A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,30

had much in common with the duke’s staff. Anderley was the outlander this time.

“Aye. Everyone was quite jolly.” A smile briefly flickered over her lips. “They seemed glad to have another Scots lass to swing aboot the room.” Her mouth tightened. “They were verra kind.”

But someone had not been, and by her use of the word “they,” I could only suspect it was Anderley. The pair had always gotten along rather well, trading jests and teasing barbs like a brother and sister, but apparently this had gone beyond that. And did not bode well for the harmony of our investigative quartet.

Bree whisked the scapula and the wool habit from my frame, and I sank gratefully onto the padded stool before the dressing table, relieved to be free of the heavy garment. Goose flesh raised over my skin from the chill of the room and the bare covering of my thin silk chemise, but I swiftly found myself swathed in the warmth of my woolen nightdress.

“Wore ye oot, didna they, m’lady?” Bree cooed as she tucked my indigo dressing gown around me. “Yer gettin’ to the state where ye canna do as much as yer accustomed to. Ye must watch yerself,” she scolded gently.

“Find a way for me to stop tripping over dead bodies and I will,” I grumbled, none too happy to find myself in the midst of another murder investigation.

Her lips curled upward in empathy, and then she set to work on my hair, uncoiling it, brushing it, and then braiding it into one long chestnut rope. I hesitated to ask her about the animosity I’d witnessed between her and Anderley, wondering if it was my place to pry, but the deep groove creasing her forehead convinced me I couldn’t remain silent.

“Bree, is anything amiss?

“O’ course no’, m’lady.”

But the clipped tone of her voice merely further convinced me she was lying.

“Are you certain? You must know we noticed the tension between you and Anderley when we entered the room?” Gage and I were inquiry agents after all.

She reached for a ribbon, pulling tighter than necessary to secure it around the end of my braid. “’Twas nothin’ but a childish squabble. Ye needn’t concern yerself.”

“Bree . . .”

“Will that be all?” she demanded, cutting off my sympathetic plea. Her gaze met mine briefly in the reflection of the mirror, and I could see the hurt she struggled to mask beneath the fury snapping in her eyes. Then she whirled away, reaching for my discarded costume.

“Yes,” I replied belatedly, before reaching out a hand to stop her. “But leave the habit.”

She glanced back at me in confusion.

I grimaced. “I believe I shall have need of it in the morning.”

She nodded in comprehension, and then wished me a good night.

I stared at the door as she closed it behind her, wondering what the squabble had been about. And why it had rumpled both of their appearances.

I pressed a hand to my forehead. I was too tired to contemplate the matter further. Daybreak would come soon enough, and with it, perhaps some answers.

Tossing my dressing gown across the end of the bed, I climbed between the soft sheets of the four-poster bed. My muscles began to melt as I stretched my toes down toward the warmth of the cloth-wrapped brick Bree must have tucked down at the bottom of the sheets before Gage and I arrived. I fleetingly considered waiting for my husband to join me. Contrary to many married couples among the upper class, we shared a bed every night; Gage used his assigned chamber only to change his clothes. I wanted to find out if he’d wrung anything from Anderley about his quarrel with Bree, but if he was bathing to remove the powder from his skin and scalp, he could be some time yet. My eyes drifted shut happily on the thought of Gage’s muscled form in the bath, and that was all I remembered.

* * *

* * *

Anderley and Bree returned with the sun, just as instructed. Fortunately, during the short days of early January, when Scotland received less than eight hours of sunlight, this did not occur until nearly nine o’clock. So while I still had to drag myself wearily into a sitting position, at least the six and a half hours of sleep I’d gotten had blunted the edges of my exhaustion.

Anderley opened the drapes to allow a pale wash of light to flood the room through the northwestern-facing windows, while Bree helped me to draw on