Even now, something in Alannah’s expression conveyed that the secret was still safe, that she wouldn’t be the one to expose it.
“Da, Mr. Knapp.” Zaira’s throat grew suddenly tight. “I have something to tell you.”
Mr. Knapp’s eyes were kind behind his spectacles. Did he already suspect the truth?
Da’s brows, on the other hand, only furrowed more deeply.
“You should know.” Zaira cleared her throat.“Iam K.S. Flanders.”
Everyone and everything seemed to go as silent as if she’d just shouted the news from the rooftop. Both Da and Kiernan stared at her with unblinking eyes. Mr. Knapp glanced between her da and her, perhaps waiting to see what Da’s reaction would be before making a comment.
She’d finally done it. She’d brought more scandal to the Shanahan name than all her other siblings combined. Everything within her wanted to shrivel up and disappear into the gravel of the alley.
Alannah, still holding her hand, pressed it gently. Her pretty features were tight with earnestness, encouraging her to say everything that needed to be said.
Zaira swallowed the fear threatening to suffocate her. She’d started down this difficult path of telling the truth, and she couldn’t stop now. She could only hope and pray that Da and Kiernan would be as understanding as Alannah, even as understanding as Bellamy.
She straightened her shoulders, then pushed forward with the rest of what she needed to say. “I’ve been writing and publishing weekly stories with theDaily Republicanunder a pseudonym: K.S. Flanders.”
Again, no one spoke. But the growing disappointment on Da’s face was easy to read.
She turned to Mr. Knapp. “I’m sorry for not being honest with you about my real identity.”
He just offered a small smile. “I have worked with other authors who’ve done the same.”
“Thank you.” She faced her da and brother. “I’m sorry—”
“Not now, Zaira.” Kiernan looked around at all the other men who were watching their family drama unfold. “We’ll discuss the matter later when we’re home.”
Da extended a hand toward Mr. Knapp. “I’ll take the manuscript.”
Mr. Knapp’s eyes seemed to ask what she wanted him to do.
She wished she could blurt out that her da couldn’t stop her, that she was old enough to make her own decisions. As much as she longed to be bolder and not worry about Da’s reaction, she couldn’t make herself protest.
Da reached for the manuscript and practically wrenched it from Mr. Knapp’s hands. Then he walked to the rubbish container beside the rear bank door, tossed the bundle of papers inside, and glared at her. “You’ll have some explaining to do, lass.”
She could only stare at the container. She’d suspected Da would be displeased with her unladylike pursuit and her sneaking around. But she hadn’t expected he would disregard her writing that rapidly and with such finality. Were all her dreams and hopes and plans just garbage to him?
A pulse of anger shot through her. If he could toss away something this important to her, then why had she cared about pleasing him for so long? Why not just walk over, pull out the manuscript, and hand it right back to Mr. Knapp?
Her fingers twitched with the desire to do so.
The rear door of the bank swung open, and one of the bank workers poked his head out and glanced around until he spotted her. “Miss Shanahan, Bellamy has regained consciousness, and he’s asking for you.”
The interruption was the perfect timing to avoid sayinganything else to her da, especially something she might regret later.
She didn’t waste another moment and made her way toward the rear entrance. Even if Bellamy didn’t want her for a wife, he was still asking for her. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
22
Astrange desperation raced through Bellamy. “You’re sure she’s unharmed?” he asked the doctor again.
The silver-haired man was packing the leather satchel beside him. “I didn’t personally examine her, but she claimed to be fine.”
Bellamy pushed up with his uninjured arm, making it to his elbow.
“Careful now.” The doctor eased Bellamy back to the hallway floor of the bank basement. “We’re getting ready to transport you soon.”
