The Lost Duke

"We’re looking for him.” John pointed up the stairs to the portrait hanging proudly against the wall. It was blackened and torn in places, but two faces, one of a pretty woman and one of a dark haired boy remained unmarred, staring blankly out into the night.

The boy’s eyebrows knitted together. “A royal?”

Lestrade huffed. “The lost duke, yes. Haven’t you heard of him?”