A Wicked Conceit Anna Huber (learn to read activity book TXT) 📖

for him now, to draw him out, but it had temporarily deserted me. A wound to my own pride, I supposed, as I felt great satisfaction in my ability to read people so accurately. It had proven to be a great asset in the portraits I painted, as well as our inquiries. But in this case, identifying the splinter in my own eye didn’t make it any easier for me to relinquish it.

Chapter 6

We traversed the remainder of the short walk to Charlotte Square in chilly silence. A chill which was not assuaged by my sister’s reception to her home.

“Good heavens, Kiera, you’re almost late,” she chided, standing in the hall beyond the entry where Figgins, their butler, was helping us with our outer garments. “I expect the other guests to arrive at any moment.” She gestured me forward impatiently as she scrutinized the plaited pattern in loops of satin braid on the bodice of my celestial blue gown, as well as the ribbon band of its waistline affixed high to accommodate my condition. “Yes, this is lovely,” she proclaimed, reaching up to fluff the feather draped over my velvet toque headdress. “Oh! But why are your cheeks so florid? Don’t tell me you walked?”

“It’s scarcely two blocks,” I countered.

“But in this chill? And in your advanced state?”

I scowled. “I’m perfectly healthy, Alana. As I told you, Dr. Fenwick assured me that walking is good for me and the babe.”

My sister’s lips pursed as if she’d tasted something tart. “That may be, but I hardly think he meant under these circumstances.”

“Then what circumstances, pray tell, could he mean? We live in Edinburgh in March. Temperatures could hardly be balmier.”

“Perhaps we should adjoin to the drawing room,” Philip interrupted before his wife could utter a retort in front of the servants.

Alana inhaled as if to continue and then broke off, whirling away to stamp toward the room he’d indicated.

Philip finished shaking Gage’s hand and then offered me his arm. “You look lovely, Kiera.”

“Thank you,” I replied, my affront softening under his regard and the genuine affection reflected in his eyes. While we hadn’t initially been close, Philip and I had always rubbed along quite well together. I suspected it was because he did not demand that I be agreeable or entertaining, as many gentlemen of his status expected. Rather, he had been understanding and kind about my distraction and unsociable behavior, recognizing that my strengths did not lie in charm and small talk. Though perhaps he hadn’t realized I was conscious of it at the time, I had recognized how he’d made an effort to discuss the things I was interested in, namely art. When he’d not wearied of this, I’d grasped what a good man he must be, and how very much he must have loved my sister.

Something that the evidence bore out when the terrible scandal broke following Sir Anthony’s death, with the revelation that I had been the illustrator of his dissections. Philip had become one of my most stalwart defenders, taking me into his household without batting an eyelash, and even moving me to the seat of his earldom in the northern Highlands to escape the worst of society’s slander. Because of that, I would be forever grateful to him—for his support and protection during the worst months and years of my life.

All in all, I was incredibly fond of my brother-in-law. But there were times when his high-handedness, his rather aristocratic insistence that he knew best riled my temper. He was the Earl of Cromarty, after all, and accustomed to people complying with whatever he suggested. And for all that, I granted him some compassion and clemency for being a supportive husband, I couldn’t help but loathe how he sometimes encouraged and even gave greater leverage to Alana’s little tyrannies. I hadn’t forgotten how Philip had encouraged his wife to believe they knew what was best for me, or how he’d supported her efforts to persuade me to quit with my investigations at Sunlaws Castle when this quarrel between us had begun. He seemed to be working to help us mend the rift now, but he wasn’t innocent in its inception.

As we approached the door to the drawing room, Philip leaned closer to murmur in my ear. “Be gentle with her. She’s worried about you. What with the gossip, and the play, and your being so close to your confinement, she’s very concerned.”

And I wasn’t?

Though I hadn’t spoken, the thought must have flashed in my eyes, for the corners of his mouth curled in commiseration. “I know she looks it, but she’s not as strong as you, Kiera. Few people are.”

I was left speechless, unable to form a reply. I had always considered my older sister to be one of the strongest people I knew. Perhaps because, for as long as I could remember, she had always been such a strong presence in my life. Our mother had died when I was eight years old and Alana was twelve, and from that moment forward, my sister had tried to take on the role of mother to me and our brother, Trevor. With the exception of my art—which only I controlled—and the three horrible years of my marriage to Sir Anthony—in which he had controlled everything—for better or for worse, Alana had been the drive behind all my other decisions. She had always seemed such a force to be reckoned with that it had been easier to comply with her wishes than argue over every detail, especially if I didn’t deeply care one way or the other.

That is, until Sebastian Gage came along. Since then, my confidence had blossomed, and I had begun to pay less and less heed to Alana’s opinions.

Even so, I had never considered the fact that I might be more resilient. It was true, I’d weathered far more horrible things than my sister had. And