A Wicked Conceit, Anna Huber [best e book reader txt] 📗

man was observing the house, but after ten minutes of searching I gave up the effort. I would simply have to keep a note for Bonnie Brock in my pocket, in hopes that I would recognize one of his men and could pass him the message to be delivered to Brock. For once, I hoped that would actually be sooner rather than later.

•   •   •

Despite a promising start to the day the next morning, matters swiftly turned to bad and then worse.

Though we hadn’t spoken much the evening prior, I woke in the middle of the night to find Gage asleep in bed beside me. I lay there gazing at his slumbering face in the dark, softened in repose, and felt my heart overflow with affection for him. So when I roused the next morning to discover he was already gone, at least I could comfort myself with the knowledge that he had been there, and at least he’d slept well.

At breakfast he seemed calmer, not simply pretending to be so. So although we didn’t speak about anything of substance, he could nonetheless converse about trivial things without the corners of his eyes crinkling or his mouth pursing with repressed anger.

Given that fact, I chose not to mention the strain that was still evident between Bree and Anderley. All in all, I wasn’t given much opportunity to observe them together, but what I had seen was not encouraging. And neither was Bree’s general mood. A passing comment she’d made the previous evening while readying me for Morven’s dinner party had led me to believe they’d both taken sides in my and Gage’s disagreement, essentially pitting men versus women. This was not promising for the future harmony of our household or our investigative quartet.

We had nearly finished breakfast when a message was delivered for Gage.

“It’s from Maclean,” he explained as he began to read. “Kirkcowan is still unconscious. His physician is even less optimistic of his recovery.” He exhaled in frustration, crumpling the missive.

I lowered my cup of chocolate. “I suppose we shouldn’t hope for any further information from him, then.” I felt a pulse of empathy for Lady Kirkcowan and her children. Whatever his failures, he was still their husband and father, and I knew they would grieve him in some capacity if he passed.

“No. Nor from his papers, of which he had few. From what I gathered, he seemed to believe that if he burned the bills and IOUs, then that destroyed all evidence of his debts and obligations. The only thing of interest we found in his safe was the paste copy of that diamond and sapphire necklace he alleged was stolen, recovered, and stolen again.” Gage pushed to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to reply to Maclean.”

I nodded, watching his retreating figure until it disappeared from sight.

A few moments later I wished him back, for my sister appeared in the doorway, apparently having barreled past Jeffers, who followed close behind. “Still breakfasting?” she demanded without preamble.

“Good morning to you, too, Alana,” I replied, and then offered our butler a sympathetic smile. At the best and worst of times, my sister could be a force to reckon with. Butlers might be trained to stop ruffians from entering, or overbearing gentlemen, but I would back my sister in a match against any of those for craftiness.

“Can I offer you anything to drink?” I asked with a saccharine sweet smile, knowing that a scolding was coming. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

“Coffee?”

“No.”

“Chocolate?”

“Kiera, I said no, thank you,” she snapped.

“I don’t think she wants anything,” I turned to Jeffers to say.

“Yes, my lady,” he replied, a hint of amusement lurking about his mouth. He bowed out of the room, leaving me to my sister’s surly company.

“You know why I’m here,” she accused.

“Of course I do. You practically announced it to the world with that angry stride and scowling visage.”

“Lady Kinnear couldn’t wait to crow to me and everyone else who would listen last night that you and Gage are quarreling.”

I sighed, having known this was coming. I should have slapped the gossiping Lady Kinnear at Alana’s dinner party when I had the chance.

“That he practically threw you out of the carriage onto your own doorstep.”

I cast her a dismissive glance. “Can you honestly imagine my husband doing such a thing?”

“I can’t,” she conceded. “But that’s beside the point.”

“Actually, it’s not,” I countered evenly.

“It’s what everyone thinks happened.”

“Everyone?”

She plowed on, ignoring me. “Morven told me the two of you barely spoke two words to each other yesterday evening.”

“My, our cousin was up and about quite early this morning. She’s a busy little bee.”

Alana’s brow lowered, clearly not appreciating my attempts at levity. “Is it true?”

“No. I distinctly remember saying at least six words to him.” I counted them on my fingers. “‘Darling, will you fetch me a drink?’ No, seven.”

“Kiera!” she practically shrieked. “This is no laughing matter. People are talking. And now someone is saying they saw you with Bonnie Brock Kincaid earlier this week.”

I arched my eyebrows in surprise, considering the possibility that we were seen while we conversed in my garden, but I quickly dismissed it. Not only was it raining too hard for anyone to have spied us from the neighboring town houses, but Bonnie Brock had stayed inside the stable, out of sight of prying eyes. “Now, that’s balderdash.”

But once again she wasn’t listening. “Is that why Gage is so angry? Is that why you fought?”

I glared at her, as her leap to such an offensive conclusion succeeded in enraging me when none of her previous words had.

She leaned toward me. “You have to stay away from him, Kiera. For the sake of your reputation and your marriage . . .”

“Alana, stop!”

The crack of my voice seemed to grab her attention when nothing else had. She stared back at me in startlement, but I knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Do you know how incredibly insulting you’re being? Do you honestly think my husband isn’t aware of every altercation I might happen to