Confessions of a Scoundrel Read Online Free

lucky star. No matter what, our paths are made.”
    Though she didn’t believe his bravado for aninstant, Verena had to smile back at him. She knew his faults too well—most of them mirrored her own. Impatience, an endless thirst for excitement, and a deeply rooted dislike of being ordered about. “I wish you’d at least stay in my guest bedchamber.”
    â€œNo one knows I’m your brother and I’d like to keep it that way. It’s for your own good.”
    â€œIf I had a reputation to protect, I might agree with you. But I don’t, thanks to Andrew’s father.”
    James’s smile faded at the mention of the Earl of Rutland. “Is he still set on destroying your peace?”
    â€œEvery chance he gets,” she replied lightly, though the effort cost her. She’d always known that Andrew’s father hadn’t liked her, but she hadn’t realized the extent of the old man’s feelings until after Andrew’s death. Unknown to her, Andrew had been shielding her from bitter comments, vile rumors, and more.
    Once he was gone, his father went unchecked, doing what he could to see to it that Verena became a social pariah, unwelcome except in the lowest levels of London society.
    He’d thought to chase her from town, to remove her from Westforth House. But Verena had dug in her heels and instead of fleeing, had made a place for herself among the demimonde and turned Westforth House into the home she’d never had.
    â€œDamn Rutland,” James said. “I’d skewer his gizzard on my sword if I thought it would help.” He absently dealt the cards into four hands on the small table. “Ver…are you happy?”
    â€œOf course I am. Why do you ask?”
    â€œI don’t know. It just seems that you’re…well, you’re far too much alone.” James sighed and set the cards on the table. “Do you still miss Andrew?”
    â€œEvery day.” She said the words simply and was pleased to note that she only felt the briefest twinge of sadness. Andrew’s life had been short and brilliant, a star flashing across the sky then disappearing from sight. He’d left her very little on his death except a heart full of memories and the deed to Westforth House. But those things were worth more than she could say. “I think I miss his laughter the most of all.”
    â€œThat’s one thing I’ll give your late husband,” James said, his voice touched with envy. “He enjoyed every minute of his life. I hope the same can be said about me once I’m gone.”
    There was something wistful about the way James said that. Verena eyed him narrowly. “That’s it. Tell me what’s wrong.”
    â€œVer, don’t—”
    â€œ Now , James. Or I’ll write to Father and tell him you seem very out of sorts and could use a visit.”
    James’s eyes flashed. “You wouldn’t!”
    â€œTry me.”
    He rubbed a hand over his chin, a childhood habit that usually meant he was puzzling through some thorny problem. “Perhaps I just came to see how you’re getting on.”
    â€œAnd perhaps Father really is a Russian grand duke, as he loves to tell everyone.”
    â€œI don’t have anything to tell you, thank you,” James said, reaching into his pocket as if to drawout his watch. “Do we have time to play a game before the carriage—” He pulled his hand from his pocket, his brow lowering. “ Damn !”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œMy watch. It’s gone. I had it when I climbed from the carriage because I distinctly remember checking the time and—”
    â€œBlast,” Verena muttered. She marched to the bell pull and tugged it with more force than necessary.
    â€œVer, what are you—”
    â€œJust wait.” She crossed her arms and stared at the door.
    Within seconds, a tall, cadaverously thin individual opened the