The Duke (Victorian Rebels, #4)

by Kerrigan Byrne

“You thought it might have been Lady Anstruther,” Argent finished. Trenwyth said nothing. Morley moved to stand next to Lady Broadmore and lifted his face to the window Trenwyth had indicated. “From this trajectory and distance, your conclusion is not remarkable. In fact, the resemblance between the deceased and Lady Anstruther is noteworthy in a case such as this.” “It … it is?” Appalled, Imogen had to force herself to look down at the slumberous expression forever frozen upon the poor woman’s features. “How so?” “You are both fair-haired and slight of build,” Argent assessed. “You wore dresses of comparable color.” “Not so.” She grasped for something, for anything to crush this ridiculous train of speculation. “If you remember, my gown was apricot, and hers is most decidedly coral.” She met a collection of blank stares and profusely cursed the entire male sex.