Lady Kiera Darby and her dashing husband, Sebastian Gage, hope they’ve finally found peace after a tumultuous summer, but long-buried family secrets soon threaten to unravel their lives . . .
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Anna Lee Huber’s A Deceptive Composition, which is out now!
October 1832. Kiera is enjoying the slower pace of the English countryside. She, Sebastian, and their infant daughter have accompanied her father-in-law, Lord Gage, home so that he can recuperate from the injuries he sustained in a foiled attempt on his life. But as the chill of autumn sweeps across the land, they receive a summons from an unexpected quarter. Lord Gage’s estranged uncle—a member of the notorious Roscarrock family—has been murdered, and his family is desperate for answers. Despite Lord Gage’s protests, Kiera and Sebastian press on to Cornwall to assist.
It isn’t long before they discover that almost nothing is as it seems among the Roscarrocks, and they’ve been lured to their isolated cove under false pretenses. There are whispers of a lost treasure and frightening allusions to a series of murders stretching back decades that touch the lives of the family personally. Kiera and Sebastian are left with no choice but to uncover the truth before the secrets of the past threaten to destroy them all.
“I have been waiting to hear from Melbourne on a matter,” Lord Gage explained distractedly as he shuffled through his stack of correspondence.
I didn’t pry further. It was obvious how vexing he’d found it during his recuperation from his gunshot wound and near poisoning not to be able to resume his life in London these past few months. Letters were his only way to keep in touch with the powerful men who so often relied upon him.
A swift glance through my own missives revealed letters from my sister, Alana; Lorna, my friend and Gage’s cousin’s wife; and Eleanor, the new Lady Marsdale, though I suspected her rascal of a husband had also slipped in some sort of irreverent note, as usual. Thoughts of Eleanor brought to mind her brother, Lord Henry Kerr, who also happened to be Gage’s half-brother—the product of Lord Gage’s brief affair with the Duchess of Bowmont, Henry and Eleanor’s mother.
Gage’s discovery of Henry’s relation to him, and his father’s machinations to keep the matter from him, had been the main source of contention between father and son over the past year. A wound that was still healing. Henry had remained with us for most of the summer, even assisting to apprehend Lord Gage’s attackers. But he had returned to the estate of his acknowledged father—the Duke of Bowmont—at the end of August to assist with some matters troubling the large brood with whom he’d been raised. Henry had hoped to pay us a visit here before the end of the year, but it was nearly November and we’d heard little from him.
I leaned over, curious whether Gage had received a missive from his brother.
Realizing my intent, he offered me a tight smile. “Not today.”
I nodded, returning to my own correspondence. It was then that I noticed the taut silence issuing from my father-in-law. Peering up at his face, I noted the brackets of strain about his mouth and the intensity of his gaze as he stared down at one of the unopened letters in his hand. It was obvious something about it had unsettled him. His complexion even appeared paler.
Then, as I watched, his cheeks flushed and his fingers flexed around the missive, crumpling it almost into a ball as he turned his head to the side to look at the fire. My stomach dipped at this display of suppressed fury, but I couldn’t let it pass without saying something. Not when Lord Gage looked up at that moment and caught me watching him.
“What is it?” I murmured.
Gage stilled, glancing at me before turning to his father.
Lord Gage’s mouth twisted. “As tediously observant as always, I see,” he groused, but I didn’t take offense. Not when it was clear he was only venting his discomfort at having been studied in an unguarded moment.
“Who is it from?” I pressed softly. My eyes dipped to the letter still clasped between his fingers.
He stared me down for another moment, before transferring his gaze to his son. I thought he might refuse to answer, but then his eyes lowered to the missive as his fingers loosened their grip. “Amelia Killigrew.”
Gage and I exchanged a look.
“Who’s Amelia Killigrew?” he asked for us both.
Silence stretched again, broken only by the tick of the ormolu clock on the side table and Emma’s grunts and babbles.
“My aunt,” Lord Gage finally replied. His eyes when they lifted to meet ours shimmered with repressed emotions. “Her maiden name was Roscarrock.”
I straightened in realization. For Roscarrock was Lord Gage’s mother’s maiden name. He had long described them as smugglers and rogues, but two months prior he had elaborated upon this report. Not only were they smugglers and rogues in truth, but Lord Gage had been arrested at the tender age of eleven for taking part in their free trading. The magistrate overseeing his case had given him three options—go to prison, pay a hefty fine, or purchase a commission in the Royal Navy. His father had washed his hands of him, but his Grandfather Roscarrock had chosen the latter. So off Lord Gage went to begin what would prove to be a long and illustrious career in the navy, in return never speaking to his Roscarrock relatives ever again.
Or so he’d claimed.
Chapter 2
“I thought you had no communication with them,” I voiced in confusion.
