Page 13 of Devoted to the Spanish Duke
The final pistol was lowered.
Sir Stephen Moore hurried down the stairs to embrace him. Lisandro accepted the hug with good grace. For a man who dealt in blackmail and death, the Englishman was surprisingly effusive.
“The Duke of Tolosa. What brings you here?” he asked. As he asked the question, Stephen’s gaze roamed over Lisandro’s tatty coat and battered hat, taking it all in. True to form, it seemed he missed nothing.
“An important mission—one which means the difference between safely returning a young Spanish noblewoman to her family and having a very difficult conversation with them,” he replied.
Stephen nodded. “Then you had better come inside.” He turned to the boy. “Toby, go upstairs and arrange a pillow and blankets for Don de Aguirre. He will be staying with us.”
The young boy screwed up his face. “What was his name?”
Lisandro beckoned the boy to come over. “I am the Duke of Tolosa. If I was English, you would call me Lord Tolosa, but because I am Spanish, I am Don Tolosa. Also, Don de Aguirre. But you may call me Lisandro if that makes it easier.”
Toby might have been confused about the names and titles, but the lad was clearly not a fool. He dipped into a low, respectful bow. “May I take your bag, Lisandro?”
“No, I am happy to carry it myself. But if you know where I can get a strong cup of coffee, I would be forever in your debt, young Toby,” replied Lisandro.
The boy scampered off in the direction of the nearby stairs and took them two at a time.
Lisandro waited until he had gotten to the top before turning to speak to Stephen. “I need to find the people who have taken this noblewoman, and quickly. To say I have little to go on is an understatement.”
“Come upstairs and let’s see what we can do.”
If anyone in London was going to be able to help it was one of the gentlemen who had been pointing a gun at him only a few minutes ago. With a spark of relief in his heart, Lisandro followed Sir Stephen up to the offices of the RR Coaching Company—Rogues of the Road.
Inside, he was greeted by two of the others: Lord Harry Steele and Mister Augustus Trajan Jones. Lord Harry had a well-earned reputation for causing scandals in London high society, while Gus’s career as a smuggler necessitated him keeping a lower profile.
“Where is the Duke of Monsale?” asked Lisandro. He needed as much help as he could possibly get in order to locate Maria’s whereabouts.
“Monsale is at his country estate overseeing the planting of new crops,” replied Harry.
Lisandro nodded. “I should be doing that too. The wheat was almost done by the time I left Tolosa, and hopefully they will be getting the barley field ready now. And what about George?”
“George is . . . well, let’s just say he is keeping a low profile at present. A little thieving job went awry a month back, and he nearly got caught. It shook him up quite badly,” said Gus.
When no one else added to the story, Lisandro let it go. The Honorable George Hawkins was a master thief. If he had come close to being nabbed during a robbery, it must have been a risky one.
Lisandro held out his hand to Harry. “And congratulations on your marriage; it was lovely to hear you had taken on a wife.”
Harry grinned. “Thank you. Fatherhood is the next adventure looming in my future. Alice is with child.”
“Well then, double congratulations,” replied Lisandro.
After dropping his bag onto the long well-worn table which sat in the middle of the room, Lisandro searched inside it for his notebook. He took a seat as Toby appeared from another room, bearing a large cup. The boy set it in front of him, then bowed and stepped back.
“Thank you, Master Toby. You may go resume the task of mucking out the stables,” said Stephen.
With the boy gone, they got to work. Lisandro explained the unexpected visit from Diego de Elizondo, and his own trip to Zarautz, as well as the conversation he’d had with the drunk in the doorway. He also showed them the note about the boat and made mention of the Englishman, Mister Wicker, who had been in the tavern.
At the end of it all, he sighed and reached for his rapidly cooling coffee.
“Bloody hell, that’s a king’s ransom. Though it is odd that they asked for a smaller amount at first and then didn’t release Maria,” said Harry.
Sir Stephen picked up the ransom note. “I am not that concerned about the money, but this Señor Alba is most definitely of interest. If he came to England with Maria, then he might well be our best chance at finding her.”
Lisandro had gone down a similar road with his own thoughts, but he had reached a dead end. Having a name meant little in a bustling city of more than a million inhabitants.
A sly smile crept to Stephen’s lips. “Lisandro, when was the last time you went to church?”
