What an Earl Wants Read Online Free PDF

she pushed up her spectacles and sat back. Papers rustled beneath her as she crossed her legs.
    Guiding his weak leg with both hands, he assumed the same position. Blood began to flow back into the limb. Another minute or two and he’d be able to rise with his dignity intact. Angry, but dignified.
    “What now?” She calmly waited. No tears. No wailing.
    Damn. He was more disturbed than she was. Well, hell, he was the one who’d been shocked, not her—she knew about her disguise.
    Quincy entwined her trembling fingers, the first sign of nervousness he’d observed.
    Maybe he had disturbed her after all. He sat up straighter. “What now? Now you collect your things, miss, and leave. Before I send for the Watch.”
    She inhaled, intent on arguing, he was sure, but suddenly let it out on a sigh. A sigh of defeat. Now, why did that sting? He should be glad.
    “Very well.” Her cheeks suddenly flushed again. “I’ve already spent the ten-shilling advance. You’ll have to wait until I secure another position before I can pay you back. Minus the prorated portion for yesterday and today’s work, of course.”
    “Work?” He glanced around the room. In two days, all Quincy had done was sort through his mail. And rearrange his library, organize papers into who-knows-what-for piles, coerce his housekeeper into doing tasks she hadn’t done in years, and…
    And make his mother wear yellow. Make her laugh.
    Some of his righteous anger melted away, despite his efforts to draw it back around him like a cloak. Quincy had tricked him, had lied by omission.
    But she had also made his mother smile. And ask to go dancing.
    Damn.
    “Yes, my work. I was just about to tell you what I had found. The confusing entries that I mentioned earlier? I solved the puzzle. Well, part of it. We’re sitting on the evidence.”
    Sinclair glanced at the piles around them on the floor, and back at Quincy. “Evidence of what?”
    “Johnson, your previous secretary, handled all of your accounting?”
    “Yes. What of it?”
    “He embezzled from you.”
    Breath left Sinclair’s chest in a rush. “Embezzled?” The anger returned in full force, centering him, clearing his thoughts. He leaned forward, his voice a growl. “Prove it.”
    Quincy didn’t even flinch. “He did it in small increments, so you wouldn’t be as likely to catch on.” She grabbed the top sheet from a nearby stack, and opened a ledger. “Here’s one example. See this receipt for brandy? Monsieur Beauvais delivered two cases, but the ledger shows payment for four.”
    “Didn’t Beauvais simply deliver two more cases?”
    “There’s no receipt indicating that. How long has Harper worked for you? Is he reliable?”
    “He’s been our butler since I was in short coats. Of course he’s reliable.” Sinclair struggled to his feet, needing to move, to do something. “But I thought Johnson reliable, too. No wonder he and his bride were in such a bloody hurry to join his cousin in America.”
    Quincy rose, as well. “They’ve left the country?”
    Sinclair looked at her sharply. “How much is missing? More than this petty theft?” He gestured at the receipt in her hand.
    Quincy paused, obviously choosing her words carefully. “My lord, if I were willing to steal from you in this manner, knowing this ‘petty theft’ was enough to get me hanged if caught, then I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to steal on a grander scale. Hung for a sheep, and all that.”
    “Damn!” Sinclair stalked to the door and yanked it open. “Harper!” he shouted. “I want an inventory of—”
    “My lord, wait,” Quincy interrupted. “Any items Johnson might have taken would have been discovered by now.”
    “Not him, Miss Quincy. The maid, his bride! She had access to the silver, to the entire household.” He finished giving instructions to the butler, then closed the door and began to pace. “Misbegotten son of a—”
    “I was thinking more along the lines of your properties, your