Heart of Brass by Kate Cross Read Free Book Online Page B

of age. Her parents had held hope of her finding a husband that Season. She was reported to be a spirited girl with a pleasant personality, liked by all who knew her.
    The only thing that could have made the tale more tragic would have been if she were an only child. However, Lynbourne and his wife had other children to help them through their terrible grief. Their lives would never be the same, regardless. That was why it was called “loss,” after all.
    Arden wasn’t acquainted with the baron and baroness, at least not closely. Of course they had been introduced once upon a time, and often were invited to the same events, but that was the extent of their familiarity. Still, she ordered an arrangement of white calla lilies to be sent round to them, along with a card expressing her condolences.
    That was all she could do. Her loyalty to the Crown prohibited her from approaching them on a more intimate level, but even if it did not, she would hardly open a dialogue with the grieving parents. What would she tell them, that she had seen their daughter’s mutilated corpse? That she had seen the moments of her death? These were not the details that comforted the distraught, and they would serve no purpose but to cause them more pain.
    But she sent flowers because she was no stranger to loss, or to grief.
    Three days had passed since she’d awoken to find Luke in her bedroom, and she was beginning to wonder if he had indeed been a dream, or some grand figment of her imagination.
    There was no way she could have imagined his touch—or the ruination of the French doors. No, he was very real.
    Was it true what Zoe surmised? Had he been sent by the Company to assassinate her? It seemed too fantastical to believe, but it was just probable enough to tighten her chest. It explained why she’d woken to his hands around her neck, and why he had run. It also explained why he didn’t know her.
    What in the name of God had those villainous bastards done to her husband?
    Tears burned the backs of her eyes, clutched at her throat, but she held them at bay. She would not cry. Tears were the refuge of the hopeless and the helpless, and she was neither.
    It was odd that she turned to friends within the Wardens for strength and assistance, when it had been Luke who brought her into that world. Of course, growing up as she had and aiding her father in his work, she had seen some of it, but it wasn’t until her marriage that she slowly began to insert herself into that life of intrigue and danger. Becoming a full agent after his disappearance had been just another way to hold on to him—look for him. Who would have thought that it would become such a large, defining part of her? She had purpose. More important, she had a distraction.
    Arden knew Luke would be back for her—felt it in her bones. She had neglected to tell Zoe that, however. No doubt her friend suspected it as well. She probably wondered if Luke was a traitor not only to his wife but to his country. Arden had to admit the terrible thought had crossed her mind.
    It was time to get out of the house and stop dwelling. This sitting about feeling sorry for herself would not do any more good than feeling helpless would.
    Three of the garments she had ordered from Zoe had been delivered the day before—God bless automaton sewing skills! Arden went to her room and summoned Annie to help her dress in a suitable costume for going out.
    Opening the armoire, she made her selection of clothing, placed the hanger in the slender compartment to the left, then closed the door and pushed the button on the side of the wardrobe. The heavy oak trembled slightly as the small engine within chugged to life. Soon, she heard the familiar sound of boiling water whooshing through pipes and the gentle hiss of steam—the remnants of which drifted from the copper pipe on top. The entire process lasted perhaps a minute before shutting down. Arden waited another minute before she opened the door once