{"product_id":"a-brush-with-shadows-isbn-9780399587221","title":"A Brush with Shadows","description":"\u003cb\u003eSebastian Gage returns home to battle the ghosts of his past and prevent them from destroying his future with Kiera in the latest exciting installment in this national bestselling series.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJuly 1831. It's been fifteen years since Sebastian Gage has set foot in Langstone Manor. Though he has shared little with his wife, Lady Kiera Darby, about his past, she knows that he planned never to return to the place of so many unhappy childhood memories. But when an urgent letter from his grandfather reaches them in Dublin, Ireland, and begs Gage to visit, Kiera convinces him to go.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll is not well at Langstone Manor. Gage's grandfather, the Viscount Tavistock, is gravely ill, and Gage's cousin Alfred has suddenly vanished. He wandered out into the moors and never returned. The Viscount is convinced someone or something other than the natural hazards of the moors is to blame for Alfred's disappearance. And when Alfred's brother Rory goes missing, Kiera and Gage must concede he may be right. Now, they must face the ghosts of Gage's past, discover the truth behind the local superstitions, and see beyond the tricks being played by their very own eyes to expose what has happened to Gage's family before the moors claim yet another victim...\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eA Brush with Shadows\u003c\/i\u003e:\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A missing heir, an estranged family, and a possible poisoner add up to a pretty puzzle for two far-from-disinterested sleuths…. Huber draws on the beauties and dangers of the mysterious moorlands to provide a fitting setting for a knotty mystery filled with envy, greed, and thwarted love.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePraise for the Lady Darby Mysteries\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “[A] history mystery in fine Victorian style! Anna Lee Huber’s spirited debut mixes classic country house mystery with a liberal dash of historical romance.”—Julia Spencer-Fleming, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Riveting…Huber deftly weaves together an original premise, an enigmatic heroine, and a compelling Highland setting.”—Deanna Raybourn, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[A] fascinating heroine…A thoroughly enjoyable read!”—Victoria Thompson, national bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Reads like a cross between a gothic novel and a mystery with a decidedly unusual heroine.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \"Set largely in Scotland in 1830, Huber's well-done sequel to 2012's The Anatomist's Wife includes all the ingredients of a romantic suspense novel, starting with a proud and independent heroine...Strong and lively characters as well as believable family dynamics, however, elevate this above stock genre fare.\"—Publishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “[A] clever heroine with a shocking past and a talent for detection.”—Carol K. Carr, national bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[Huber] designs her heroine as a woman who straddles the line between eighteenth-century behavior and twenty-first-century independence.”—New York Journal of Books\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[A] must read…One of those rare books that will both shock and please readers.”—Fresh Fiction\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Fascinates with its compelling heroine who forges her own way in a society that frowns upon female independence. The crime itself is well planned and executed. The journey to uncover a killer takes many twists and leads to a surprising culprit.”—\u003ci\u003eRT Book Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “One of the best historical mysteries that I have read this year.”—Cozy Mystery Book Reviews\u003cb\u003eAnna Lee Huber\u003c\/b\u003e is the Daphne award-winning author of the national bestselling Lady Darby Mysteries and the Verity Kent Mysteries. She is a summa cum laude graduate of Lipscomb University in Nashville, Tennessee, where she majored in music and minored in psychology. She currently resides with her family and is hard at work on her next novel.Chapter one\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The devil's boots don't creak.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e -Scottish Proverb\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e July 1831\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Dartmoor, England\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The first time I laid eyes on Langstone Manor, I could not blame      my husband for having stayed away for over fifteen years. I'm sure      it didn't help that the weather was far from hospitable. Heavy      gray clouds filled the sky, releasing sheets of rain that obscured      the horizon, all but concealing my view of the infamous moors      rising to the east. But even on a bright, sunlit day, I struggled      to imagine the house being more inviting. In truth, it appeared      downright foreboding, even without the painful memories that      plagued Gage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Memories I could see weighing on him now. They were written in the      tautness of his brow and the deep pools of his eyes as he stared      up at the stone manor through our hired carriage's window.      