Queen (Regency Refuge 3) (14 page)

"We're doomed." Owen's morose look would be comical if he weren't so sincere.

"What mean you? We've not even begun."

He ran a hand through his blond curls — a reflection of his distress. "I met with the agent Parliament demanded I work with."

"And? Will he be of help to us?"

Owen growled and began pacing the small abandoned shed he and Isabel had been using for their meetings. "Working with him is going to be a trial. I might shoot him just to be done with it so we can complete the mission in peace."

Isabel bit back a chuckle and watched as Owen continued to stomp to and fro across the aged boards. "I see. What about him did you not care for?"

"I wanted to talk about the mission. He wanted to discuss fashion. I told him we had everything covered at the ship. He insisted on accompanying us to give us 'an air of legitimacy'. I tried to leave. He ordered more crumpets and tea."

Owen heaved a sigh with enough force to send dust motes dancing in what little moonlight made it into the shed. "Then he wanted to discuss some scandal he'd read about in the paper. I'm not even sure he was a man! What men talk about fashion and scandal while eating crumpets?"

Isabel no longer tried to hold in her laughter. "He must have at least one good quality?"

Owen stopped pacing and fell back onto the crate serving as his seat. "I'd rather eat nails than spend another hour in that man's presence."

Isabel returned to the reason Owen had gone to see the man in the first place. "He's going to be coming on the mission with us. Does that mean on the ship?"

He answered with a miserable nod.

"Will I still be Giselda Fairweather?"

"You're to be Giselda. He's going to be a family friend who insisted on escorting you to the filthy docks, and I'm to be the groveling servant present to do your bidding and see to your every whim."

Isabel snorted. "Groveling? That doesn't suit you."

Owen's eyelids dropped to half-mast as he watched her. The earlier whine gone from his voice, he said, "It's a good plan, and I like the idea of the extra protection his presence will afford, but I'm afraid if we get into a tight spot he'll turn into a ninny, and we'll end up protecting him. We need to rethink this. It's not going to be safe enough for you."

Isabel closed her eyes and savored the moment. Owen was more concerned with her safety than with the job they had to do. Intentional or not, the man was seducing her as certainly as the moon was suspended in the sky. She tried to tuck the emotions he evoked aside, but her voice still held a tremor. "We'll be fine. I'll be safe, and we won't let this other agent die, either. What's his name anyway?"

"Phineas Kitteridge." Owen spat the words without thought into the darkness of the room, but Isabel reeled from the blow.

"What did you say?" Her voice held a tremor again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

"Phineas Kitteridge."

"Describe him to me."

"Tall, so slender a brisk wind would topple him, blond." Owen's voice held a hint of impatience.

Isabel fisted her hands in her lap and forced herself to remain seated even though she wanted to jump up and run as far and fast as her legs would carry her. Owen's eyes were on her, and she refused to give in to the terror clawing at her throat. "What's the plan, then?"

A pregnant pause settled in the room before Owen spoke. The silence was filled with question, but she ignored it and waited for his words. "The morning after next Giselda Fairwather and Oscar Lanford will arrive at Hotel Belafort to meet Phineas Kitteridge. He'll have already lined up an appropriately elegant carriage, and we'll all ride down to the docks together to await the arrival of the
Âne Hurlants
. As soon as the gangplank is down, we'll board, see to our business, and be gone before anyone's the wiser."

"And if something goes wrong?"

"I already have papers giving me authority to access the cargo on behalf of the Rutherford family. Those will serve as the fallback plan. Kitteridge says he'll have papers for Giselda. Other than that, be well armed and prepared to improvise."

Isabel nodded. "Always."

Before she'd even registered movement, Owen stood in front of her and drew her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She found her head tucked against his shoulder as one of his hands rubbed her back in slow circles.

"It'll work itself out, whatever has you upset."

It wouldn't, but she kept that to herself. "It's nice of you to say." Her words were muffled against his chest. A short time ago she would have reveled at being close enough to feel the texture of his waistcoat and hear the beat of his heart. She would have reached her arms up to encircle his waist and hold him equally close, no matter how scandalous.

But then he'd said that name.

Now her hands rested against his chest, still fisted with more emotions than words could ever hold.

