Page 122 of Four Promises to Love

“I knew they were no assistants,” Manderly muttered to Evie, who hushed him.

“Our leader is named Iris. We met in the orphanage, and she took me under her wing. If it weren’t for her, I would not have survived⁠—”

“You’ve mentioned Iris.” Owen crossed his arms over his chest. “But you could be lying about her—the way you’ve lied about everything else.”

“Not everything.” Finn found the courage to correct him. “Iris is real, and her life is in danger. I told you she wasn’t well, and her illness…well, it has to do with a cutthroat named Alexander Carver.”

“Carver,” Xenia said sharply. “Those men last night said they were working for him.”

“Yes. Carver is a ruthless bastard, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants. A few months ago, he secured a letter from someone who ran with a gang called the Corrigans⁠—”

“A Corrigan is involved,” Lord Ethan said darkly. “Why am I not surprised?”

“This is the letter.”

Finn took it from her satchel, offering it to Owen. She held her breath until he finally reached for it. After scanning the letter, he passed it around the room.

His expression remained stoic. “All this letter proves is that you knew F. P. was Felix Pearce all along. And you knew about the jewels.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Carver had become obsessed with the treasure, but he couldn’t figure out the riddle. His lackeys fared no better. Then he met Iris, and he figured he could use us Hawks to attain his prize. In London, my gang had garnered a reputation for, um, our schemes and ingenuity⁠—”

“You ran swindles,” Owen said flatly.

She nodded. “Carver realized we could help him and tried to persuade us to join his gang. We knew how dangerous and violent he was and wanted no part of it. He pretended to accept our decision, then began courting Iris. Unfortunately, he can be as charming and manipulative as he is merciless, and Iris succumbed to his wiles.”

“Poor Iris,” Evie murmured.

“That was just the start. It wasn’t enough for him to hold her heart captive—he wanted to control her body as well. He began giving her opium and before long, Iris turned into a different person.” Finn fought to control the tremor in her voice. “She was no longer the sister I once knew and the Hawks’ fearless leader. She submitted to Carver and told us to follow his orders. I was afraid that he would hurt her if we didn’t, and stupidly, I figured out the first part of the clue for him: that the place that can sink no lower than its name referred to Bottoms House.

“Rather than helping Iris, I made matters worse for her. Carver took her prisoner, withholding the drug to torment her. He made us witness her suffering.” Finn shut out the image of Iris, wasted to skin and bones, her eyes sunken and lifeless as she lay in her own filth. “He told us the only way we could get her back was to give him the treasure. So the Hawks and I surveilled Chuddums and learned about the curse of Bloody Thom. I created Madame Seraphina so that we could infiltrate the village and search for the treasure.”

“Your reputation for ingenuity is certainly well earned,” Lady Blackwood said.

To Finn’s surprise, the marchioness’s tone didn’t seem entirely condemning.

She forced herself to continue. “After my dishonesty, I know my word means nothing. But I give it to you anyway: what I am telling you now is the truth. I was after the treasure not out of avarice but love. For Iris, my sister and friend, the woman to whom I owe my life.”

Owen’s stare was piercing. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? I told you I loved you, Finn, and would do anything for you and your family.”

The punch of regret shortened her breath.

“I should have told you,” she said haltingly. “I wanted to. So many times, I came close…”

Seeing his gaze shutter, she knew he thought close was not enough. And he was right. He’d given her his love and deserved far better in return. He deserved the deepest truth, which she had never spoken aloud.

“I was afraid you would reject me,” she whispered.

“Bloody hell, Finn, do you think so little of me?” He glared at her.

“Not of you—of me,” she cried. “I am nobody, Owen. My parents didn’t want me, and before I met Iris, no one cared if I lived or died! I wasn’t worth anything to anyone. So I learned to fend for myself and perhaps I learned too well. Then I met you”—she gestured at him—“and you’re everything someone like me does not get to have.”

“That’s absurd,” he shot back. “I told you I don’t care about our differences in station.”

“I’m not talking about your wealth and title.” She’d worked herself into a fine lather and couldn’t stop. “I’m referring to the fact that you’re good and decent and have a family who loves you. And you aren’t some pampered toff—you survived the worst of circumstances to become the strong, kind, and honorable gentleman you are. To top it off, you are ridiculously handsome—even your blooming hair is attractive! Meanwhile, what am I? A bastard sharpster who runs swindles to survive. And I can’t even say I’m sorry for it.”

She glowered at him, her chest heaving. The room went so silent that a dropping pin would have deafened them all. But she lost track of everyone else when the mask of hostility slipped from Owen, and she saw a flash of his old warmth.

“You think my hair is attractive?”