“I don’t,” Lord Gage snapped, the sound loud in the still room. Loud enough to startle Emma, whose lip quivered for a moment as if she might burst into tears, before she settled again with her doll.
“Have they tried to communicate with you?” Gage asked, trying a different tact.
“Some years ago, yes. But not since…” His father broke off, turning away and leaving his thought unvoiced. “Not for some time.”
I tilted my head, curious what he was originally going to say.
He glanced down at the letter in thinly-veiled disgust. “I’m not sure why they’re writing me now.”
“You could open the letter and find out,” I coaxed, supplying the obvious answer.
Lord Gage scowled.
I knew he was ashamed of his past. His relationship with his sons—and me—had taken a large leap forward when he’d willingly shared it with us. I suspected it was the first time he’d spoken of it to anyone in decades. His fear of his past being revealed and destroying his reputation was genuine, and that dread was not unfounded. The upper echelon of British society was notoriously fickle. A person could be feted one day and then utterly shunned the next. But Lord Gage had confided in us, nonetheless, trusting us to keep his secret.
However, just because he’d taken us into his confidence did not mean he’d confronted any of the darker emotions associated with that incident. The guilt of knowing his friend had been shot and killed by the same customs officers who had arrested him. The pain of his father’s rejection. The anger at his grandfather and the Roscarrocks for exposing him to that life and not preventing him from coming to near ruin at such a young age. The shame of his having committed such a crime. In many ways, he was just as ashamed, angry, hurt, and guilt-ridden as he’d been at eleven; and those emotions had colored his life in ways he didn’t realize.
For his own sake, his past needed to be dealt with, and his relatives—at least, those still living—faced. Otherwise, that past would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days, however long that might be. The trouble was convincing my father-in-law of it.
“You must be at least a little curious what the letter says,” I prodded.
Lord Gage arched his chin. “Not in the slightest.”
I realized I should have anticipated just such a response from the stubborn man, no matter the evidence to the contrary.
“Surely you’re not intending to just toss it into the fire?” Gage queried with a furrowed brow.
I sat forward in alarm as my father-in-law dangled the missive between two fingers before him as if contemplating exactly that. “You can’t do that.”
Lord Gage arched a single eyebrow in sardonic challenge.
“What if it’s important?”
He scoffed. “I doubt it.”
“At least let me read it.”
His second eyebrow joined the first.
“Or Gage.” Perhaps that was more amenable.
Gage set aside his own letters. “She’s right, sir. We should at least discover what it says.” He held out his hand, urging his father to give it to him.
Lord Gage stared at it for a moment before heaving an aggrieved sigh. “If it will silence you both, I will read it.” He broke the seal with rather more force than necessary, crinkling the paper as he unfolded it. “Though, as I’ve said, I’m certain it’s a waste of time.”
I sat back in relief, trying not to stare as he began perusing the contents. Deep scores appeared between his eyes, etching his brow. His square jaw hardened, and his gaze bored into the paper like he was wielding a chisel. When he finished, lowering it to his lap to stare at the rug before him, I’d barely digested two sentences from my sister’s letter.
I didn’t speak, though I was dying to ask him what it said. Clearly its contents had not been a waste of time. Not if the somewhat stunned expression on his face was anything to judge by. Stunned and agitated.
“What is it?” Gage prodded this time.
“My Uncle Branok…” his father began haltingly.
I glanced at Gage, recalling that Branok had been one of the names of his Cornish ancestors he’d jestingly suggested we name our child when I was still expecting Emma.
“He became head of the family when my grandfather passed some years ago,” Lord Gage finished explaining, proving he was well-informed of at least some aspects of his Roscarrock relatives’ lives. “He died almost a week ago.”
My first thought was that this was sad, but it didn’t quite explain his reaction. However, he wasn’t finished.
“They…” He gestured with the letter. “Aunt Amelia—his sister, not his wife. She…and I suppose some of the others…” He fumbled his words. Something I’d never expected to witness my stern, collected father-in-law do. Inhaling a deep breath, he plowed onward. “She believes he was murdered.” His visage turned forbidding. “And she wants us to investigate.”
My eyes widened in surprise. Even after having investigated over a dozen murders, I still never expected it. I didn’t know whether that was a virtue or a failing on my part.
“May I?” Gage asked, not waiting for his father’s permission before rising to take the missive from his somewhat reluctant grasp.
He sat down beside me so that I might peruse the letter with him. It wasn’t long. Perhaps a dozen lines in a small, spidery script.
“She does more than ask,” Gage said. “She essentially begs us to come. Clearly, she’s aware of our presence here with you.” There was a question in his voice.
Excerpted from A Deceptive Composition by Anna Lee Huber Copyright © 2024 by Anna Lee Huber. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
