Page 20 of Four Promises to Love

“They’re of little import,” Carver replied smoothly. “The Corrigans were ousted from a village called Chuddums, and this fellow came to me with a letter, claiming that he unearthed it from an old mill belonging to the prominent Pearce family. He believes that the author of the letter, Felix Pearce, was a relation of Langdon Pearce, a citizen of great wealth and standing. According to local lore, Langdon died some eighty-odd years ago after being cursed by a witch.”

“Superstitious bumpkins.”

Carver laughed appreciatively. “Indeed. But this is where it gets interesting. Soon after Langdon’s death, his widow accused the witch of stealing the family heirloom: her bridal jewels, commissioned by her wealthy papa from the jeweler to King George III, had disappeared. Apparently, the parure of emeralds was priceless. But this letter gives another explanation for the vanished treasure. It was stolen—hidden somewhere by this Felix Pearce. And I would like your help finding it.”

“Why don’t you get it yourself?” Finn asked. “You’ve got the men and resources.”

“Ah, but I don’t have someone with your ability to solve puzzles, dear Finn.”

Carver’s seductive smile had made Finn uneasy. She’d looked at Iris, who was dreamy-eyed, sitting in the cutthroat’s lap while he stroked her coppery hair as if she were a pet.

“Also, I have, shall we say, a history in that county,” Carver said easily. “It’s best if I don’t remind the local authorities of my existence. But you and the Hawks are unknown in Berkshire, and I would consider your assistance a personal favor.”

Iris had spoken up, her green eyes beseeching. “Please say you’ll help Alex. For my sake.”

Finn had never been able to refuse her friend.

Now Finn said with feeling, “I wish I had never seen this blasted letter.”

“It is not your fault for figuring out that the treasure is in Bottoms House,” Nell said. “You were clever to piece together the murder of Thomas Mulligan with the ‘place that can sink no lower than its name.’”

“No, what I did was stupid. Like blooding a hound before the hunt,” Finn said darkly. “Now Carver is obsessed with getting those emeralds. If we don’t find them, he’ll hurt Iris—or worse.”

Agony constricted Finn’s chest. Although Iris was only three years older, she’d been a natural leader and nurturing friend. She’d brought the Hawks together, protected them, given them a place to belong. Without Iris, there would be no gang: she was their beating heart.

“Not if I hurt Carver first,” Tansy volunteered.

“No violence.” With the edge of her sleeve, Finn wiped the gooseberry filling from the girl’s cheek and looked into her wide blue eyes. “Despite your talents, you are no match for Alex Carver and his army of cutthroats.”

“How would you know?” Tansy pouted.

“Put the idea out of your head,” Finn said sharply, the way Iris would. “The last thing I need is to have both you and Iris at the mercy of Carver.”

“Finn is right,” Nell said. “We must focus on getting into Bottoms House.”

“I could—” Tansy began.

“No,” Finn and Nell said as one.

“Since the Corrigans used Bottoms House to stash stolen goods and infiltrated the household staff with members of their gang, the Harringtons have kept their guard up,” Finn explained. “Ethan Harrington retains as many servants as a grand London lord. The family also has a reputation for sticking together.”

“All of Chuddums has an eye out for the Harringtons,” Nell added. “I’ve heard the villagers credit the family for improving Chuddums’s fortunes; they think the Harringtons will break the so-called curse. These clodhoppers might seem harmless, but they protect their own. I went to scout Bottoms House and didn’t make it past the gate before I was approached by some old codger named Wally.”

“You never mentioned this.” Finn frowned. “Did he seem suspicious?”

“More like nosy.” Nell shrugged. “When I pretended I was lost, he offered me a tour of the village. I made my excuses and got out of there. My point is that these folk look out for one another. Even if we managed to break into the manor undetected, we would have little time to search for the treasure. And if we failed, we would risk alerting the marks, making another search nigh impossible.”

“We must use our wiles, rather than force, to get in,” Finn agreed.

“Your wiles didn’t work on Owen Harrington,” Tansy said sulkily.

She was right, and the reminder of that failure curdled Finn’s belly.

“I should have gathered more information about him,” Finn muttered. “Before we came and put our stratagem into play.”

“How could you possibly guess that the random cove you targeted in London two months ago would turn out to be the youngest brother of the lord who owns Bottoms House and happens to live on his estate?” Nell said reasonably. “None of us considered the possibility that this brother might be important.”

“He is not important.” Hearing her own defensiveness, Finn amended, “He’s just a…a problem.”