A Wicked Conceit by Anna Huber (best young adult book series txt) 📗

when Bree entered the room, she found me with my face and forearms pressed into the bedding and my bottom hoisted in the air. When she didn’t speak immediately, I turned my face against the counterpane, wondering if I’d been mistaken. Perhaps Gage had returned and was even now ogling me as if I weren’t nine months heavy with child. By now, I well understood the idiosyncrasies of the male mind and their curious affinity for the shape of a woman in such a position.

Bree, indeed, stood inside the door, but she hadn’t yet pivoted to face me. And if I wasn’t very much mistaken, she was gathering herself. My chest tightened as I pondered why.

I buried my face back in the bedding as she turned, not wanting to disconcert her with the knowledge that I’d been observing her.

“Aye, that’ll do the trick,” she remarked with her customary frankness as she observed my posture. “But I assume ye were wantin’ this.” I lifted my head to find her brandishing the hot water bottle I’d requested. “So let’s get ye oot o’ that gown.”

She helped me to stand, swiftly undoing the buttons down the back of my dress before lifting it over my head. Then she removed my stays and helped me to crawl up onto the bed. Positioning my pillows and the hot water bottle at my back, I shifted until it rested in just the right position, sinking deeper with a contented breath.

“Better?” she asked, allowing me my first chance to see her fully. Her eyes were rimmed in red and her cheeks were splotchy, telling me she’d been crying. And not just a few tears, but great heaving sobs.

“Yes.”

She began to turn away, but I caught hold of her hand before she could do so.

“Bree, what’s happened?” I knew I was breaking a rule to ask, but I couldn’t see her looking so miserable without at least attempting to help.

She shook her head, forcing a smile. “It’s nothin’, m’lady.” But the tears glittering at the back of her eyes told me that was a lie.

“It’s not nothing,” I argued gently. “Please, will you tell me?”

Her head swiveled to the side as she tried to hide her distress. But her throat worked as she swallowed, and her jaw alternately tightened and softened as she struggled to master her emotions.

“Is it Anderley?” I asked, deciding to wager a guess.

She turned to blink at me. “How’d ye ken?” she asked in a raspy voice.

“Because he’s typically the cause of your grief.”

She frowned, as if uncertain whether to defend him. “That’s no’ really true.”

“Lately, it is,” I disputed not unkindly. When she offered no rebuttal, I decided to press harder. “You two do seem to argue a great deal.”

Her hands smoothed the fabric of the counterpane before her over and over as she considered my words. “Maybe.”

“What happened this time?”

“He . . . he told me I expect too much o’ him. That I canna expect him to stop doin’ all he can to help Mr. Gage wi’ his investigations.”

“You asked him to stop investigating?” I inquired in tempered surprise.

“Nay. I never said that. I dinna want him to stop.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I dinna want to stop myself. I like helpin’ you and Mr. Gage. We both do.” Her face contorted. “I only want him to stop flirtin’ wi’ every girl who crosses his path in order to get information.”

“Does he do that?”

“Aye. The actress at the play, Rookwood’s maid, and who kens how many others.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye forget, we’ve been, more or less, part o’ the same household noo for fifteen months. I’ve seen him work his charm on dozens o’ lasses—old and young.”

“Anderley is an attractive man, and I suspect that’s the method that’s proven most effective in the past.” I thought back to when I first met Gage at Gairloch Castle. How he’d flirted and charmed every female in his vicinity. How they’d fawned and fluttered. How vexed it had made me before and after I’d realized I was attracted to him as well. Until I’d realized that his roguish persona was a mask, his charisma wielded as a shield and a weapon.

“Aye. Too attractive for his own good.” Her entire body flexed with frustration. “But is it truly too much for me to ask that he no’ flirt so much, that he develop some different tactics?”

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “Although Gage still uses his charm to gain information from time to time, and to interact socially, I know I can trust him never to cross the line.” I tilted my head. “It seems like you’re saying you can’t say that about Anderley.” I had never personally observed such behavior in my husband’s valet, but then our interactions were limited. I rarely witnessed his dealings with other servants or his methods of investigation unless he was assisting Gage in questioning a suspect.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, rubbing it fretfully. “I dinna ken what I’m sayin’. I should be able to trust him, shouldna I? But I just dinna ken.” She began to pace a tight circle. “Whenever I see him talkin’ to another lass like that, it just makes my stomach churn and my palms sweat.”

“Other than the flirtations you’ve witnessed, has he given you any other reason to believe he’s playing you false?”

She shook her head. “Nay, I s’pose no’.” She inhaled a swift breath before blurting, “But how can I be sure? My mam believed my da could be trusted, until it was too late. I dinna want to wind up wi’ a man like that.”

This statement seemed to slice straight to the heart of the matter, for I hadn’t known Bree’s father had apparently been unfaithful to her mother.

“Bree, look at me,” I urged.

She halted her steps abruptly and turned to face me, though her body still thrummed with frantic energy.

“Be careful you’re not tarring Anderley with the same brush as your father. Not all