A Wicked Conceit, Anna Huber [best e book reader txt] 📗

but he still liked me.” Her voice conveyed that this was almost a wondrous thing.

“So he says,” her brother grumbled beneath his breath.

I turned to glower at him, for he was missing the reason for this confession.

“Did Mr. Heron tell you who he was tricked into telling?” I asked, harking back to an earlier statement.

She lifted her hands in a futile gesture. “I asked, but he said it was safer if I didna ken.”

Bonne Brock made a noise between a harrumph and a growl, and I couldn’t say I disagreed with him. It sounded like Heron had been protecting himself more than he’d been protecting Maggie.

But now that we knew how Mugdock had learned about Bonnie Brock’s past, I wanted to know why Bonnie Brock had chosen to conceal an important piece of information from us, lest he think his sister was the only person who had lied by omission.

“Gage and I have been puzzling and puzzling, trying to figure out why on earth the author of The King of Grassmarket chose such an odd surname. Mugdock.” I tapped my chin, pretending to ruminate on the answer. “It’s not exactly common.”

Maggie glanced at her brother ruefully, though his face remained stoic.

“But then last night we learned of the existence of a Mugdock Castle. One where curiously your mother was born. And yet you didn’t see fit to tell us?” I snapped the last, enunciating harshly.

But Bonnie Brock was unmoved by guilt, his scowl remaining as black as ever. “Aye. And what’s that to do with anythin’?”

I glanced at Gage to see if he shared my exasperation. “Obviously it was chosen to rub salt into the wound, for the man has a vendetta against you. The question is, why? Why strike out at you through that book? Why try to damage your reputation among the populace of Edinburgh? Why use your mother’s birthplace as his pen name?”

Brock’s gaze dipped to the table as if actually giving these questions some consideration.

“What is his goal? What does he gain?” I persisted.

But neither Brock nor Maggie—who watched him silently, following his lead—offered any answers.

“Brock, who is your father?” I demanded to know. “Does the Lennox family have anything to do with this?”

He looked up at me then, scrutinizing me as if I were the one under interrogation and not him. “Are ye thinkin’ that printer named Lennox is involved?”

I wanted to bite my tongue for offering him any piece of information, particularly when I knew he was bound to thrash the person and ask questions later.

“Oh, aye. I ken you’ve been to his shop more than once.”

Of course he had.

“We don’t know what to think,” Gage groused, answering for me. “Lennox worked for Rookwood. He printed The King of Grassmarket. But the name Lennox also keeps cropping up in relation to your mother. Rumor has it your father was her cousin, possibly a Lennox. And since you won’t share with us what, if anything, the name Lennox has to do with all of this, we can’t tell for certain whether the printer is pertinent or not. There are, after all, a lot of Scots named Lennox.”

Bonnie Brock’s voice rang with quiet menace. “Then I’ll just have to find oot for ye.”

“No, you won’t,” Gage stated in a tone that would not brook disobedience, and I could practically see Brock’s hackles rise in response. “You will stay away from Lennox and Heron and let us question them. In addition to being Mugdock, one of them could very well be a murderer.”

Maggie gasped in objection to Heron being called such, but Gage ignored her.

“We won’t be able to uncover the truth, recover the sequel, and clear your name if you go about pummeling people, or worse, killing them. You have to stay out of this. For now,” he added in appeasement.

Regrettably, we had no way of forcing him to listen, and the stubborn clamp of his jaw told me he was already planning on confronting both men. My anger, which I’d kept tamped down through so much of this ordeal, suddenly reared its head.

“Fiend seize it,” I snapped, borrowing Gage’s favorite curse. “You bloody blackguard! Do you know what you’ve put me through? Do you think I enjoy being winked at and observed slyly from the side, as if I’ve done something wrong? This is your fault.” I stabbed my finger at Brock, advancing on him. “If you hadn’t abducted me from the theater, or insinuated yourself into our lives, or provoked yet another person into wanting revenge against you, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.” Gage reached out to restrain me before I got too close, and I stamped my foot in emphasis. “And I am not going to allow my child to be born into the world with people believing I cuckolded my husband simply because you can’t be made to see reason. So for once in your life, listen to directions and stay out of it. So we can fix this mess you’ve gotten us into.”

I glared up at Bonnie Brock, making sure he understood how serious I was. But far from being chastened or intimidated, he actually smiled.

“No’ just a bloodthirsty wench, you’re also a hellcat,” he quipped, his gaze roaming over my face. “Best get your wife away from me, Gage, or I really will kiss her.”

“Try it and I’ll scratch your eyes out,” I hissed as Gage pulled me farther away.

“That’s enough, Kincaid,” Gage reproached. “She’s right. You’ve been a selfish wretch through all of this. The least you can do is help instead of hinder us.”

I turned away, unable to stomach the sight of him after he’d treated me so shockingly, and with no remorse.

“So be it,” he grumbled a few moments later. “I’ll stay away for a day or two. But after that, I’ll make no promises.”

“Two,” Gage demanded, knowing full well that Brock would grant us the smallest concession possible.

“Aye, two.”

I looked to the side at Maggie, still unwilling to face her brother. “Perhaps you should stay