Page 86 of Four Promises to Love

“Then you better hope that Rose is more accommodating today,” Caleb muttered. “Iris does not have time to wait. We only have three days to get the goods to Carver.”

All too aware of the ticking clock, Finn clenched her jaw and said nothing.

The Harringtons were waiting at the entrance of the spa. A showy imitation of an ancient Roman temple, the place boasted columns, statuary, and a grand portico. The surrounding gardens tempered the flamboyant façade with touches of authenticity: bushes of creamy-white roses, beds of wildflowers swarmed by butterflies and bees, and hedges that were charmingly crooked.

Despite Finn’s tense mood, her lips softened at the way Owen was inspecting the plants. He’d told her that the spa grounds had been one of his first projects. Now he tested the weight of a bloom and measured the height of another; he reminded her of a goose checking on its goslings.

Spotting her, he said, “Welcome to Chudleigh Bottoms’s World Famous Roman Bath.”

“Is it really world famous?” she teased.

“It is now that Gigi and Miss Letty came up with the idea of selling the water as a love potion,” Owen replied.

“We didn’t claim it was a love potion,” Gigi protested. “We said the water was as pure as true love.”

“Yet when rumors circulated that drinking the water would lead to marriage bells, you didn’t exactly deny it,” her husband drawled.

“Why would I?” Gigi fluttered her eyelashes. “You fell head over heels for me after you drank the water.”

“That had nothing to do with the blasted water and you know it.”

He caught her by the waist, kissing her soundly while she giggled.

A wishful pang struck Finn. If only she were free to flirt and play with her lover. Yet she had to maintain her roles as leader and medium. She couldn’t let her gang think she was going soft—or Owen and his family suspect that she was conning them.

Your happiness doesn’t matter. Iris only has three days. Do your blooming job.

A tall, angular lady dressed in practical navy appeared under the portico. She was in her fifties, with a knot of grey hair and alert blue eyes. A wide smile creased her thin face.

“Welcome, my dears. I was awaiting your arrival.”

She extended her hands to Gigi, who clasped them.

“Dear Miss Letty,” Gigi said fondly. “Allow me to introduce our new friends.”

After introductions were made, Finn found herself under the good lady’s scrutiny.

“I confess I have been eager to meet you,” Miss Letty said. “Mrs. Elmwood recently came to take the waters and was singing your praises. Then, when I supped at the Briarbush, Mrs. Thornton called you a ‘fine addition to the village’—a compliment she rarely gives. You’ve brought such comfort to them both.”

“They are too kind,” Finn murmured.

“Gigi has informed me about your hunt for a mysterious clue,” Miss Letty went on, “and I have closed the spa to give you privacy. Come, let me give you a tour.”

As Miss Letty guided them through the premises—and the Hawks acted as if they were seeing it all for the first time—Finn tried to open her mind to Rose. The irony did not escape her that she was now a victim of her own hoax, but she had no choice. She had to find the clue. Owen, with his usual perspicacity, seemed to sense her desperate focus and gave her a wide berth.

Yet as the group traveled from room to room, nothing came to Finn. She tried physical contact, hoping it might spark a connection. She touched the stone hearth in the entry hall. In the high-ceilinged pump room, she ran her fingers over the glossy black pump that dispensed water from the spring and bent to touch the parqueted floor. Miss Letty took them to the second-floor gallery, which was ringed with statues of Roman deities.

Finn fondled Jupiter, Juno, Minerva, Bacchus, Venus—to no avail.

Her bad luck continued in the bathing hall, which boasted a large rectangular bath. Steam wisped and curled in the humid air. The Hawks dispersed, looking for hiding places they might have missed last night. Finn walked the perimeter of the bath, trailing her fingertips over every surface. Crouching, she placed her hand in the water.

It was warm, silky, and unremarkable.

Owen came over. “How are you faring?”

“I thought I would sense Rose’s presence, but I don’t.” Finn stood, her insides wound like a coil. “I don’t feel a blooming thing.”

“Perhaps you are trying too hard.”