Page 7 of Devoted to the Spanish Duke
From his saddlebag, Lisandro produced a spyglass and trained it on the moving dust. It was a carriage, headed at speed toward Castle Tolosa. He couldn’t quite make out the markings on the side; they appeared to be covered with black cloth.
Odd.
He gritted his teeth. In his experience, unexpected visitors rarely brought good news. And this guest clearly did not wish to announce his or her arrival.
Tucking the glass back into its bag, Lisandro turned his horse’s head and made for home.
In the courtyard of the castle, he came upon the coach. After dismounting from his horse, he handed the reins to a servant and walked over to inspect the carriage. He lifted the black cloth which covered the door, frowning at the sight which met his gaze.
A black and white checkerboard shield, topped with a silver helmet and crest of feathers, was emblazoned on the side of the carriage. The Elizondo family coat of arms.
He swore under his breath. What the devil was his family’s avowed enemy doing at his home?
“Don de Aguirre?”
Lisandro turned, and flinched. Diego de Elizondo was standing in front of him. Instead of waving his fists threateningly in Lisandro’s face, Diego bent himself in a deep bow. There was no sign of a sword or a pistol on his person.What on earth is going on?
The hairs on the back of Lisandro’s neck rose. Suspicion tingled throughout his body. Why would an apparently unarmed Diego be here? He feared to know the answer.
Remember who you are, Lisandro de Aguirre. This man is a guest; treat him with the courtesy that deserves. If he causes any problems, then you will be well within your rights to kill him.
He grimaced at the thought; Lisandro hoped that his days of bloodletting were well behind him.
“Don Diego, this is most unexpected. Have you perhaps lost your way?” he asked, attempting a touch of levity.
The instant that Diego finally righted himself and met Lisandro’s gaze, all thoughts of humor disappeared from his mind. The heir to the title of Duke of Villabona was a younger man than himself, but in the weeks since Lisandro had last set eyes on him, Diego appeared to have aged, a good ten years.
“I come in peace to seek your guidance and help. Could we perhaps speak somewhere in private, Don de Aguirre? I have a grave matter to discuss,” replied Diego.
Lisandro patted his coat pocket, pleased that he had not given up the habit of carrying a loaded pistol with him at all times. Confident that he could defend himself if necessary, he dismissed the gathered servants.
He caught the eye of one of his most senior estate staff and the man nodded. If anything did happen to Lisandro, Diego wouldn’t be leaving Castle Tolosa alive.
Contingencies in place, he led Diego out around the side of the castle through a stone archway and into a small but high-walled garden.
In the center of the garden was a wooden gazebo, its roof formed by ornamental grape vines. This was his mother’s personal place to come and sit when she wished to escape the heat of the day during the height of summer.
Lush green English ivy trailed up the walls, covering almost every inch. While the effect was visually stunning, it also served a purpose. The glossy leaves provided a perfect form of sound insulation. Nothing echoed in the enclosed space.
He motioned toward the table and chairs which sat under the gazebo, but Diego shook his head. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket.
Lisandro stiffened.
Don’t be a fool, Diego.
He sighed with undisguised relief as Diego pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him.
Don Antonio de Elizondo. Duke of Villabona,
Maria is as yet unharmed—but this could change. She is far from here, so do not seek to rescue her.
The sum of 250,000 Spanish Dollars is to be handed to the head priest at Santiago Cathedral in Bilbao.
Once we know the ransom has been paid you will receive further instructions.
Lisandro read the note a second time.
All the saints in heaven.