Owen's lips brushed her temple, and she closed her eyes, fighting tears.
Why does he have to be so kind? The kind ones always die too young.

"You were fine until I said his name. Who is Phineas Kitteridge?"

Isabel stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Owen's. Part of her hoped to distract him, and part of her wanted to savor the taste of him one more time. Once he knew the whole story, she feared, he might never want to hold her in his arms again.

As soon as her lips touched his, a wave of heat swept her sensible nature away.

Owen leaned into the kiss, and his lips moved over hers. He smelled of soap and wood smoke. His hands cupped her shoulders, then one moved up to tangle in her hair while the other slid down until it splayed against her lower back. Sizzling heat radiated out from where his hand rested.

Isabel's hands unclenched of their own volition and slid up Owen's chest. She stepped closer though no room was left for even air between them.

Owen obliged her, deepening the kiss until Isabel's mind was emptied of reality, missions, and agents. Only Owen remained. There was only room for Owen.

A groan filled the room, and Isabel had no notion whether it was her or Owen who made the sound.

Yet it was enough to break the seductive spell. Isabel drew back from the kiss and used her shaky legs to put distance between her and Owen. She touched her swollen lips with the fingers of her right hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't know…"

Owen nodded before turning his back on her. He took the three steps needed to bring him to the room's outer wall. A swift pivot and step, and he once again faced her, his back firmly planted against the structure. "I'd say we both share the fault for how far that went, but being the gentleman, I ought to take the blame for it."

She gave him a small smile before sitting back down on her crate. "I think I'm supposed to be ashamed of such wanton behavior."

The words had no sooner left her mouth than Owen was in front of her, kneeling, her hands in his. "No, Issy. Not that. It's the wrong place and the wrong time, and that sort of kissing shouldn't happen until two people are properly wed, aye. We went about it the wrong way, but it's not a bad thing, not shameful. I shan't let it happen again. You have my word. I'll keep my distance until all this is behind us and I can call on you the way a gentleman would. But don't feel shame. Please don't." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch so tender it made her heart ache all the more.

"Very well, Owen. I won't feel ashamed. But I won't let you take all the blame for it, either."

Owen backed away again, taking up his former position against the wall. "Are you going to tell me now what you thought to avoid by kissing me?" His voice held his smile, and she accepted it as the precious gift it was.

"How were you told to meet Phineas? Did it come from Tobias or Jackal?"

"No. The directions for the meet were written down and handed to me in the committee meeting. I was told to commit the information to memory then burn the paper, which I did before I ever walked out the door."

Isabel worried her lower lip even as she sat up straight and prepared to tell him why she'd been exiled to America.

"Phineas Kitteridge is the agent I killed."

Owen's shocked intake of breath filled the room.

Isabel didn't wait for him to speak. His words would change nothing. She sat motionless on her crate, clenched her hands in her lap, and began.

"After my time in the Queen's court, Tobias thought it best to put me in a team." Her voice quavered, and she steeled herself against the painful memories.

"We became a family of sorts. Granted, I think they all saw me as a bothersome younger sister, but we worked well together. Each of us had our own strengths and weaknesses, but as a team we became unstoppable. Above all, we looked out for each other. We took care of one another. Our captain was Phineas Kitteridge."

Owen kept still, his arms crossed and his eyes watchful. Tension radiated from him. The muscles in his neck were corded with it. Despite the strain in his stance, she saw trust in his eyes, and it became too much to bear. The memories washed over her one after another.

****

Tobias said the team had a traitor. But he hadn't gone to Phineas. He'd gone to Isabel. Why? Why did he want her to investigate? Shouldn't he suspect her, too?

Her last meeting with Tobias ate at Isabel. In the month since, she'd found no evidence of a traitor. Sure, their last couple of assignments hadn't gone quite as planned, but they'd come out unscathed, and they'd more or less gotten what they'd needed. She would have wondered but not given it too much thought if Tobias hadn't planted that niggling doubt in her mind.

The team was together, decompressing after a perilous mission that had come close to costing Red his life, and Red was rightfully angry. Livid might be a better word.

"Why did you wait so long? You
knew
my hiding place had been compromised, but you said nothing!" Red raged at Phineas.

Phineas kept a stoic expression. "It wasn't intentional. Come on. You know me. If it was possible, I would have been there."

