your lusty demands.”
“I wasn’t the one in a dictatorial mood last night,” she said with a huff.
“I know.” His grin was slow and wicked. “A nice change, wasn’t it?”
Recalling how thoroughly she’d surrendered—and how much she’d enjoyed it—she felt a telltale quiver between her thighs.
His grin widened. “I should give you orders more often.”
“You are quite masterful as it is, thank you.”
She took a breath and told herself to stop stalling.
“Owen…we need to talk.”
“That never bodes well after a night of lovemaking.” Though his tone was light, his expression turned serious. “I didn’t hurt you, did I, love?”
“Of course not,” she said quickly. “I enjoyed being with you more than anything.”
The lines between his brows relaxed. “That is a relief. Then what did you wish to talk about?”
“It has to do with…with solving the last riddle.”
Crikey. Why am I hedging?
“Don’t worry.” He caressed the slant of her cheekbone. “You made good progress by identifying Felix Pearce. This afternoon, we shall all put our heads together and—”
“There’s more to the story that I haven’t told you.” She steeled herself. “It has to do with—”
The knock cut her off.
“What in blazes?”
Owen swung his head toward the opening door. He stiffened—probably realizing the same thing she did: he’d forgotten to bolt it.
“Are you decent, dearest? Papa and I arrived this morning, and Xenia is preparing the most marvelous luncheon…oh.”
The warm voice belonged to one of the most beautiful women Finn had ever seen.
Since she was basically an older version of Gigi, Finn didn’t have to guess her identity.
The Marchioness of Blackwood’s shocked violet eyes were taking in the sight of her youngest son in bed with a strange woman, both clearly stark naked under the covers.
“I told you we should have waited, Penny.”
Finn’s face burned even hotter when she realized that the marchioness was not alone. The distinguished man standing behind her had hawkish features and hair a shade lighter than Owen’s. He kept his gaze assiduously averted from the bed, looking like he would rather be anywhere but here.
I know how he feels.
As everyone remained frozen in silence, Owen cleared his throat.
“Good morning,” he said. “Mama and Papa, I would like to introduce my fiancée, Miss Seraphina Kidd.”
“As we are to be family, Miss Kidd, do tell us more about yourself,” the Marchioness of Blackwood said pleasantly.
Finn looked up from the dizzying array of silverware, from which she’d been trying to pick the correct fork.
To celebrate the arrival of the Harrington patriarch and matriarch, Xenia had arranged a formal luncheon.
The Hawks would love the food, but they were enjoying it elsewhere—the lucky bastards.
As for Finn, she had barely eaten a bite. Her stomach was in knots. She didn’t know how she’d ended up in this impossible situation—well, actually, she did.
She narrowed her eyes at Owen, who was seated across the table from her.
He was partially hidden by an epergne filled with flowers and fruit, but he caught her look.
He raised his brows and gave a slight shrug—as if his high-handed declaration of their betrothal had been a perfectly natural thing to do.
He’d said as much during their brief exchange after being caught in flagrante by his esteemed parents.
“What else would you have me do, Finn?” he’d asked as he’d yanked on his trousers.
“I don’t know, but not that,” she’d cried.
“Your reputation and my honor are at stake. It is the right thing to do.”
Before she could argue, he’d pulled her close.
“More importantly, it is what I want to do,” he said steadily. “I love you, Finn, and you told me you love me. We made love. When you gave me the gift of your virginity last night, I told you I would be your first and last lover. What did you think I meant by that, if not marriage?”
Her heart had thumped with desperate longing. “You cannot marry me—”
“I can and I will. I know you are concerned about my parents, but I assure you they are ecstatic that I am following in the family tradition of marrying for love. Once they get to know you, they will adore you.” He’d kissed her hand. “But let us not tempt fate by making them wait.”
Realizing that Lady Blackwood was awaiting a reply now, Finn said hastily, “There is not much to say, my lady. I am no one of import.”
“As you are the lady to whom my son has pledged his future, I must disagree. I would like to get to know you better, my dear. Where does your family hail from?”
Although the marchioness’s manner was gracious, Finn sensed the underlying steel.
The lady was the height of sophistication in her lilac gown dripping with lace, but she was no society nitwit.
Her violet eyes were sharper than the knife the butler was using to carve a joint on the sideboard.
Finn’s instincts told her that Owen’s mama would sniff out a lie, and the best tactic was to stick as close to the truth as possible.
“I have no family. I am an orphan.”
She lifted her chin; let these bluebloods judge her.
“You know nothing of your family, then?”
“Nothing. All I have of them is this pendant.” Refusing to be embarrassed, Finn brushed her fingertips over her talisman. “It was in the basket with me when I was left at the orphanage.”
She braced herself for condescension—or worse yet, pity.
“Then that pendant must be special indeed.”
Oddly, Finn sensed no mockery in Lady Blackwood’s smile.
“As you are, my dear, for surviving such difficult beginnings,” the lady went on. “I understand more than you realize. Now tell me, when did you realize you could communicate with spirits?”
“Mama,” Owen said in a warning tone. “Pray do not subject my betrothed to an inquisition.”
“Nonsense, dear boy. Finn and I are merely getting acquainted, aren’t we?”
Finn considered her responses and picked the safest one. “Yes, my lady.”
“Finn has exceptional talents,” Gigi chimed in from across the table. “Due to her efforts, we are closer than ever to breaking the curse.”
Finn sent silent thanks to Gigi for diverting the flow of conversation.
