Queen (Regency Refuge 3) by Heather Gray Read Free Book Online

the hood and snugged the cloak around her body, she took Owen's hand and tugged it. He followed her without complaint.
    When they reached the small cottage she called home in Bristol, she pushed open the door and reached for a candle. Then she took the small tinderbox and started a fire in the hearth. Small as it was, the room warmed quickly. The glow cast by the fire pushed most of the shadows away.
    At Isabel's insistence, Owen took a seat in the room's one chair, at the table. Isabel sat on the sleeping pallet and tucked her feet close. "Tell me what you've learned."
    "One of Rutherford's other ships came into port today." Owen's eyes wandered the room, no doubt seeking clues about her. "They had word on the Âne Hurlants . It'll make port sometime in December."
    Isabel nodded. "That's good to know. We need to bide our time until then. Unless you've a different idea?"
    Owen jumped up and began to pace in the confines of the small room. "We've exchanged little more than occasional words in the past week, and I'm not sure I know you any better now than I did upon first learning your identity."
    Isabel gave an impatient and entirely unladylike snort. "What has that to do with anything?"
    "I want to trust you, but I don't even know you."
    She winked. "You knew me when I was in nappies. That must count for something."
    Owen ignored her attempt at humor and ran a hand through his flaxen curls. "More than ten years have passed since you disappeared, and I still have no idea where you went. Or your parents. Are they still living? How are they doing?"
    Isabel considered her options. She needed Owen to trust her. He would be more open with her if he did. She needed to give him a morsel, something to keep him satisfied. If he thought he had the whole story, all the better.
    "My parents were executed."

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Owen rocked back on his feet. Isabel's words crashed over him like an ocean wave roaring in his ears. He had to force the air from his lungs to ask the question burning in his gut. "Why?"
    Isabel offered a small, sad smile. "Treason against the Crown. Evidence says they were complicit with the French."
    "But that can't be. They were loyal. Our fathers ran a business together. How… How were they found out?"
    Another wretched smile, this one apologetic in nature. "Someone delivered them up, of course. How else does one get caught for treason? Well, aside from being discovered by the agency."
    Owen did something a gentleman would never do. He turned the chair around and straddled it. In an attempt to keep himself from going to her, he folded his arms and rested them on the chair's back. He wanted to go to her. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to hold her and take away her pain, but he hadn't yet earned the privilege. Not to mention she was so blasted strong and independent, she'd not welcome even a hint of support from him. The strength of his own reaction to her took him by surprise.
    "Issy, I'm so sorry." The childhood nickname rolled off his tongue and Isabel — brave, defiant, capable Isabel — transformed before his eyes into the young girl he'd last seen before she and her family had disappeared. All the sharp edges and angles of her face softened until she was almost… inviting.
    Then, as if she realized her behavior went against protocol, Isabel sat taller. The softness fell away, and her blue eyes narrowed until Queen sat before him once again.
    "If they were truly traitors, they got what they had coming to them."
    Owen had a hard time accepting such a callous sentiment. No matter what Isabel said, he didn't believe for a minute she was as cold-hearted as she seemed to want him to believe.
    "What happened to you after…?"
    Isabel shrugged. "The minister, God rest his soul, took an interest in me. He told me I had a chance to prove I wasn't my parents' daughter, a traitor."
    "You were only twelve!" Owen jumped up again and went back to pacing. "He recruited you to the War Department while you