Sebastian Gage had conducted dozens of precarious inquiries, had      faced down Turkish warriors in the Greek War of Independence, and      had most recently been winged by a bullet fired by a temperamental      Irish housemaid during our last inquiry only a week before, but      this place somehow still troubled him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. After all, if I were      about to enter my first husband, Sir Anthony Darby's, London town      house-that place of so many unhappy remembrances-I wouldn't have      been so sanguine. It's never easy to confront the demons of our      past. But to see my normally unflappable husband so apprehensive      unsettled me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I reached out to touch Gage's hand where it gripped his leg,      hoping to offer him a bit of reassurance. I wanted to do more than      that, but with our maid and valet seated across from us, that      would have been highly inappropriate. As loyal and trustworthy as      Bree and Anderley might be, and privy to more intimacies than      most, having assisted us with numerous murderous inquiries, there      were still some things that should remain private between husband      and wife.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gage turned his hand over to squeeze my fingers and offered me a      fleeting smile before turning back to the view outside his window.      I followed suit, curious about this place where he had spent so      much of his childhood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He'd told me little about his time here with his mother while his      father had been away at sea, fighting Napoleon and manning the      blockade. However, what he had revealed had spoken volumes, and      I'd been able to infer even more than he probably realized from      the things he hadn't said. Whatever else he felt about this place,      it was clear he'd not been happy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stared upward at the manor's edifice of coarse stone and tall      mullioned windows, their glass dark and oily in the gloom. Two      symmetrical wings projected from the main block, their exteriors      echoing that of the one before us, but for the long narrow windows      which I suspected had once been arrow slits, now fitted with      glass. The roof was covered in small slate shingles only a shade      lighter than the clouds. The tall chimneys and sprocket eaves with      their gabled ends added angles and dimension to the bland faade,      but they failed to lighten the overall melancholy feel of the      setting in any way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The manor didn't look much different than I anticipated the      granite-shattered outcroppings of the tors would look. I wondered      if that had been the builder's intention. If so, he'd succeeded,      but at what cost? As beautiful as the landscape of Dartmoor was      purported to be, it was also treacherous, and this home had taken      on many of the same characteristics.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The garden which had sprung up in the courtyard before the manor      also did nothing to help matters. Hedged in by an imposing metal      gate and stone walls, thick beds of green plants and a few      straggling pale flowers had taken root at the edges of the gravel      lane. Trees ringed the edge of the property, their twisted trunks      seeming to sprout from the very walls themselves as if they would      not be denied access, or allowed to escape. The garden was clearly      well kept, its verges rigidly maintained, but some more colorful      flowers and a bit of judicious pruning would have done much to      lighten the space. But perhaps those plants did not grow in this      climate and the dense foliage refused to be stunted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Do you think they realize we've arrived?\" I asked, beginning to      question whether we should send Anderley to knock on the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the failing light, it was impossible to see much of anything      beneath the pale stone archway through which I presumed one      accessed the main door, but a footman hurried forth from its      recess, allaying my uncertainty. However, any question as to      whether our arrival had been anticipated was swiftly answered by      the widening of the young man's eyes as he scrutinized our trunks      strapped to the roof of the carriage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Good evening, sir,\" he murmured upon opening the chaise's door.      \"Were you expected?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gage's mouth tightened in what looked like annoyance, but that I      knew to be an emotion far more complicated. \"Yes,\" he announced      before stepping down into the loose gravel without offering the      servant any further explanation. Taking the umbrella from the      startled footman's hand, he reached back to assist me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I wrapped my shawl tighter around me against the wind, and opened      my mouth to remind him it wasn't the servant's fault he'd been      caught unprepared. But one look at Gage's face made me fall      silent. He already knew this, and his tight-lipped displeasure was      not directed at the footman, but at his grandfather, the Viscount      Tavistock.