As the latter apprised her parents of the latest developments, Finn was struck by the closeness of the Harrington clan.
She’d always thought of aristocrats as aloof, superior, and ruled by civility.
Yet this family related to one another with casual affection, teasing, and humor.
With a flash of understanding, she recognized that Owen’s siblings hadn’t found their happy marriages by accident: they were following in the footsteps of their parents.
Lord Blackwood was a stoic fellow with a military bearing.
Yet his love for his lady was obvious, as was the pride in his steel-blue eyes as he regarded his family.
When his gaze crossed with Finn’s, he did not look away.
Whereas the marchioness’s gleaming social polish made her more difficult to read, the marquess made no effort to conceal his opinion.
Finn could practically hear his thoughts.
I do not know who you are, nor do I trust your spiritual tomfoolery. Know that I will not stand idly by and allow you to hurt my son or the rest of my family. I will be watching you.
Beneath his flinty gaze, Finn felt her bravado deflating. She wanted to label him a condescending prig…but she knew that wasn’t true. He simply cared about his family and would do what was required to protect them. In truth, he’d passed on those admirable traits to Owen.
Moreover, he wasn’t wrong. Finn had been lying to Owen—to all the Harringtons.
She was going to hurt Owen. Her chest constricted as she contemplated hurting all the people at this table: Xenia, Gigi, Evie, and their husbands.
They’d taken her and the Hawks under their wing and shown nothing but kindness and generosity.
More than anything, she yearned to be deserving of their trust. She wished that her playacting could be real—that she could be Owen’s love, his bride, even the mama of his children.
After I tell him the truth, will any of that be possible?
“This emerald ring sounds extraordinary,” Lady Blackwood was saying.
“We’ll show it to you, Mama,” Xenia said. “Ethan is keeping it in the iron box in his study. According to Mr. Walford, an expert on the village’s history, the ring is part of a parure.”
“And solving the final clue will lead you to the rest of the jewels?” Lady Blackwood inquired.
“We believe so,” Gigi said.
She picked up a fork for the course being served, and Finn quickly chose the same.
“More importantly, the clue says that Felix Pearce left his last confession with the jewels. We think he was a witness to what happened to Rose and Thomas, and once we uncover the truth, we will break the curse,” Gigi finished.
Lord Blackwood raised his brows. “How close are you to solving the riddle?”
“We have hit an impasse,” she admitted. “However, Finn suggested that the lies mentioned in the clue might have to do with Felix Pearce. And maybe his confession, as he put it, is hidden at his final resting place. The trouble is we don’t know where that is.
We’ve searched the family plot at the churchyard, and there was no sign of him. ”
“Since the family hid him away his entire life, they likely did so in death as well,” Lady Blackwood murmured.
“Precisely. Our next step is to do a thorough search of the properties owned by the Pearces. Unfortunately, they had vast holdings over the years. Fortunately, I have a connection to the fellow who now owns most of them.”
Gigi smiled sweetly at her husband, who rolled his eyes.
“The most likely location is the Pearce manor,” Grantley said.
“Since Abel Pearce and his family vacated the premises, it has been sitting empty. The estate is sizeable and finding a grave, especially if it was intended to be hidden, will not be easy. There are also other properties to search. The old mill, for instance, and buildings along the village square.”
“I would be happy to lend a hand,” the marquess said. “After the delightful repast Xenia has provided, the exercise would do me good.”
“I shall go with you,” his wife said. “I find the notion of a treasure hunt quite exhilarating.”
“We can split up to cover more ground,” Gigi said excitedly. “Owen and Finn could accompany Grantley and me to the Pearce manor, if that suits you both?”
At Owen’s inquiring look, Finn hesitated. If this led to the discovery of the jewels, she needed to be present. But she also had matters to settle with Caleb now that he’d had time to, hopefully, cool off.
“I would like to help,” she said. “Perhaps I could return to Pell House first and assess the damage?”
“We have been informed about the attack on your young assistant.” Lord Blackwood’s countenance darkened. “Dreadful business. Ethan and James, you both know the local authorities. Have you summoned them to hunt down those scoundrels?”
“There is no need,” Finn said hastily. “The villains are unlikely to return.”
“That is beside the point.” Lord Blackwood gave her a stern look. “The terrorizing and abduction of children cannot be condoned. The blackguards must be brought to justice. If law and order is not upheld, we will be overrun by swindlers and rogues.”
Finn counted her lucky stars that his lordship didn’t know who he was sharing a table with.
Lord Ethan spoke up. “I’ve sent word to Constable Rawlins, Papa. He is investigating the matter.”
Anxiety swarmed Finn. She told herself that Carver’s men were likely back in London. The country authorities would have no hope of finding, let alone apprehending, them in the rookery ruled by Carver.
“Since that is settled, back to my plan,” Gigi said. “James and Evie, will you escort Mama and Papa to the mill? And Ethan and Xenia can head to the square—”
“I’m afraid I must excuse myself.” Xenia’s smile was apologetic. “As much as I’d like to help, I am feeling a bit peaked.”
“The babe has been keeping her up.” Lines of worry bracketed Lord Ethan’s mouth. “You should have a lie-down, pet.”
“I agree,” Lady Blackwood said. “Increasing ladies need their rest.”
At her mama’s pointed look, Gigi protested, “I get plenty of rest. Tell her, Grantley.”
“Gigi sleeps like a log.” Grantley slid his wife a wicked glance. “She also snores like one that is being sawed.”
His duchess’s squawk of protest was drowned out by laughter.