A Wicked Conceit (Lady Darby Mysteries #9) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,81

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 right. I should have considered the matter from Miss McEvoy’s perspective.”

I smiled gratefully up at him, and seeing the warm regard reflected in his eyes, I felt my anger toward him thaw. I was well aware that I was wed to one of the most attractive men in the realm, though much of the time I didn’t dwell on such a thing. But once in a while it struck me with the same impact as it had the first time we met, making my insides melt and my knees a little weak. Though I would never have admitted it at the time, even to myself. I’d despised the way women seemed to turn fluttery and foolish at the sight of him. And while it was true that I’d never outwardly lost my senses, inwardly I was nearly overcome.

As I was now. His golden hair gleamed in the light of the chandelier overhead, a burnished halo to his bronzed features, finely sculpted cheekbones, and pale blue eyes. Eyes that communicated his love for me as much as the twinkle in their depths hinted at his anticipation of the plans we’d already set into motion for the evening.

“Oh, my dear. I do so love to see two young people in love,” Lady Soames gushed, recalling me to the fact that the receiving line had moved forward. “Oh, and you’re in the family way. How lovely.” She accepted my hand, pressing it between her own. The servant standing behind the chair bent forward to whisper my name. “You are very welcome to our home, Lady Darby. Oh!” she gasped as if just now recognizing who I was. “Yes, Lady Darby.” She smiled archly. “You must come to call. I have questions, so many questions.”

I smiled tightly, caught between amusement and embarrassment at her novel approach. Most of the ladies who gossiped about The King of Grassmarket either glared