Queen (Regency Refuge 3) (6 page)

Owen led Isabel back to the rock overhang and sent her on her way down the path. Then he gingerly made his way back to the inn. Hank left the side door open for him. The big man hadn't been too happy with Owen the last time he'd been late getting back. Owen had been forced to bang on the door until Hank woke and let him in. Rather than wake the man again, Owen had opted for the quieter approach. He'd given Hank another coin and told him he wouldn't make it back to the inn until late. Then he'd offered the man an exaggerated wink.

Owen slipped silently inside and made his way down the interior stairs.

Nothing was noticeably amiss when he strode into his room, but he'd been careful about where he'd placed everything. He'd even done his best to flatten the paper so whoever Isabel sent to search his room wouldn't be able to describe it to her. Tobias had given up sending messages in triplicate. The number of agents had increased until such a method became unwieldy. Having been in America, though, Isabel likely didn't know that yet.

He'd placed the letter in the hidden compartment in the bottom of his portmanteau and had piled his clothes in on top just so.

The clothes appeared undisturbed, but as he pulled them out one item at a time, he discovered the two small pebbles hidden between the layers were missing. Someone had been through his things. He opened the compartment at the bottom and took a look. The letter lay seemingly undisturbed, but he had no doubt someone had been in his room to copy it.

The letter was nothing but gibberish, but Isabel would make the effort to try to decode it.

Owen wasn't sure who was on Isabel's team, but he knew she had one. He'd been inside her cottage and had seen evidence of more than one person. Add to that, he'd overheard her comment to somebody about not wanting him to recognize
the two of you
. It had been a short leap to realize someone would search his room that night while he was with her. Even though he would have done the same, the implication hurt. Isabel didn't trust him.

The more Isabel distrusted him, the harder it became to trust her. And he wanted to trust her. More than he should admit.

People could change. The shy girl he'd once known was gone. Her parents' actions and punishment, not to mention her subsequent indentured service to the War Department, had seen to that.

Owen had witnessed too much evil in the world that resulted from the broken and twisted souls of people who had been wronged in some way and had allowed their hurt to turn into bitterness and hatred. Despite her smile, Isabel sported a brittle edge. She'd traveled that path at some point. The question remained — was she still on it?

****

The next evening, Hank quietly handed Owen another letter, and Owen slipped away to his room. True, Tobias had given up on sending letters in triplicate form, but he hadn't given up on secrecy altogether.

To Owen's surprise, once decoded, the letter confirmed everything Isabel had told him about her parents.

Q's parents found guilty of treason and executed. Plots involved London Docks and Battle of Trafalgar. Remaining family denied her, and M put her to work in WD.

Dissatisfaction deepened Owen's frown, but he kept reading. He hoped to find the physical description of Queen he'd requested. He scanned down his decoding notes until he came to it.

Q is taller than average man, brown eyes, black hair. Could pass for a man.

Isabel was anything but masculine. So either this letter was factual and Isabel lied about being Queen, or the letter was false and everything Isabel told him about her parents had been a lie.

Owen gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue working. He turned the letter sideways and pulled his candle close. As the heat from the flame warmed the paper, a new coded message appeared, fitted between those lines of the letter that had been written with standard ink.

****

Owen knew he had to leave, but he decided to wait a day. He needed to do some scouting first. As he wandered the city of Bristol and its outlying areas, he found what he believed to be Isabel's cottage. Certainty proved elusive. After all, he'd been unconscious the first time she'd brought him there. Since then, each time coming and going had been after dark and following a different route. Nonetheless, he decided to settle in and watch for a while.

A woman came and went, but she wore a cloak and kept her face hidden. A man lurked nearby at one point, but the sun backlit him enough that Owen couldn't get a clear view. He did, however, get an impression of intimidating bulk. Even if it was her home, Isabel wasn't going to show up. She would be working all day at the inn.

Owen's upcoming actions weighed heavily on him. He knew what he needed to do, but he also understood how it would look to Isabel.

That evening, as he returned to the inn and took a seat to await his dinner, Owen eyed Isabel — called Iola here — as she went from table to table making sure people had their meals and drink. Hank had finally seen fit to hire a lad from town to help wash dishes, so Isabel didn't have to do that, as well. Her fake red curls bounced as she moved. She smiled at all the patrons, but the smile didn't often reach her eyes. People didn't pay her much heed, though. Isabel did a good job of being entirely too
average
. Nobody saw her.

