Page 9 of My Dearest Duke

Had Owen truly blown through his entire inheritance in the five years since his father’s death?

What about Patrick Elligon’s business ventures?

Had Owen bankrupted them as she’d heard whispered before people averted their eyes and scurried away?

How could a man be so reckless and irresponsible?

Anger and frustration also pummeled Vanessa that after Mama’s death, and Vanessa had opened her Berkeley Square house and moved in, Owen had promptly taken it upon himself to monitor her every movement. Even having the impudence to suggest that as her only male relative, he was her guardian now, though she was of age.

Pompous windbag.

Why, the blackguard had even tried to ensconce himself at number fourteen, Berkeley Square, claiming an unmarried young woman shouldn’t live alone.

The truth was, he probably had to sell his residence or couldn’t afford his staff’s wages since Mama wasn’t paying the household expenses anymore. Or perhaps because, without a jot of compunction, Vanessa had taken the best servants with her.

However, the house was Vanessa’s, left to her by her grandmother, and she assuredly did not want Owen’s company—thank you very much. She’d endured sixteen years of his annoying presence after Mama had wed Patrick Elligon, thrusting Vanessa and Gabriel into the role of unwanted siblings to a spoiled, self-centered Owen.

An only child, four years her senior and two years younger than Gabriel, he’d been nothing short of hateful to her and especially Gabriel from the moment their parents married. She’d been heartily glad when Owen was away at school. Of course, he was sent down so often for bad behavior that it was a wonder he’d even received a modicum of education.

She eyed the gambling hell where she’d followed her stepbrother these past few days, always accompanied by a nervous Daisy Struthers and disapproving Leroy Gaines as Vanessa developed, considered, and discarded one plan after another.

Truth be told, the theft of her sapphire brooch had been the catalyst that prompted tonight’s bold scheme, the wisdom of which she still doubted.

Filling her lungs with a fortifying breath, she squared her shoulders and adjusted the black satin domino covering the upper half of her face. Her black elbow-length silk gloves followed. The flowing folds of her cloak hid a heavy purse. For she knew full well that a coin or two slipped into a palm proved the right incentive to be quite accommodating.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be, but wait for me,” she told the servants, silently praying she could be in and out of Fortuna in short order.

Only if the sapphire and diamond brooch couldn’t be located.

Which, quite frankly, was a genuine possibility. A probability, in point of fact, and her stomach sank at the admission.

Still, Owen must learn she meant what she said. Vanessa would pursue charges against him. If only to force him to keep his distance from her once and for all. She harbored no doubts that he’d see her committed and then attempt to finagle some sort of court directive naming him her guardian so he could make free with her fortune.

Would Owen go so far as to see her dead?

Honestly, she wasn’t optimistic he wouldn’t take such nefarious measures. He’d find himself sorely disenchanted if he thought to inherit, however. She’d bestowed generous settlements on her staff, but the remainder of her estate was bequeathed to charity.

Quite naturally, if there was a spy amongst her servants—and she very much suspected there was—she’d need to expose the rotter and update her will, revoking his or her inheritance.

“I may be some time,” she reiterated to the servants opposite her, their disapproving silence as loud as a tolling church bell. They’d been against this venture from the start, and Vanessa couldn’t help but be touched by their protectiveness.

“Some time?” Daisy mumbled, her question sounding a death knell.

She made a little sound of distress, and Vanessa bit the inside of her cheek to quell the surge of trepidation her own statement had induced. Inhaling and exhaling thrice, she brought her chaotic pulse under control. “Depending on how swiftly I can locate Owen, that is.”

And determine if he’d already pawned or wagered her brooch. Which meant she’d have to leave the areas designated for ladies' usage within the gambling hell. Gaines had provided her with a sketch of the floor plan obtained from the same disloyal kitchen servant.

Vanessa could only hope the etching was accurate. She hoped to see Owen from the ladies’ observation gallery. Then, she’d either use the servants’ stairs to make her way to the gentlemen’s area or walk around the building to the kitchens and reenter Fortuna that way.

The kitchens were nearest the main gambling floor.

Vanessa caught her lower lip between her teeth.

Mayhap she ought to go straight there?

No, she might be caught before she located Owen.

If he’d already transferred ownership of her brooch, she’d demand it back, or the person who possessed it would be named as an accessory to theft.