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Regardless of our delayed arrival, the viscount should have made      his staff aware of the prospect of our coming. After all, he'd      been the one to write to Gage, begging him to visit-a move which      Gage assured me was entirely out of character for the proud,      taciturn man. His urgent missive had originally been sent to      London and had to be forwarded on to us in Ireland, where we had      just wrapped up our latest murderous inquiry, causing a delay of      more than a week. In our rush to reach Langstone Manor, we'd not      paused to send a message ahead of us to confirm our plans, knowing      it wouldn't have arrived much before we would.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Given that postponement, it was possible that the matter for which      we'd been summoned had already been resolved. Or perhaps Lord      Tavistock had simply given up on us. Whatever the reason, the      household was not prepared for our visit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gage hurried us forward, pausing once we'd stepped through the      arch into the covered porch, where he turned to address the      footman who trailed behind us. \"The coachman has driven us all the      way from Plymouth, and I've promised him lodging for the night for      himself and his horses. Please see to it, as well as our servants      and luggage.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The flustered expression on the footman's face would have been      comical had I not also felt some empathy for him. He was young and      inexperienced, and so could not be blamed for his failure to      recognize Gage after his long absence, or perhaps for even being      cognizant of his existence. The footman glanced back and forth      between us and the carriage, uncertain whether he should insist he      announce us or do as Gage had instructed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Fortunately, an older man came to his rescue. \"Timothy, do as he      asks,\" said a slight man standing in the shadows next to the door      before shifting his gaze to meet my husband's. \"I'll show Mr. Gage      inside.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light underneath      the porch, but Gage already recognized the speaker.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hammett, I'm surprised to see you're still with us.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stiffened, surprised by the rudeness of my husband's comment,      but the other man didn't seem the least insulted if the grin that      cracked his thin mouth was any indication.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Aye. Yer cousins haven't rent me from this mortal coil yet. Nor      your grandfather neither.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A flicker of a smile crossed Gage's face.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The elderly man, who I now recognized must be the butler, ushered      us out of the damp into a small vestibule. He tilted his head to      inspect Gage and then me, dislodging the few stray gray hairs      still clinging to the top of his head. \"This'll be yer bride,      then?\" Though he was merely a servant, I felt I had been assessed      and judged, and apparently found acceptable, for his creaky voice      warmed. \"Welcome to Langstone Manor.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Thank you,\" I replied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then his eyes narrowed on Gage. \"You've been gone a long while.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gage was not fazed nor chagrined by the old retainer's censure.      \"If I wasn't already conscious of that, the sight of your wrinkled      face would certainly remind me. But what are you still doing here?      I thought you would have retired to one of the estate's cottages      or shuffled off to the seaside long ago.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And leave his lordship to fend off these leeches alone?\" His      scraggly brow lowered. \"Not that it'll matter much longer.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The remainder of Gage's levity fled at this comment. \"How is he?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You'll see for yerselves,\" Hammett replied gruffly, turning at      the sound of footsteps.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I followed his gaze toward the gleaming wooden staircase on the      opposite side of the long stone entry hall, where a tall woman      dressed in a midnight blue gown had paused a few feet from the      base of the steps. I could not immediately discern who she was in      relation to Gage, but it was evident from the manner in which his      eyes hardened and his nostrils flared that she was not someone he      was fond of. And the feeling was mutual.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was accustomed to everyone liking my husband. Those who weren't      already won over by his good looks were quickly persuaded by his      charm and easy nature. Even his father, who was derisive and      sometimes unforgivably hard on him, still cared for him in his own      contrary way. However, this woman took few pains to conceal the      loathing shimmering in her eyes. Where this naked animosity came      from, I didn't know, but it took me aback.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Maintaining a faade of polite composure, Gage stepped forward to      greet her, but halted when a dark-haired man came bustling into      the hall through a doorway on the left.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mother, did you know a carriage has arrived? Do you think it      could be . . .\" His words faltered as he followed her gaze toward      where we stood. His eyes widened.