She was one of the best agents — if not
the
best — Owen had seen at this kind of work. Owen had little doubt she'd be able to blend in on a ballroom dance floor with the same ease she'd shown at the Rutherfords' and at the tavern.

A short time later, Isabel set his plate down. Smudges under her eyes told him she hadn't been sleeping well. She was probably losing sleep trying to decipher the nonsense letter. Guilt tugged at him.

She leaned close for the merest flash of a second. "Brown Coat arrived today from America."

Owen didn't look at her but nodded his acknowledgement. Once Isabel left his table, he ate his meal and let his eyes wander the room. The brown-coated man was louder than his compatriots, his movements exaggerated. Either he was inebriated, or… American.

A smile tugged at the corner of Owen's mouth as he finished his meal. Americans were interesting to watch. He'd not met many, but he always walked away confounded whenever he did. He opted not to talk to this one… at least not yet. He couldn't help but overhear the name of the man's ship —
The Glib Gull
— or his name — Ezra Walker. Owen would seek out his ship before it left dock and ask if anyone had news of the
Âne Hurlants.

Once back in his room, Owen packed a couple of necessary items into his satchel before sitting down on his bed. He pulled out the letter he'd been carrying around in his jacket pocket all day and turned it over in his hands. He read over it one more time before closing his eyes in silent prayer.

Please, Lord, don't make Isabel my enemy.

Owen rubbed at his bleary eyes. It was too early for man or beast to be up and about, but he needed to slip out before anyone noticed him. His step was brisk as he made his way to the livery. He'd read over the letter enough times to be able to quote it practically verbatim. He mulled the words over yet again as he was on his way to collect
Despiadado
.

At last sighting, Q was short. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Master of disguise.

Sent to America after someone in team betrayed WD. Complicated.

I don't know if she can be trusted, but WD wronged her. Help her complete mission as long as she's not putting anyone in danger.

Last message contained public and Q's understanding of events. It's her truth, but not the whole truth.

Report to CM immediately. J has answers, but be prepared to regret having asked the questions.

Protect her with your life.

The letter had left Owen with more questions than answers, something he didn't appreciate in the least. Tobias was ordering him to leave Bristol — and Queen — while simultaneously telling him to protect her with his life. Owen had never enjoyed half answers or intentionally vague responses, and Tobias knew that. What the deuce was he thinking?

By the time Owen reached the livery, the sun still had not risen in the sky. He woke the livery owner, collected
Despiadado
, and left Bristol behind, hoping the note he'd left for Isabel would be enough. The racing of his heart, though, told him of his folly. He was letting her down by disappearing, and he knew it. Any doubt she'd had about him would be confirmed. For the first time that he could remember, the dishonesty inherent in his job tore at him. The very thing he'd always justified as being for
the greater good
now made him feel less like the man he wanted to be and more like the men and women he sought to bring to justice.

He was going to Chakal Manor, and if Jackal — otherwise known as Rupert — didn't have the answers he wanted, he'd go to London and confront Tobias himself.

In all the years he'd worked for Tobias, Owen had never received an unclear communication. Others might not understand some of the cryptic phraseology, but he'd always been able to decipher what he was being told. Anger burned in his veins at the thought of being sent a nonsense directive. Whatever game Tobias was playing with him, Owen intended to win.

****

A hard day's ride brought Owen to Chakal Manor late that evening. He jumped off
Despiadado
and handed his reins to the stable boy. "He's worked hard. Treat him well."

The lad nodded. "Yes'r."

Owen took a deep breath before he started toward the manor. If the stable boy's wide eyes were any indication, he either looked a fright or as if he planned to slay a dragon. Both might be true.

The front door opened as Owen approached. "Welcome, Mr. Loring. I've notified Lord Mendax of your presence. He should be along shortly."

Owen followed the butler to Rupert's study.

"Would you care for any refreshment?"

About to shake his head, Owen thought better of rejecting the offer. "I'm famished. Anything you have on hand is fine."

The butler offered a small nod before slipping from the room.

Not more than five minutes later, Rupert stepped in, a housekeeper on his heels. She carried a tray of bread, cheese, meat, cookies, and some sort of fruit compote.

Rupert nodded to a table by the window, and the housekeeper set the tray down.

As soon as she left, Rupert turned to him. "I'm not happy to be in the middle of this, but you had no idea what you were getting into. Unless, of course, you were aware Queen was in the area?"

