Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
The day passed in a flurry of activity.
As the first order of business, Finn went to find Caleb at Pell House.
He wasn’t there, but to her astonishment, half the village was.
News of the ransacking had spread, and the villagers had rallied to help.
The carpenter had come with his apprentice, and the two repaired the damage to the walls and furnishings.
Mr. Duffield was lending his expert eye to the selection of the new upholstery.
Others were sweeping and cleaning, and Mrs. Thornton had brought a feast to feed them all.
Even Wally and Mr. Khan were there, and although they were mostly eating and chatting, their show of support touched Finn.
In fact, the outpouring of kindness had her fighting back tears and made her conscience feel heavier than a bag of bricks.
At the same time, she hastily instructed Simon and Nell to hide any incriminating evidence of their spiritualism scheme.
Leaving the Hawks to oversee the restoration, Finn had gone with the Grantleys to the Pearce estate.
Unfortunately, she didn’t get a chance to talk to Owen because he’d taken Xenia’s place, accompanying Lord Ethan to search the village square.
With her plan once again thwarted, Finn focused on the task of locating Felix Pearce’s last resting place.
She began exploring the grand, showy manor and grounds with the Grantleys, and it became readily apparent that it would take days to complete a search.
They left empty-handed.
Now it was after supper, and Finn was once again staying at Bottoms House. However, Nell and the others had declined to join her.
“As nice as the Harringtons are, they’re pigeons, Finn.” Nell had bitten her lip. “We cannot get too close. Maybe Caleb had the right of it.”
God only knew where Caleb had gone. Or when he intended to come back. When he had a head full of steam, he was unpredictable. His actions were splitting the gang apart when they needed to band together to save Iris.
Finn knew it was time to tell Owen everything.
She had no choice but to risk his anger…
and even losing his love. But her trust in his honor, decency, and loyalty prompted her to act.
After she was certain everyone was abed, she left the bedchamber and stealthily made her way toward the gamekeeper’s cottage.
She didn’t get far. In the corridor downstairs, she heard a noise. Years of instinct had her flattening herself against the wall. She pinpointed the origin of the sound: a room up ahead—Lord Ethan’s study.
She crept over and saw the door was ajar. Hushed tones came from inside.
“Scream, and it’ll be the last sound you make. Do you understand?”
The growled threat raised the hairs on her nape.
“Y-yes.”
Her blood chilled further as she recognized Xenia’s terrified whisper. Cursing herself for not bringing her dagger, she looked around for a weapon—
“We’re here for the ring. We know it’s in here. Tell us where it is.”
“I-I don’t know—”
“Tell us, you uppity bitch.”
Xenia’s whimper sent Finn through the door.
“Easy, fellows,” she murmured.
She held her hands up, showing she was unarmed. Nonetheless, two of the brutes trained their pistols upon her. The leader held Xenia against him like a shield, his blade at her throat. Wearing a dressing gown that showed the slight swell of her belly, Xenia was shaking like a leaf.
“Carver just wants the ring.” Finn continued to speak in low, soothing tones. “You don’t need to hurt her.”
“Look at what flew in.” The leader sneered. “Carver ain’t too pleased with you, little Hawk. Sent us to finish what you couldn’t.”
Get Xenia out of danger first. Worry about the rest later.
“I was doing my job,” she said. “Fooled these bluebloods into trusting me, didn’t I? I found the ring, and I’m close to getting the rest of the jewels.”
She saw Xenia flinch and pushed it aside.
“Carver ain’t happy you kept the ring from him. He wants it. Now.”
Xenia gasped as the brute pressed the knife against her throat.
Her heart hammering, Finn said, “Let her go, and take me instead. I know where the ring is—I’ll get it for you.”
“You’ll get it for us now, if you want this fine filly to live.”
There was no choice but to comply with his demand.
Keeping her eyes on the ruffians, Finn edged toward Lord Ethan’s desk.
With a thief’s memory for details, she found the key in the drawer where she’d seen him store it; going to the oil painting near the desk, she released the latch in the frame as he’d done.
The painting swung away from the wall, revealing the iron strongbox.
Taking a breath, she inserted the key and opened it with a click.
One of the thugs shoved her aside, searching the contents.
“Found it.” Triumphantly, he held up the ring; even in the dimness, the emerald flashed.
“You have the ring. Now let her go,” Finn said. “I promise I’ll get Carver the rest—”
A creaking floorboard made her spin around. Owen stood in the doorway. His hands were fisted at his sides, his eyes stormy with rage.
“Make a move, a sound, I slit her throat,” the brute said.
It took every ounce of willpower for Owen not to act.
Impotent fury filled him as he saw the blade at Xenia’s throat, the way she trembled as she clutched her midsection.
So much was at stake and he couldn’t afford to make a wrong move.
He couldn’t let himself be distracted by Finn—by the shocking, agonizing revelation that he’d made the worst of choices and endangered his loved ones yet again.
The cutthroats circled toward the door. He remained where he was, blocking their exit.
“Get out of our way,” the leader hissed.
“Release her first,” he said.
“Not until we’re out of here.”
The bastard jerked Xenia roughly, her wheeze of pain churning Owen’s insides. He tightened his fists and resisted the urge to launch himself at the blackguards. He couldn’t risk Xenia, or the life she carried, coming to harm.
“Let her go,” he said evenly. “You have my word that I will not fight or follow you.”
“Listen to him,” Finn said. “If you try to drag her out of the house, you risk waking the others.”
Finn spoke calmly—of course she did. She was one of them: a plant who’d been after the jewels all along. Everything she’d said and done had been a lie.
He blocked out the pain.
“We are outnumbered and weaponless,” she went on. “We couldn’t stop you if we tried. Just let her go and walk out of here.”
Clenching his jaw, Owen saw her words hit home.
The leader jerked his head toward the other two, who kept their pistols raised as they backed toward the door.
Owen moved aside, and they left the room, standing just beyond, their weapons trained on him.
The leader went last, keeping Xenia between them.
Then he shoved her, and she pitched forward with a cry.
Owen caught her before she hit the ground.
The roaring in his ears muffled the sound of the cutthroats’ retreat.
He would deal with them later—after he took care of Xenia.
Laying her head on his lap, he saw with panic her bloodless features and fluttering lashes.
With shaking hands, he examined her throat, exhaling when he saw no mark from the blade. He found her pulse.
Strong and steady. Thank Christ.
“She’s swooned.” Finn’s voice trembled. “I’ll get help.”
He looked up at her, fury bleeding through his vision.
“You’ve done enough, you deceitful jade,” he bit out.
“I-I know I have a lot to explain—”
“I do not want to hear another lie from you!”
The agony would have crushed him if not for the armor of numbness. It had protected him during the war and years of captivity, and it slipped over him now like a familiar skin.
“You are working with those bounders. You’re no spiritualist—you’re an adventuress and a fraud. I was a fool not to see it.”
“No.” She swallowed. “That is, yes, I…I did lie, but I had reason—”
“I don’t give a damn about your reasons. Xenia nearly died because of you and your cutthroat friends!”
“They’re not my—”
“No more bloody lies! I don’t want to see you again. You are despicable, using your wiles to prey on others,” he grated out. “Now leave before I change my mind and have you and your criminal gang arrested!”
She stared at him, stricken, tears streaming down her face.
He hated himself for the way it tore at his heart.
Then she turned and ran from the room.
Scooping up Xenia, he carried her out, shouting for help.