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Given my reputation, it was not the most awkward welcome I'd ever      received, but considering the fact that I suspected these people      were related to Gage in some way, it was certainly the most      disconcerting. Indignation began to build inside me, not on my      behalf, but on Gage's.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was used to people thinking the worst of me. The scandal over my      involvement with the work of my first husband, the great anatomist      Sir Anthony Darby-specifically my sketching his dissections for an      anatomical textbook he was writing-had blackened my name and made      me a figure of fear and revulsion in many circles. Few cared to      note that my participation had been forced, or that in spite of      it, my drawings had been beautiful and flawless. For them it was      proof enough of my unnaturalness that as a gentlewoman I had not      only survived such a gruesome ordeal, but also gone on to use that      reluctantly accrued knowledge to help solve murders and other      crimes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gage, on the other hand, was a different story. As a gentleman      inquiry agent of some renown, he did not suffer the same slights      to his character. In fact, the work he undertook as a      diversion-for he had no need to earn his living-only enhanced his      reputation. Combined with the fact that he was perhaps the most      charismatic and attractive young gentleman in all of England, he      was practically guaranteed an eager invitation from every hostess      in the country. I had feared that our marriage would harm his      standing, but thus far our unlikely match had only raised his      prominence to almost mythical proportions.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But apparently this partiality did not extend to his late mother's      family. Watching the trio eye one another, their expressions      ranging from wariness to outright enmity, I now better understood      my husband's initial reluctance to come here. Even though it had      been quickly overridden, by his own inclination and my admittedly      uninformed opinion, it said a great deal about his relationship      with the maternal relatives he'd spent much of his childhood with      that he wouldn't immediately wish to come to their aid.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The dark-haired man was the first to speak. He took a few hesitant      steps toward us before resuming a more assured stride. \"Gage, is      that you?\" His mouth curled into an uncertain grin. \"By Jove, it      is!\" He reached out to shake his hand. \"Dashed it's been a long      time.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's good to see you, Rory,\" Gage replied. Much of the hostility      he'd directed at the woman had faded from his eyes as he greeted      the other man, but there was still a guardedness to his demeanor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And this must be your wife,\" Rory guessed. \"Grandfather told us      you'd wed.\" His expression couldn't help but hold rabid interest,      though he did at least try, rather unsuccessfully, to mask it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes.\" Gage gazed down at me with a glint of protective pride.      \"Kiera, allow me to introduce my cousin, the Honorable Roland      Trevelyan.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I offered him my hand, which he clasped respectfully. \"I'm pleased      to meet you, Mr. Trevelyan.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Likewise, Mrs. Gage.\" His pale blue eyes, just a few shades      darker than Gage's wintry hue-obviously a Trevelyan trait-softened      with regard. \"Is this your first time visiting the West Country?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes,\" I replied. \"Before today, I'm afraid I'd never set foot on      English soil farther west than Oxford.\" I paused to consider.      \"Unless you count Cumberland. I suppose that's farther west than      Oxfordshire.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Rory's expression turned self-deprecating. \"I wouldn't know. I'm      afraid I never was very good at geography.\" His eyes flicked to      Gage. \"Got my knuckles rapped more than a few times for not being      able to point out Devonshire on the map.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I smiled at his attempt at levity even as his jest failed to amuse      the others. Though I didn't yet know what his relationship with      Gage had been like in the past, I couldn't help warming to the man      before me. There was something about his lack of pretension and      his almost bumbling charm that made him quite agreeable. He wasn't      as handsome or alluring as Gage, but in this instance I think such      slick assurance would have worked against him, making me question      his sincerity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The click of footsteps crossing the granite floor recalled us to      the presence of the other woman in the room, who had observed her      son's greetings with cool detachment. Rory glanced over his      shoulder. \"Mother, come meet Mrs. Gage.\"","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48232873328869,"sku":"NP9780399587221","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399587221.jpg?v=1767720325","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/a-brush-with-shadows-isbn-9780399587221","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}