Owen shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "You don't sound pleased she's back."

Rupert sat down in a comfortable-looking chair away from the table. "I'm pleased she's back, but I do find I'm less than enthusiastic about having my family unexpectedly caught in the middle of the drama currently unfolding. In fact, I sent Juliana and the girls off to London for a visit. I'll be leaving to join them in two days' time. That, however, is not Queen's fault."

This gave Owen pause. Rupert wouldn't be leaving Chakal Manor purely because Owen had been ordered there for a visit. His family wouldn't be in the middle of anything unless… "Where is he?"

"He'll be along shortly. I want your word nothing will get broken and no blood will be spilled in my study."

The bit of food he'd eaten managed to turn sour in Owen's stomach. "Am I going to be angry at what he says?"

Rupert picked at lint on his pants. Owen didn't like what he saw in the older man's eyes. "You're going to be livid, but not for the reasons you think. You won't know what to do with your anger, either, so I'm telling you now — remember your training."

Owen carefully set down his cup of tea. "Maintain control."

Tobias stepped into the room then, and Owen stared. The man was haggard, not a look he'd ever publicly sported to Owen's knowledge.

Owen kept his seat, and Tobias frowned, his mouth pulling down deeply at the corners. "I didn't give Rupert a choice about this, so if you're going to be angry about this ambush, let it be at me, not him."

"At least we're in agreement on that front."

Tobias didn't look as though he intended to sit. He began pacing the room. Owen's irritation escalated until Tobias at last rounded to face him. "When I return to London, I may not have a job waiting for me. I'm here against the express orders of Parliament. You've been declared perfidious and ordered brought in by any agent that finds you."

"This must be important, then, for you to put your career at risk." Owen was under no illusion. Tobias wouldn't take any chances with his own career simply to help an agent who'd broken the rules. He wouldn't go to those lengths unless a greater purpose demanded it. Above all things, Tobias was a master strategist. It was part of what made him so perfect for the job he held, and Parliament had to know it.

"Queen's life was ruined when she was twelve. It wasn't your doing, but you'd have blamed yourself for it. Which is why I never told you the whole story, and why I believe you were shunned the first time you sought employment with the War Department."

Tobias reached for a decanter, picked it up, set it down, lifted the next one, and set it back down. "Have you no drink in this house, Rupert?"

A sad smile tugging up the corner of one side of his mouth, Rupert answered him. "A strong cup of tea, perhaps?"

Tobias grimaced and resumed his pacing. "Before Queen came to be, her name was Isabel Thorpe, and her parents were set up to take the blame for crimes committed by her father's business partner."

Owen jumped from his chair, and it took a hard stare from Rupert to prevent him from dashing across the room and sinking his fist into Tobias' face. Calling on every ounce of self-control he had, Owen returned to his seat. His hands, loosely folded in his lap, were a complete contrast to the seething rage he felt inside.

"My father was Mr. Thorpe's business partner."

Tobias nodded. "The evidence I collected says your father committed treason. He knew the danger, and rather than put his name at risk, he used the business name to conduct all transactions. Then he left a trail of bread crumbs that led straight to Mr. Thorpe."

"The Thorpes were executed for crimes they didn't commit." Much as he tried to repeat back everything Tobias had said, Owen was unable to give voice to the accusations against his father. The words froze in his throat, choking him.

Regret in his eyes, Tobias nodded. "The minister pressed Isabel into work with the War Department — against my express wishes — and Queen was born."

"Why didn't you want her?"

"She was a child of twelve who had been sheltered her entire life. The minister used her grief against her to manipulate her into doing his wishes." Tobias made a fist and made to slam it down onto the credenza until Rupert cleared his throat rather forcefully. The director's hand relaxed, but his pupils remained dilated with the intensity of his feelings.

Owen swallowed. He would deal with the accusations against his father later. Right now he needed to understand what was going on with Isabel.

"Why was the minister so insistent?"

Tobias shrugged. "I wish I knew. He never gave me a satisfying answer. I went through his papers after his death but didn't come across anything substantial."

"If he had a reason, there would be a money trail." Owen had done this too long not to be certain.

"Owen, you're my best agent for investigating financial records, but I don't think you can be objective here."

"Personal involvement aside, the natural conclusion is that the minister forced Isabel into work for the War Department in order to keep an eye on her and protect himself."

