Page 9 of Devoted to the Spanish Duke
Realization appeared on the other man’s face. He let out a low whistle. “That’s a high price you ask of both my family and Maria.”
If Lisandro did manage to find Maria and bring her home, there was every chance that at some point in the journey, the two of them would find themselves alone. A young unwed, Spanish noblewoman could easily lose her reputation if that ever came to light. A reputation which would only remain secure if she somehow found a way to marry her liberator.
Of course, if he put his mind to it, he could find ways to avoid being alone with her. But perhaps he wouldn’t; and in doing so Lisandro could turn the situation to his advantage. Gain the opportunity to get to know Maria. And she to change her mind about him.
Say yes. Let her and I discover what could be possible between us.
“Diego, I promise I will do everything I can to find your sister. Whatever else comes after that, you have my solemn word that Maria will be given as much choice as possible,” he said.
Diego nodded. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a gold chain. A religious medallion hung on the end of it.
Maria was wearing that the night of the ball.
“This is Maria’s. She usually wears it but must have forgotten to take it with her when she went for that ill-fated walk on the beach. If you find her, give this to my sister. She will know who sent you.”
Lisandro nodded. It made sense for him to have something to give to Maria to let her know that he was working on behalf of her family. Considering the long, dark history between the Aguirre and Elizondo clans, he could see how it would be hard for her to trust him without some form of proof that he was not in league with her kidnappers.
Lisandro beckoned toward the nearby gazebo. “Come, sit—tell me everything you know. However insignificant it may seem, do not leave out a single detail. It may mean the difference between getting Maria back or holding a rosary service for her.”
Later that day, Lisandro sent Diego home in his unmarked coach with a solemn promise that he would do all he could. After accepting a bag of silver coins and bidding Maria’s brother farewell, Lisandro went in search of his mother.
If he was about to go and rescue his potential future wife, the dowager Duchess of Tolosa should at least have fair warning.
Chapter Four
While Zarautz was the playground for the Spanish royal family and other nobles, it also had a dark underbelly. Lisandro knew all the immoral and foul places where the local criminals gathered. After taking a room at a quiet and respectable inn, he made for the less savory part of town.
For Maria to have been taken from the beach in broad daylight, the kidnappers must have had help from someone in Zarautz. Someone who knew the tides and also where she could possibly have been that morning. Locals would have had to be involved. And the longer Lisandro thought about it, the more Diego’s words of worry about people close to the Elizondo family being complicit in Maria’s disappearance made greater sense.
He didn’t believe in happy coincidences; he had more faith in the power of a handful of coins. Those and a sharp sword were what usually got people talking.
Lisandro chose a grimy seaside tavern close to the villa where the Elizondo family had stayed during the wedding celebrations as the first place to scout for clues. As he walked into the inn, he dipped his functional hat toward the innkeeper, then settled himself at a table toward the back. His plain travelling attire of long black coat and dull brown trousers drew little attention from the other customers, which was exactly what Lisandro wanted.
Nursing a glass of brandy, he waited.
The patrons of the establishment slowly but surely got deeper into their drinks over the course of the night. The drunker they got, the louder and looser of lips they became.
He had just set his second gently nursed glass of golden heaven onto the table when a voice rose above all the others.
“You bloody Spanish are hopeless at handling your ships. How many times did your Armada try and invade merry old England? Too many times.”
Lisandro searched for the loudmouth. There was a group of rowdy drinkers not far away. In their midst rose a man in a dirty red shirt. He climbed onto the table and held out his arms. It wasn’t his clothing or behavior which caught Lisandro’s attention—rather, it was his badly scarred face.
Someone at the Englishman’s table swore at him in Spanish, and the rest of the gathering all laughed. The man clearly understood the jest. “Hijos de perros,” he replied.
His friends obviously didn’t mind being told they were sons of dogs as they all lifted their glasses and toasted their companion.
The man reached into his coat pocket and proceeded to rain coins upon the heads of those seated at the table. A roar of approval and cheers rang out.
“Come on, drink up, my amigos. Lots of lovely Spanish dollars. There is plenty more where that came from!”
Lisandro froze. Why would a poorly dressed Englishman be throwing money around? Most sailors barely scraped by, so who was this scarred man?
And he talks of Spanish dollars, not pesos. Just like in the ransom note.
While he didn’t believe in coincidences, Lisandro most certainly believed in good fortune. Zarautz was a sleepy fishing town; few ships from other areas docked there. Any sort of foreigner could seem out of place.
The noise level in the drunken group steadily grew louder. If Lisandro had not been such an experienced operative, he would have continued to watch the boisterous Brit, but over the next hour his attention slowly shifted and focused on another man seated at the table.
