Queen (Regency Refuge 3) (20 page)

Three Months Later

"Something came for you in the post today. Two things, actually."

Isabel peeked up to see Owen entering the sitting room. Maggie was trying to teach her to sew, but Isabel was hopeless. Any chance to get away without hurting her friend's feelings would be welcome. "Oh?"

Owen nodded. "This one's from Parliament." He held a note out to her.

Isabel broke the seal with trembling hands. She'd tried not to think about it, and she'd decided she would be fine either way, but she desperately wanted her parents' names cleared.

Owen read the letter out loud over her shoulder as she studied the single sheet of paper.

"It is the conclusion of this body of Parliament that Ian and Henrietta Thorpe did not conspire against their country. They are innocent of wrongdoing in the eyes of their king, their government, and their fellow citizens. A public announcement will be made forthwith…"

The remainder of the letter was filled with official jargon for which Isabel had no use. She hugged the letter to her chest and sighed.

Owen tugged her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. "I know it doesn't change anything that's happened, but I'm happy the record has been set straight."

Isabel blinked back her tears and smiled at her husband. "Thank you," she whispered. Then, her voice stronger, she reached for the other missive he held. "So what of my other letter? Does that contain even better news?"

He studied it for a moment. "I don't recognize the handwriting on this one. Should I be worried?"

Isabel chuckled. "Have we been wed so long, husband, that you managed to memorize the handwriting of every person who might ever have need to write me?"

Owen held the letter out of her reach. "You will pay for such insolent behavior, dear wife."

She chuckled. "What did you have in mind? Shall I be forced to darn all your socks?"

Owen winced. Her last attempt at darning socks hadn't gone so well. Not even Maggie had been able to fix the damage. "A kiss, I think."

Isabel batted her lashes and moved in close as if she planned to kiss him. Then she lunged for the letter, tugged it from his hand, and danced away.

"Is that how it shall be for the rest of our married life? I say one thing, and you do the opposite?"

"Not at all. I'll almost always do what you say." She again sashayed in close and this time gave him a kiss. As she moved back out of the circle of his reach, she added, "Just not in the way you expect."

"Of course not," Owen answered. "Heaven forbid we do anything ordinary or predictable."

Isabel grinned at him as she broke the seal on the letter. Her smile faded as she read.

"What is it?"

She looked up. "It's from Phineas. He's asking for help."

Owen whistled softly. "Why do I have the feeling this is related to Lady Rutherford's death?"

Isabel glanced up from the letter again. "I was there when Tobias told you about it. An unidentified man publicly confronted her with claims that a witness saw her push Lord Rutherford to his death."

"And the next day she was found dead in her bedchamber." Owen's voice was hesitant, the words forming a statement while his voice asked a question.

With a brisk nod, Isabel met her husband's gaze. "We still don't know why she showed up at the
Âne Hurlants
. Was she responsible for the gold and bribery? Is there any proof she killed her husband? We need to help. If Tobias is right, Phineas has no one else to whom he can turn, and I don't believe for a minute that he murdered that odious woman. Besides, what if he's learned something about who the traitor is in Parliament? We have to do this."

Her husband didn't bat an eye. He didn't ask if she was certain. Neither did he question what they were getting themselves into. "Then we'll help." Owen pivoted to face the other woman in the sitting room. "Maggie, tell Red to be ready within the hour."

Isabel watched as her friend dropped her sewing and left the room. Then she spun to her husband. "You want them to come, too?"

"We're a team now, right? We're in this together, all of us."

Isabel's heart burst. She'd known for ages that she loved Owen. There had never been a question of what she'd say when he finally asked her to marry him. But this — this was beyond all she'd hoped for in her most fanciful daydreams. He might not always know what to do with Red and Maggie, but he'd welcomed them into his home and heart. She couldn't have asked for a better husband.

Red picked that moment to come running into the room. "Mags said we have a mission?"

Isabel twisted around to look at him, blinking back the sentimental weepy tears. "We got word from Phineas. He needs us."

A smile split across Red's face. "I'll get my gear." He left the room as abruptly as he'd arrived. If Isabel knew her friend at all, his
gear
would include an array of weaponry hidden on his person.

Owen stepped in front of her and tilted her chin up with a single finger. "You should change, too. Make sure you've got at least one knife and one gun on you somewhere."

"Only one? Tsk, tsk. You apparently don't know me well at all."

Owen captured her lips with his own. After he stepped back, he inspected her with serious eyes. "I don't promise not to overreact or become protective. You should know in advance."

She nodded. "I might demand you not take unnecessary risks from time to time."

"As long as we understand each other."

Isabel tangled her fingers in Owen's cravat and pulled him closer. "I love you, Mr. Librarian."

He winced at the name but offered little resistance to the tug on his neckcloth. "No more than I love you, wife." His lips met hers, and the rest of the world and its problems faded away.

A gruff voice at the door interrupted them. "Is this how you plan for missions now?"

Red stood there, shifting from foot to foot.

Isabel couldn't help but smile at the man's discomfort. "I thought you were getting ready."

"Maggie wants to know where we're going."

"Devon."

Red whirled away, and they could soon hear his steps as he made his way back up the stairs.

"Come along, wife. Red's correct. We've work to do." Owen held out a hand to her, and Isabel took it.

They left the sitting room hand-in-hand, and Isabel couldn't imagine a better way to face the rest of her life. "You're a special man, Owen Loring."

His lips captured hers again as they got to the bottom of the stairs. "Ah, Isabel, you may think me special, but you… You are spectacular. And you're mine. My very own Queen."

Heather Gray
authors the Ladies of Larkspur inspirational western romance series, including
Mail Order Man
,
Just Dessert
, and
Redemption
. She also writes the Regency Refuge series:
His Saving Grace, Jackal
, and
Queen
- plus contemporary titles
Ten Million Reasons
and
Nowhere for Christmas
. Aside from a long-standing love affair with coffee, Heather’s greatest joys are her relationships with her Savior and family. She also enjoys laughter. This theme is prevalent in Heather's writing where, through the highs and lows, her characters find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her.

You can find Heather online at
http://www.facebook.com/heathergraywriting
,
http://www.twitter.com/laughdreamwrite
, and
http://www.heathergraywriting.com
.