"Explain where you were, then." This from Star.

"Queen needed extraction." Phineas' voice was reasonable.

"I don't believe you. I had my eyes on Queen the whole time. She was fine, and you never went near her." Robert's voice was dead calm, and Queen knew trouble was coming.

Robert drew his pistol and pointed it at Phineas. The rest of the team stood by in shock.

"Calm down, Robert. We're angry about the mission, but that's no reason to…"

Red's words were cut off as Phineas fired his own weapon, shooting Robert in the throat. All their eyes had been trained on Robert. None of them had seen Phineas pull a weapon. He had his second gun at the ready, too. Star and Red drew their pistols, but Phineas dropped Star before a shot could be fired. Then he flung his knife at Red. Red got a shot off, but Phineas' lightning quick movements — something they'd always been thankful for on the team — worked against them. Red winged Phineas but not before the knife sank into his chest.

Queen had her gun at the ready. The horror of seeing her newfound family splintered and her dearest friends slaughtered before her eyes made her hands clumsy. She pointed the weapon at Phineas.

"Come on, Queen. Join me. You and I would be unstoppable."

"Phineas. Why? How long? How could you kill them? They're your friends."

He shook his head and clucked his tongue. "You're darling, you know that? You were the easiest to fool. So willing to trust. So eager for people to like you. So desperate to rebuild a family. You don't think I know Tobias asked you to find the traitor? Yet here we are, and you had no idea until now that I was the one you were looking for. I'll bet you couldn't fathom the idea that someone in your so-called family could be so cold-blooded."

"You'll never get away with this." Queen's voice shook.

"Oh, poor, dear little Queen. I already have. You won't be able to shoot me. You're too busy hoping this is all one big mistake."

He had maneuvered closer to Red. Phineas shifted his hand, and Queen caught sight of the knife. She couldn't allow him to put a final end to Red, but he stood so close to her wounded friend. What if her quaking hands caused the bullet to stray? What if she hit Red instead? She had to try. It was her only hope of saving him. So she fired.

Phineas crumpled to the ground, half sprawled across Red. He hadn't tried to escape the shot because he'd not believed her capable of firing at him.

Queen scurried over to each of her fallen comrades, but it was too late. They were gone. Then she grabbed Phineas under the arms and dragged his body off Red's. It was too late for Phineas, too. She was a better shot than she'd thought.

Red watched her. His breathing was rapid and filled with the sound of liquid. "It's all right, girl. This isn't your fault."

Of course it was her fault. She had been tasked with finding the traitor, and she'd failed. Three people died because she was too trusting.

"Queen, look at me." Red flexed his fingers, and she took his hand, clutching it between her own. His eyes bored into hers. "Phineas did this. Not you. No guilt." Then his eyes slipped closed, and she screamed.

Her screams continued to fill the room seconds later when Tobias burst in, weapon drawn, a flood of agents behind him. Tobias yanked her forcibly away from Red and shoved her aside. She could make no sense of the urgent voices, the demands, the yells.

Queen had no idea how much time had passed, but Tobias picked her up and carried her from the carnage-filled room. The smell of blood chased them, permeating the air as they went, and she realized she wore it. Her dress was soaked in the blood of her team. It must have happened while she'd checked them for life. An exercise in futility if ever there'd been one.

Tobias laid her down, and people hovered. She closed her eyes and wished for death.

A hard shake snapped her eyes open. Darkness had fallen. Someone had removed the bloody dress from her. She lay on a couch in Tobias' office in nothing but her chemise with a heavy blanket over her. "Leave me be."

"He's calling for you."

"I want to die."

"I can't let you, Queen."

"I have nothing left to give. Leave me be."

"Red needs you."

That got her attention. She focused on the face in front of her. "Jackal?"

"Aye, girl, it's me. Red is calling for you. You've got to get dressed and go to him. He's going to injure himself further if you don't hurry."

"He died."

Jackal's voice was urgent. "Badly wounded, not dead, and he needs you. He's yelling at the nurse and trying to get out of bed to come find you. Please. If you value his life, get dressed and let me take you to him."

Adrenaline pulsed through Queen's veins, and she threw the blanket off.

