Winner of the CWA Historical Dagger Award A Publishers Weekly Top Ten Crime/Mystery Novel of 2016   “Historical fiction just doesn’t get any better than this.” — Jeffery Deaver “A rip-roaring ride . . . Wonderfully atmospheric and entertaining.” — Good Housekeeping   “Impeccably researched and astonishingly atmospheric . . . Truly spellbinding.” — Guardian   London, 1728. Tom Hawkins is headed to the gallows, accused of murder. Gentlemen don’t hang, and Tom’s damned if he’ll be the first—he is innocent, after all. It’s hard to say when Tom’s troubles began. He was happily living in sin with his beloved—though their neighbors weren’t happy about that. He probably shouldn’t have told London’s great criminal mastermind that he was in need of adventure. Nor should he have joined the king’s mistress in her fight against her vindictive husband. And he definitely shouldn’t have trusted the calculating Queen Caroline. She’s promised him a royal pardon if he holds his tongue, but there’s nothing more silent than a hanged man. Now Tom’s scrambling to save his life and protect those he loves. But as the noose tightens, his time is running out.   “Hodgson maintains pitch-perfect suspense, craftily constructs a fairly clued whodunit, and convincingly evokes the period . . . [This book] solidifies her position as a major talent in the genre.” — Publishers Weekly, starred review   "The flavor of a good mystery...Hodgson (editor-in-chief of Little, Brown U.K.) even introduces a clever narrative strategy... Chock full of intrigue, heroism, wickedness…and even some redemption. A fun historical read."— Kirkus , starred review “Hodgson has provided another pell-mell romp through the top and bottom of English society, as seen through the eyes of a gentleman who is both a rogue and a naïf. Those who relish their historical action fast and vivid will enjoy the second installment of Hawkins's misadventures.”— Library Journal , starred review “As good as her stellar debut...Hodgson maintains pitch-perfect suspense, craftily constructs a fairly clued whodunit, and convincingly evokes the period. This second novel by the editor-in-chief at Little, Brown U.K. solidifies her position as a major talent in the genre.”— Publishers Weekly , starred review “With a dramatic storytelling style that includes many unsavory characters, Hodgson keeps readers on tenterhooks as Hawkins nears the gallows. Suspenseful and filled with witty dialogue, this series is reminiscent of James McGee’s atmospheric Matthew Hawkwood novels and has the descriptive appeal of Sara Stockbridge’s Victorian mystery Grace Hammer. “— Booklist ANTONIA HODGSON is the editor-in-chief at Little, Brown UK. Her first novel, The Devil in the Marshalsea, won the CWA Historical Dagger Award in 2014. It was also short-listed for the CWA First Book Award and was named one of the top ten mystery thrillers of 2014 by Publishers Weekly . Antonia lives in London. The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins By Antonia Hodgson Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company Copyright © 2015 Antonia Hodgson All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-544-94438-1 CHAPTER 1 It began with a scream in the dark. It was early January and I was limping my way home through Covent Garden. No longer the dead of night, not yet morning, but the secret hours before dawn, when rakes tiptoe from tight-shuttered bedrooms, and thieves slink back to the slums of St Giles. A time when good, respectable men are fast asleep, their houses barred and locked. Long, uncounted hours earlier I had slipped out for a bowl of punch and a game of cards. I won three guineas. Such things must be celebrated. I bought a late supper for a ragged band of new friends, and a good deal more punch. The night continued. I spent the three guineas. Then I spent some more. At some point, I lost a shoe. The first of the market traders were dragging their carts into the piazza, hunched double against the cold. They swung their lanterns into the shadows, searching for their allotted place. I saluted one or two as I passed, but didn't linger. The weather was dismal yet again, the air damp enough to leave its trace upon my skin. Still — at least it wasn't raining. In fact, given that I had lost my shoe and my winnings, I was in a remarkably cheerful mood. I pulled out my silver watch and held it up to the moonlight. Almost five o'clock. Kitty would be at least half-awake by now; she preferred to rise early. We enjoyed such different hours it was a wonder we had ever met. I imagined her now, taming her wild copper curls with pins. Perhaps I would untame them again, pull out the pins and let her hair spill down over her shoulders. Or perhaps she would shout at me for staying out all night again. Yes, now I thought of it, that was more likely. Kitty had a fearsome temper. When the meek inherit the earth, she will be left quite out of pocket. We had met the previous autumn, when I was thrown in the Marshalsea for de