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

rug with her hands clenched into fists before turning on her heel to once again face me. “Don’t you understand? They only view all this as proof they were right about you all along. That this is your due.”

I stiffened, shocked to hear her state such a thing so baldly. I knew there were people who didn’t like me, who were determined to think the worst of me simply because I’d never seemed to be able to behave in the prescribed manner, especially when I was younger. In general, I didn’t like balls and soirees, or fashion, or small talk. I didn’t care for the same things that other young ladies seemed to. But most people who genuinely tried to get to know me seemed to like me well enough. It was merely my public awkwardness which repelled or offended people. But Alana was implying it went deeper than that.

“When the scandal about your involvement with Sir Anthony came to light, they expected you to go into hiding, to live out the rest of your days meek and remorseful,” she continued, mistaking my astonishment for confusion. “And you did, for a time. But you proved yourself to be stronger and more resilient than they could have ever imagined. I was so proud of you for that.” She sat beside me, taking hold of my hand. Her face softened. “You regained your footing, and you embarked on these investigations with Gage, and I encouraged it because I thought it was helping. And it did. And your courage was rewarded when Gage fell in love with you, giving you a second chance at the life you should have had all along.”

“But . . . ?” I prompted, unwilling to be mollified by her display of affection when I knew there were more hurtful things to come.

“But there are those who think it’s unfair that you were rewarded for your unorthodox behavior. They would like nothing more than to see you receive your just deserts. And help that along, if necessary.”

“And you?” I asked, feeling a heaviness in my heart. “What do you think?”

She reared back as if I’d slapped her. “How can you even ask that? I’ve supported you in everything. Championed you. Encouraged your relationship with Gage. Even praised your inquiry efforts.”

“Until now.”

“Yes, but that’s different.”

“Because I’m going to be a mother?”

“Yes. You can’t merely be thinking of yourself now. You have your child to consider.”

I clasped my hands together in my lap, staring at the swirled pattern of the rug before me. “Even though I’m simply trying to make the world a better, safer, fairer place? For my child? For my nieces and nephews? For everyone?”

“Well, I . . . that’s not your place now.”

“Yes, but isn’t it? If it’s not a mother’s place, then whose is it?” I turned to look my sister straight in the eye, allowing her to see all the hurt her words had caused me, both those spoken and only hinted at. “I don’t solve murders for a lark, Alana. I do it because someone has to see that the truth is brought to light. Yes, I could leave the task to others, but I happen to be very good at it.” I pressed a hand to my abdomen. “If my child has something he, or she, is good at, something that benefits society—whether it’s painting, or growing plants, or studying the stars, or unmasking criminals—I would hope I would encourage them to do it. I would hope I would be proud of them for it.”

“And if you’re not around to do so?” Alana snapped, pushing to her feet. “If one of these murderers catches you before you catch them, what then?”

I stared back at her evenly. “I can understand your fear, Alana. But that’s not what’s making you lash out at me so angrily. That’s not what’s kept us at odds these past two and a half months.”

“No, it’s because you won’t listen!”

“No, it’s because I won’t do what you want. I hear you perfectly well, Alana.”

My calm only seemed to infuriate her more.

“Fine. Do whatever you want,” she exploded. “Get yourself killed. Just don’t expect me to mourn you.” She turned to stomp from the room.

“Alana, wait,” I called after her, waiting until she turned to look at me. “What if the life I’ve led, the entire life, was the one I was supposed to have all along? The good and the bad.” I held up a hand. “I’m not saying I’m glad Sir Anthony mistreated me or that Will had to die as he did, or that God wished for any of it to happen. But . . . what if it was the only way I could become who I am right now? What if it was the only way I could become the mother this child needs?” I breathed deeply, feeling something loosen inside me, some deep source of pain I’d been harboring. “Then, I can accept that.”

Alana stood there frowning, and I could tell she was considering what I’d said.

So I decided to press my advantage. “Do you remember how our grandmother used to say, ‘Just because that’s the way things are, doesn’t mean that’s the way they always have to be’?” I shrugged one shoulder, hoping she inferred from that what I was trying to say.

The movement caused a few tendrils of my hair to slip from their pins and cascade down around my neck. Something my unruly tresses were forever doing, being too thick and heavy to behave. I reached back to fix them, stabbing the pin they’d fallen from into my scalp, but that wasn’t enough to erase Alana’s suddenly fierce scowl.

“Did Bonnie Brock stay with you last May, just a fortnight after your wedding?”

I stilled at this accusation, shocked into silence.

She advanced closer. “Did you truly enter his room with your hair down?”

“Who told you that?” I demanded, scrambling to comprehend how she could know about that. Of course, it was framed in the most terrible light possible. Bonnie Brock had been poisoned, barely able