Jackal quickly turned his back. "A dress is draped over the end of the settee."

It had to be a terrible dream. She would wake to find herself still in that room with her team all dead, but a part of her soul refused to give up. Buried deep down within, a piece of her still clung to hope. Queen followed Jackal out the door and raced after him as he hurried down hallways and corridors she'd never seen before. The War Department must have had an entire underground labyrinth at its disposal.

As they got closer, she heard the ruckus. Red was yelling loud enough to make the blue want to leap from the sky and hide itself.

Jackal threw the door open, and she ran through. His face as red as his hair, fighting against the restraints that held both his arms and legs to the bed and scaring every nurse in sight, Red bellowed. "Let me out of here! She's going to think I'm dead! Get me Queen!"

****

Isabel shook her head to clear the vivid scenes from her mind. "I stayed with him, helped nurse him back to health. Tobias sent me to America, and Red went with me. We've been together ever since."

A nap sounded heavenly. The retelling of her tale had left her drained.

Owen's voice conveyed both horror and comfort. "And you checked all the other bodies? You're certain they were dead?"

"Yes. But then, I thought Red was dead, too. I'm not sure my judgment can be trusted."

"Describe Phineas to me."

"Tall, slender, blond hair, patrician nose, big hands. He had musician's hands. His long fingers would easily span an octave on the pianoforte."

"It sounds like him." Owen grunted deep in his throat before adding, "We can't be certain till you come face to face with him. You'll be prepared. What about Red? You said you've been with him ever since?"

Isabel took a deep breath. She hadn't meant to say that part. "Can you pretend I didn't say that?"

Owen gave her a hard look, as if trying to pluck the thoughts from her head. "Are you protecting him or yourself?"

"I've already lost too many people. Please."

Owen nodded and took a step forward, holding out his hand to help her up. "Consider it forgotten, but he was right. You weren't at fault."

"Aye, I was. If I'd been better at my job, Star and Robert would still be with us. My clouded view of my team cost people their lives. I shan't ever make that mistake again."

"Did Tobias ever explain why he sent you away?"

They were about to step out of the shed. Isabel swung back to face Owen. He ought to hear the rest of that story. "The minister decided I was a liability and put an execute-on-sight order out on me. Tobias sent me to America to keep me alive. I didn't know until our recent trip to London. He never told me. All these years I blamed Tobias for exiling me, but in truth, he kept me alive."

Owen squeezed her hand. "The Bible talks about these places called cities of refuge. Have you ever read about them?"

She shook her head.

"Sometimes a man might take another's life in defense of his own life. The dead man's family would seek retribution. So God ordained these cities of refuge — places where people could go to be safe if they'd killed to protect themselves. As long as they stayed inside the walls of the city, no one was permitted to raise a hand against them."

Owen reached out and ran a finger along the line of Isabel's jaw. A shiver coursed through her as she fought the urge to turn her head and kiss his hand.

"Perhaps America was your place of refuge. You did no wrong. You may have killed Phineas, but you did so to protect Red and defend yourself. Now maybe it's safe enough to step outside the city's gates, to embrace the rest of the world again."

Isabel could have stared into Owen's eyes all night. In them she saw all the strength she'd lacked, all the wisdom she wished she'd had years ago, and all the compassion she'd tried to quash from her own heart because she'd seen it as a weakness. She couldn't find the words to say any of the things she felt, or to express the thoughts tramping through her mind. Instead, she spun back to the door and opened it, stepping into the night. "I'll see you morning after next at the Hotel Belafort."

****

Isabel arrived home and stepped through the front door of the cottage she shared with Maggie and Red.

They both waited for her, and as soon as she walked in the door, Red asked, "What did you learn?"

"Whatever is wrong, Queenie? Here, sit down." Maggie, of course, saw the fragility she sought to hide even from her closest companions.

Isabel sat on the floor, leaving the chair for Maggie. "Red, I need you to scout the Hotel Belafort. There's a man staying under the name Phineas Kitteridge."

The name wasn't familiar to Maggie, but Red's eyes narrowed to tiny slits.

"Don't take action. I need to know if the man using the name is the same man who once used it."

Without a word, Red reached for his coat and disappeared through the door.

The sound of wood splintering as it slammed closed behind him filled the small room.