A Wicked Conceit by Anna Huber (e novels to read TXT) 📕

edge of the bed while she bustled about the room, pouring warm water from the ewer she’d brought with her into the basin on my washstand and readying my garments.

“The iris blue satin,” she suggested, laying the gown across the counterpane.

“Yes.” It was next in the rotation of the two ball gowns that still fit me, though in a pinch one of my opera or dinner dresses would do. Crossing to the washstand, I splashed water on my face and then blotted it with a towel as I turned to face Bree. She was feigning absorption with my stockings, but I was not about to let what just transpired pass without remarking on it. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

She frowned at the ribbon on one of my garters. “I suppose you’ll find oot soon enough. Mister Anderley managed to charm Mr. Rookwood’s maid into revealin’ why she was so tight-lipped wi’ me.”

My heart sank. Oh, Anderley, you didn’t? And after Bree made it so clear she didn’t want his interference.

She slammed the drawer of the dresser and marched across the room to arrange the implements to style my hair with sharp, precise movements. “She was only too happy to cry on his shoulder and tell him how sad she was, and how frightened that the murderer’d come after her next.”

I perched on the dressing table bench. “Why would she think that?”

“She says she heard the printer and Mr. Rookwood arguin’ the day before he was murdered when she was cleanin’ the outer office, though she didna ken what aboot.” She scoffed, untying the ribbon securing the bottom of my braid with a tug. “Somethin’ I ken I could o’ convinced her to share tomorrow if’n he’d kept his nose oot o’ it like I asked.”

I didn’t dispute this, for I knew well how Bree’s warmth and empathy could convince one to confide in her. After all, it had worked on me, and I had never regretted it. Though I was beginning to regret the romance which had blossomed between her and my husband’s valet, for it was upsetting the balance and easy camaraderie our investigative team had enjoyed since my marriage to Gage. Not that I begrudged either of them finding such happiness, but as it currently stood, their relationship was far from blissful.

“Has Anderley informed Mr. Gage?” I asked as she pulled the brush through my hair, making it crackle.

“Aye. That’s how I found oot.”

Gage had often counseled me not to insinuate myself into our servants’ personal lives, but I couldn’t allow the moment to pass without saying something.

“I do wish Anderley had allowed you to handle the matter as he was supposed to.”

Bree didn’t speak at first, but her strokes of the brush became less forceful. I studied her face in the reflection of the mirror, curious what she was thinking, but she seemed resolved not to divulge it, replying with a simple “Thank you, m’lady.” Whether this was to shelter herself or me, I didn’t know, but I respected her too much to force the issue.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to broach it with Gage. “And what did you say to Anderley when he presented you with this information?” I asked as we waited in the line of carriages delivering passengers to St. James Square.

“Well done.”

I scowled.

“Surely you didn’t expect me to scold him. We needed the information, and he obtained it for us.”

“Yes, but that task was assigned to Bree, and she asked him not to interfere.”

He tugged at his gloves. “We aren’t planning a garden party, Kiera. This is a murder investigation. It doesn’t matter who the task is assigned to, so long as we receive results.”

“I see,” I replied measuredly, fighting to restrain my anger. “So then Anderley has finished checking Heron’s alibi?”

“No. He feared many of the shops would be closed.”

“Then if I give Bree a list of those same addresses and tell her to feel free to track them down first, you’ll be fine with that?”

His expression turned cross. “This isn’t a competition.”

“And yet your failure to discourage Anderley when he interfered in the exact same manner has set up just such a scenario between our servants.”

He glared at me tight-lipped.

“It would be one thing if you’d ordered them to work together, but instead you assigned Anderley his own tasks to accomplish, in addition to finding the ballad-seller.”

He turned away, and for a moment I thought he’d decided to concede the field, but I should have known better. “Why does Miss McEvoy care so much that Anderley interfered? He helped her.”

I wasn’t about to divulge my suspicions about the underlying motive for Bree’s upset—Anderley’s flirtatious tactics for eliciting information from females—for that was merely secondary to the main reason anyway. “She was given one job to do to contribute to this investigation, and he took it from her. Wouldn’t you be miffed if, say, your father assigned you one task to complete, and then your cousin accomplished it before you had the chance?” I arched my eyebrows in emphasis. “Just because Bree is a woman doesn’t mean she’s happy to pass off responsibility.” It was my turn to look away, adding in a dry undertone, “We’re not all damsels needing rescuing, contrary to popular opinion.”

Before Gage could respond, the door to our carriage was opened and the step lowered. A massive mansion loomed before us, occupying the corner where Elder Street met St. James Square on the older side of New Town as it began to incline toward Calton Hill. Lord and Lady Soames had resided here for close to fifty years and, both being about the age of seventy, chose to receive their guests while seated on two high-backed, gilded armchairs before the massive stone hearth in their entry hall. As we inched our way forward in the line, I felt Gage’s warm hand press against the small of my back.

“I’m sorry we quarreled,” he leaned down to murmur in my ear. “You are