Rupert sat up straight and considered Tobias. "The minister's son became a traitor, and while we sought him, we found ourselves looking at the minister far too many times. What if he was more involved with Lysander's illegal activities than we ever realized?"

Tobias shook his head. "We can't make those kinds of guesses. Besides, Lysander was too young at the time of the Thorpes’ execution."

Owen jumped to his feet and started pacing. "The minister wasn't. Maybe Lysander followed in the family business?"

The frown on Tobias' face deepened until the lines in the folds of his skin became deep grooves. "You want to clear your father's name."

Owen swiped his hand through the air. "We'll discuss your accusations later. This is about Isabel. Did the minister push her into the War Department so he could watch her? So he could protect himself?"

Tobias nodded, blinking slowly. "It's possible."

Regaining his seat, Owen said, "Very well. Let's assume that's the case for now. I can look at the minister's financial records later — assuming you'll give me access?"

His eyes dark and grim, Tobias nodded.

Owen crossed his arms and asked, "What else do I need to know about the woman we call Queen?"

Rupert spoke up next. "She had three attempts on her life while on her first assignment."

So much for not getting carried away with his emotions. Owen rose to his feet, legs spread apart, voice deep with the battle between anger and fear. "What did you say?"

Rupert waved Owen back into his seat. "After Tobias said we had no choice, I decided to train young Isabel so she'd be able to defend herself if it ever came to that. The queen's court can be ruthless. Be it a jealous maiden or a randy courtier, I didn't want to take chances with our girl's safety. I also snuck in occasionally under cover of night to check on her and make sure she was doing all right."

Owen blinked, his mind racing. He hadn't been with the War Department at the time. If he had… He hadn't been much more than a child himself when these events had occurred, but he'd have found a way to stop them. "Three attacks?"

His lips in a grim line, Rupert answered. "She fended them all off herself, but you know the likelihood. Three is too many."

Owen slammed his hand down on the table.

Rupert grimaced. "The last one talked more than the others. He made no secret of the fact he'd been hired to kill her."

Owen sat back in his chair again. "Why would anyone want to kill her? Unless…" His eyes shifted to Tobias, who nodded, his countenance as foreboding as Owen had ever seen.

Tobias began to pace the room. "She knew something worth killing to keep quiet. The problem is, she never figured out what. So perhaps it was the fear of her knowing something. That, of course, leads back to her parents. Her life held nothing of note up to that point. I believe she had access to some sort of proof about her parents' innocence but was too young and frightened to realize it."

With a grunt, Tobias mumbled, "You need to reconsider allowing spirits in your house, Rupert." Then he continued walking through the room as he said, "The minute I began to question why someone would want her dead, I reopened the investigation into her parents. Everything led me to your father, Owen. Sorry as I am to say it, I'm sure it's even harder for you to hear."

"My father has never been arrested. If he committed treason as you say, why is he still a free man? The Thorpes were summarily executed on nothing more than the suspicion of treason."

"First, let me say we had more than mere suspicion with the Thorpes. Documents were provided. Evidence existed. Their execution fell outside the purview of the War Department, though. It was handled elsewhere. I didn't learn about it until the minister insisted we put the girl to work. After the attempts on her life, I began to question the motivation behind the order to place her in the queen's court. Which is precisely what led me to start my own investigation."

"You decided my father was guilty of treason and did nothing about it. Why?" Owen tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. His father was a good man, kind father, and loving husband. Owen couldn't beat back the tremor of fear in his veins, though, as the thought shook him.
So was Isabel's father.

"Stop interrupting, Owen, and let me finish." Tobias stared him down before continuing. "My investigation led me to Mr. Loring, but as plainly as the evidence had been laid out that led to the execution of Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe, so too had the evidence implicating Mr. Loring. So I decided not to take action. I waited and watched. Mr. Loring met with the minister several times over a period of three or four months. The last meeting they had together was explosive. I almost thought Mr. Loring might try to kill the minister. The minister left that meeting with a bruised jaw. Mr. Loring was physically unharmed, but as soon as he thought he was alone, he covered his face and wept. He may have been guilty of treason, but he was no cold-hearted criminal."

"Did you hear any of what they argued about?" Owen sat on the edge of his seat trying to catch every word Tobias uttered.

Tobias rubbed his jaw before meeting Owen's gaze. "'You touch Owen, and I'll kill you.'"