A Wicked Conceit by Anna Huber (e novels to read TXT) 📕

only that. She claims he had the prettiest manners, but even so, she noticed disturbing tendencies in him, though she wouldn’t elaborate what precisely that meant. That she feared he might follow in his libertine father’s footsteps. But she never suspected he would go so far as murder. She decried his shocking behavior and said she could only be glad that you and Gage had exposed him for what he really was.”

As refreshing as it was to hear Lady Hollingsworth praising instead of berating me for once, I didn’t take it too much to heart. It sounded to me like her pride was smarting from allowing the man to court her only daughter, and she saw his crimes as confirmation of her intuition. But I kept my tongue behind my teeth, for if somehow her words had convinced Alana to stop chiding me, then I would be glad of them.

But Alana wasn’t finished. “It made me think of what you told me the other day.” She fidgeted with the lace along her sleeve. “How you said you were only trying to make the world safer, fairer, more just. And I realized, how can I object to that?” She arched her eyebrows imperiously. “So long as you’re not being a ninnyhammer.”

“You do say the sweetest things,” I muttered wryly.

“When I try.” Her answering smile was somewhat brittle, and her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away. “I couldn’t do what you do, Kiera,” she confessed in a broken voice. “I couldn’t stomach the sight of murder, or untangle the clues, or confront the danger of it all. And do so while ignoring the censure of society.” Her gaze dropped. “And seeing how brave and determined you are has forced me to confront my own shortcomings. How I’ve bowed to convention my entire life . . .”

I squeezed her hands where I still gripped them. “No, Alana. Don’t do that to yourself.” I leaned forward, forcing her gaze to meet mine. “Our lives, our paths are not the same. And mine is certainly no more noble than yours is. You are a wonderful wife, and countess, and mother. And I know you’ve faced your own difficulties. Do not give yourself such short shrift.”

She sniffed and nodded.

“Besides, you can’t tell me that if you had to do it all over again, you wouldn’t have chosen this life every time.”

“You’re right. I would have.” She released my hands to pull the handkerchief from its place tucked inside her sleeve and dabbed at her nose. “But I feel rather ashamed of myself for trying so mightily to force you to fit into the same box simply to make myself feel better about my own choices.”

I studied her splotchy face and then reached out to tuck a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. “Well, I won’t pretend I wasn’t hurt by your attempts to browbeat me. But perhaps I needed it. To recognize how strong I’ve truly become. Two years ago I could never have withstood such an onslaught. I was so broken. But now . . .” I inhaled a deep breath, glancing toward my daughter and husband. “Now, I have strength enough for three. And a large reason for that is you.” I took hold of Alana’s hand again. “You stood by me when I needed you desperately. And now I need you to stand by me even though I don’t.”

Her lips curled upward in an attempt at a smile.

“Can you do that?”

“Yes. You’ll always have me, Kiera. Whether you need me or not.”

I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my cheek to hers, relieved to have this disagreement between us resolved. Although there was one more thing I needed to know.

“Why did you stop writing poetry?”

Alana exhaled a weary breath as she stepped back from our embrace.

“And don’t tell me it’s because Malcolm was born. You could have gone on doing so.”

A tiny furrow formed between her brows. “Perhaps.” She turned to the mirror, dabbing at her eyes and nose and then adjusting the topaz and gold agraffe at the center of her bodice. “But Philip has responsibilities and ambitions, and he needs my support with them. I knew that when I wed him.”

“Did he ask you to stop writing?”

“Of course not.”

I gripped her arm, forcing her to look at me. “Then surely supporting him and caring for your children doesn’t preclude you from writing.”

“No, it doesn’t. And perhaps someday I will do more than pen a short verse to my children now and again. But for now . . .” She shook her head.

So I relented, despite the conflicting emotions I saw in her eyes. For what could I say? The decision was hers to make. Yet I was still intensely curious.

“Will you let me read any of your poems?”

She laughed softly. “Maybe. Though I’m afraid your expectations of my talents may be overstated if you’re judging them by your own artistic merits.”

I squeezed her arm. “I’m sure they’re lovely.”

Her shoulders shrugged as if to brush off their worth, but I could tell from the manner in which she seemed determined to pretend she didn’t care that they were not so meaningless to her. Even so, I allowed her to coax me back over to join the others.

Charlotte looked up from her scrutiny of Emma, a happy smile on her lips. And I knew it wasn’t simply because she was holding a baby, but also because my sister and I seemed to have resolved our differences. I promised myself we would journey to Barbreck Manor just as soon as it was safe to do so, in order to help her prepare for her wedding to my cousin Rye and to allow her extra time with her infant godchild.

Chapter 29

I looked up from Emma’s sleeping face as Bree slipped into the room. She brandished my amethyst gown triumphantly before her, and even in the low light of