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

said, still speaking in a quiet, even voice. “I think she thought she was confiding in someone she could trust.”

Her wide green eyes flicked to mine and held.

“Isn’t that right?”

She slowly nodded.

At this first tentative admission of her guilt, Bonnie Brock exploded away from the sideboard, but fortunately the round table was positioned between them. “How could ye do this to me?” he demanded to know as Maggie cowered against the wall. I edged a step closer to her even as Gage moved to intercept Brock should he try to come nearer. “Our secrets. Our past. Ye ken why I kept it quiet. Why I dinna tell anyone.” His face twisted with dark emotions. “My ain sister!” He whirled away with a snarl of disgust and fury, struggling to absorb this act of perfidy. “Did ye help to write that book, too?”

“Nay,” Maggie gasped, speaking for the first time as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Nay, o’ course I didna.”

“There’s no o’ course aboot it.”

She flinched at the harsh words but continued. “I had no idea they’d be used in a book. I had no idea he would ever . . .”

Betray her. Those were the words she seemed to choke on, her own pain shimmering in her eyes.

“You’re speaking of Mr. Heron,” I deduced. “That’s the man who betrayed you?”

“Heron?” Bonnie Brock repeated before she could speak. “Ye mean Rookwood’s silver-headed assistant? Why, I’ll kill him.”

“No!” Maggie cried as he turned to charge toward the door, but Gage held up his hands, stopping him.

“Get oot o’ my way, Gage.”

My breath caught at the dangerous glitter in his eyes and the way his hand hovered inside his loose greatcoat, where I knew he concealed weapons.

But Gage was not so easily intimidated. “Not until you hear what your sister has to say. Heron isn’t going anywhere,” he rationalized. “So listen to her first and then decide whether he deserves to die.”

Maggie stiffened, and even I was taken aback by this cool statement, but then I realized what my husband was doing. He was bartering with Bonnie Brock, knowing it would be easier to convince him to back down by suggesting he delay his intentions instead of abandon them.

When he looked as if he still might argue, Gage tempered his stance. “She’s your sister. At least give her the chance to explain.” His gaze darted briefly to mine, perhaps recognizing that was more than he’d given me upon discovering that Henry was his half brother.

Bonnie Brock grunted, turning back to face his sister. “Then talk. Tell me why ye betrayed me.”

But the manner in which he was ferociously scowling at her, impatiently waiting for her to speak, was of no use. Maggie would never be able to get her words out around her trembling sobs. So I pivoted, partially blocking her brother from her sight. “Tell me, Maggie,” I coaxed. “Tell me what happened.”

She sniffed, swiping her hand under her nose, and reminding me of how young she still was. I passed her my handkerchief, waiting while she dabbed at her nose and the wetness on her cheeks, seeming at a loss for where to begin.

“When did you meet Mr. Heron?”

“Last summer. He . . . he was eatin’ on a bench in the Trinity Hospital Physic Gardens. I like to walk there.” She shrugged one shoulder self-consciously. “It’s no’ so busy as other places in the city. It was blustery that day and my bonnet blew off. He ran after it to catch it for me.”

It was a familiar enough story. A chance meeting. A kindly gesture. The rest I could guess.

“And so you struck up a conversation and then continued to meet there.”

“Aye, but at first ’twas merely be chance. I mean . . .” She flushed and lowered her gaze. “I looked for him, but ’twasn’t planned.”

“And then it was.”

She nodded. Her gaze slid over my shoulder as if to see how her brother was taking this news before returning to mine. “At first, Daniel didna ken who I was. I mean, he didna ken I was Brock’s sister. And when he did, he got upset. Accused me o’ lyin’ to him.” Her brow furrowed. “But then he apologized. Said ’twasn’t my fault who my brother was. He seemed to think Brock was some sort o’ monster, and that was even worse.” Her eyes dropped to where she was worrying my handkerchief between her hands. “So I . . . I started to tell him things, aboot my life, aboot our past. He was a good listener.” A tear slid from her eye. “I didna ken he would tell anyone.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I thought I could trust him.”

“Then Heron didn’t write the book?”

She shook her head. “Nay. Said he was tricked into tellin’ Mugdock all he ken. That he thought he was helpin’ me and Brock. And when he found oot the truth, ’twas too late.”

I didn’t see how that could be, but I wasn’t going to question Heron’s motivations to Maggie. Not when it was clear from the soft look in her eyes when she spoke about him and the way she used his given name that she was in love with him.

I glanced at her brother to see if he was softening, but his jaw was clamped as tight as ever, his eyes as hard as flint.

“It’s lonely being Bonnie Brock’s sister, isn’t it?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his angry gaze shift to me, but I had a point to make, so I kept my attention squarely on Maggie.

She sniffed again and then nodded.

“I imagine you’re surrounded by people nearly all the time, what with his men guarding over you, and yet none of them are really your friends. And when you do meet someone, you have to wonder why they’re befriending you. Whether it’s because of Brock or because of you.”

“Aye. A lot o’ the lasses who’ve pretended to like me in the past were only after Brock’s attention.”

“But Mr. Heron was different.”

“He didna even ken who I was,