Duke of Dishonor (Lords of Scandal 11)

This was the man he’d been searching for. Maestro.

Of course, he didn’t know Maestro’s real identity but…he’d find out soon enough.

For a brief moment, he considered ringing the bell. Announce himself, not under his alias, but his real name, The Duke of Winston.

Then he looked down at himself.

A day and half of no rest and skulking in the shadows had not done much for his appearance.

He knew where to find the man now, and so he took out his notebook and beneath the location of each drop box, he added the address. Then he circled it. Then, he circled it again.

Finally, he slipped into the shadows. He had another stop to make before he could finally go to bed, The Den of Sins.

A gaming hell back on the other side of town. Tucked into the mean streets of the East End, the place made its owners a small fortune, including the Duke of Devonhall and Marquess of Milton. These men who could help him in more ways than one.

Devonhall was Emily’s guardian. He’d keep her safe.

His insides twisted again at the idea of not guarding her himself. But he’d clear his name first. That was essential. And the two men could help him with that as well.

They had connections with the crown. Could get him an audience.

He rubbed his head trying to remember exactly what the men fencing goods had said last night. How imminent was the danger?

Sick dread began to pool in his stomach. Or was that exhaustion?

Leaving Hill Street, he flagged down a hack and called out the address on the other side of town. The driver gave him a skeptical glance, his eyes trailing over Brandon’s shabby appearance until Brandon flashed his pouch of coins.

Brandon climbed in the carriage and they started off, weaving through the busy streets. As the carriage rocked, he drifted off to sleep, succumbing to the heaviness that pulled at his eyelids. They popp

ed open again when they reached the Den of Sins, and he peeled himself off the seat, then paid the driver.

As he entered the establishment, dark red curtains covered many of the doors, making the room feel even smaller than it was.

Men’s voices rang in the air.

He recognized Isabella at one of the tables. She was dressed as a man and dealing cards. He quirked a brow. A duchess dealing cards?

But he remembered playing at her table once, she had an uncanny ability to win.

Her eyes met his and he jolted. He’d never realized how like Emily’s they were. It stabbed him to think that he hadn’t come sooner. What if Emily were in danger right this moment?

What if those men meant they’d try to steal her tonight?

Eliza stepped out from behind a curtain, her husband and her brother-in-law close behind.

He ran a quick hand through his hair. It was very likely a mess.

“You finally showed,” Bash growled trying to get around Eliza. For a slip of a woman, she did a remarkable job of holding him back.

“We have questions,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring fiercely. “About you, your partner…”

He stood up straighter. This was not a public conversation. “I’m sure you have questions. I am sincerely hoping to answer them in a carriage as we travel to Decadence’s home. There is a danger to Emily and Abigail, and I’d feel better if we were there or en route rather than here. Just in case.”

Menace scrubbed his scalp with his hand. “I told you he’d surface when there was a threat.”

Brandon raised his brows. An ally? Potentially.

Decadence narrowed his gaze, his dark eyes flashing. A large man, and a duke, he was a formidable opponent when he chose to be. “How do we know this isn’t a trap?”