The Last Wicked Scoundrel Read Online Free PDF Page A

that began to rise to the fore. It was then that she started discussing her plans to build a hospital as a way to repay him for his kindness. He loved the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of different aspects she planned to include. Her excitement was contagious, and for the first time in his life, he’d wondered if he had punished himself enough, if he were finally deserving of love.
    His musings were interrupted by a knock at his door. He thought nothing of it as he was accustomed to visitors at all hours of the night. The arrival of illness and injuries were not dictated by the ticking of a clock. With haste, he set aside his tumbler, got up, and marched to the door. Opening it, he stared at his visitor. “Winnie?”
    “I need to talk to you straightaway.”
    A pelisse was draped over her shoulders. Her hair was braided. If not for the trepidation in her features, he might have been distracted by thoughts of unraveling the strands. “Yes, of course, come in.”
    As she stepped through the portal, he caught a glimpse of her carriage in the street. The fog was beginning to roll in. All seemed quiet, but then considering the hour he hadn’t expected anything else. Closing the door, he led her into the parlor. “Please sit down.”
    She took a chair near the fire. Kneeling in front of her, he took her hands. He could feel the tiny tremors cascading through her. “My God, you’re like ice.”
    “I didn’t know where else to come.” She lifted tear filled eyes to him. “I believe I’m going mad.”
    “Why ever would you think that?”
    Pulling her hands free of his, she reached into her reticule, removed something, then slowly unfurled her fingers to reveal a necklace of sapphires. “I found it beneath my pillow.”
    “You’re going to tell me everything, but first we have to stop your trembling.”
    Straightening, he went to a table set against a wall and poured whiskey into a glass. He wished he had something a bit more elegant for her, but as he rarely had visitors other than those seeking he come with them posthaste, he didn’t bother with having an assortment of liquor on hand. Whiskey served his needs and when people were upset and in want of something more than his words, it usually served theirs.
    He had invited her to come here for an examination because he had an examination room here, and he’d thought she’d be more comfortable talking candidly away from her residence. It harbored far too many bad memories.
    He crossed back over and handed her the glass. With a grateful nod, she took his offering and sipped. He suspected she was too upset to fully take notice of the fire going down, but hopefully it would serve to warm her.
    Taking the chair opposite hers, he studied her for a moment. She was pale, far too pale, although he could see a hint of color returning to her cheeks. He understood now why her hair was braided. Having found the item beneath her pillow, she had no doubt retired for the night. He fought not to distract himself with images of her in the bed.
    “Now tell me about the necklace,” he urged quietly.
    “I told you about it in the garden, how it wasn’t in the safe. As I was settling into bed, I slipped my hand beneath the pillow. I discovered it there. Why would anyone put it there?”
    Leaning forward, elbows on thighs, he worked to think things through. He wasn’t nearly as good with this deciphering motives business as Swindler. He was better at determining the cause of fevers, illnesses, and injuries. “Perhaps someone had taken it from the safe, heard you coming, and slipped it under the pillow to retrieve later.”
    “A servant? Why would they begin stealing from me now?”
    “Gambling debts, perhaps. Maybe they fell in with a rough lot on their day off.”
    “I’m afraid I did it.” She rubbed her brow. “As I mentioned in the garden, I’ve experienced some bouts of forgetfulness. I’ve been misplacing a lot of things lately. A book on the table beside my