Page 14 of My Dearest Duke

Wait.

What?

Kingston’s casual perusal shot back to her stunning hair.

It couldn’t be.

Not here. Not now.

He only knew two women with hair that unusual, startling shade.

Gabriel’s mother and his minx of a sister—Vanessa Becket.

Her attention traveled up Kingston, climbing up his chest, past his chin until her gaze rested on his face. She gasped again, this time slapping a gloved hand across her slack mouth.

She’d recognized him too.

Even behind her mask, her eyes grew round as twin moons.

Those captivating eyes.

Amber. Not quite brown, but not quite gold either.

The color of warm, sweet honey.

Whisky. Brandy. Caramel.

Yes, golden-brown caramel, fringed with unexpectedly dark, sooty lashes.

Kingston closed his eyes—hoping, praying he was wrong, but knowing in his gut that he wasn’t.

His appointment with Mrs. Dorrian-Lane would have to wait. He couldn’t abandon Vanessa in this cesspit of immorality—not after what happened to Gabriel. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her, too.

Why in the Lord’s holy name was she in Fortuna?

An appalling thought cleaved him, cramping his lungs and squeezing his ribs in a crushing grip. For a horrifying instant, he thought the whisky might make a reappearance—all over Egeus’s feet.

Had, God forbid, Vanessa become a demimonde?

A courtesan?

Some paunchy, middling-aged, depraved lord’s mistress?

Kingston’s stomach lurched again, and he swallowed hard. Twice.

Had she been driven to sell herself after Gabriel’s death? Her stepfather had died some time ago, but what of her mother? Her stepbrother?

Was there no one to care for her?

A litany of thoughts shot around his mind, one right after the other, a cacophony of whats and whys he had no bloody answers to.

Egeus grunted, his suspicious gaze swinging between them. “You two know each other, Barclay?”

Vanessa’s tawny gaze flicked to the brute and then whisked back to Kingston.

They positively glowed with…?

What?