Page 63 of The Duchess and the Beast
The man retained his stony expression for a moment longer, before it ultimately broke into a wide grin and a peal of heartylaughter. “What can I say? I was thrilled at the prospect of seeing you again, my boy!”
“No need for the flattery.” Sebastian fell into his seat, looking at his guest’s gold-tanned visage for the first time.
“Bah!Six years without so much as a written word, and then three over the last week requesting my services? Sometimes, I think this connection is maybe too much on one side, no? But truly, I would venture any hardship to glimpse your esteemed countenance once again,hermano,” he jested, reaching into his coat for a match to light his cigar. Catching sight of Sebastian's austere look, he swiftly added, “Shall we proceed to the matter at hand?”
“Did anyone see you, Mendoza?” Sebastian inquired, cutting straight to the chase. There was not an ounce of lie in Mendoza’s words, yet the urgency of their current situation allowed little room for leisurely catch-ups. That could wait for another day.
“You assured me the need for discretion,cuante.”
“Were you always so evasive in your replies?”
A toothy grin came in response. “Fear not, I exercised utmost caution. As far as the great country of England is concerned, I was never here.”
“Good.” Sebastian shifted in his seat. “Good.”
The name wasJustine Mendoza, an old acquaintance of Sebastian’s, their connection stretching back to the early days of the Peninsular War. Not that he fought for the cause, of course. Rather, he was invaluable in another role—that of a ‘trader’, a title he proudly went by that belied his true utility to the war effort, and now, Sebastian. He was a procurer of items that were hard to come by during times of strife, always for a reasonable price, and without the inconvenience of questions. Not a thief. Not a pirate. Merely a well-connected man who capitalized on the desperation war inflicted on ordinary citizens and soldiers alike.
As a commander, Sebastian had enlisted the services of Justine on numerous occasions. It was typically for something innocuous, such as securing extra bottles of brandy and wine to boost the spirits of his men after a grueling campaign—expenses that came from his own pocket. Occasionally, the requests were for weaponry, or even crucial intelligence about enemy movements. And once, as strange as it might sound, it involved acquiring a fresh pair of pantaloons.
The point was, Justine was a man who knew things, who knew people who knew things, who knew people who knew things about people who didn’t want things known about them. An informant, as it was.
“It has been a while, Justine,” Sebastian began awkwardly as he studied the short man sitting across from him.
“Six years, two months,” Justine repeated, picking at his teeth with the miswak stick in his spare hand, in between each puff of his cigar.
“Something like that.”
“You wound me, Your Grace,” he pretended to pout. “You neither write nor visit. Why, I might suspect that the only value I held for you was in my goods and services.”
“Does this shock you,” Sebastian retorted dryly. “Or do you require more flattery?”
Another toothy grin split Justine’s face, his smile incongruously large for his small head. “Lovely. Shows that I must be good at what I do. Seeing as you utilized my services sufficiently.”
“Seeing as I did not have you arrested after the war, you mean? Your panderings toward the French were not as obscure as you might have thought.”
“Now you insult me. I would never.” He feigned shock with a hand to his breastbone.
Sebastian sighed and sat forward. “All right, enough pleasantries.”
“Ah, business.” Justine twiddled his spindly fingers eagerly, his beady eyes flashing their delight. “Just as I had hoped—for amoment there, I thought you might have only invited me over to reminisce.”
Sebastian looked at him flatly. “Are you quite done?”
“I am,” he chuckled. “Now, what is it you be needin'? As you may well remember, there is not much I cannot get these fingers on, if the price is right, of course. I took a littlepaseothrough this castle on my way up here, and it’s in dire need of furnishing. I know a man in the Spanish Isles who specializes in fine furniture.Por un módico precio, he can supply you with the most exquisite set of dressers you’ve ever laid eyes on—”
“I do not require goods,” Sebastian cut him off, reminding himself at the same time to walk Justine out when he was done, and to check his pockets. “What I require is information.”
“Ah...” His eyes flashed with a hint of intrigue. “So, this be concerning your wife, then, aye?”
Sebastian saw red. At the casual mention of his wife, and the very real fact that Justine knew what had happened, he was up and out of his chair, around the table, lifting Justine by the scruff of his neck and slamming his back onto the table before the little man could so much as blink.
“What do you know?!” Sebastian snarled in his face as he pressed his forearm down on Justine’s throat.
“Nothing,cuadre!” Justine cried.
“Wrong answer!”
“I don’t know nothin’—I just heard about the unfortunate incident that befell your lovely wife, is all!” he pleaded, kicking his feet as he tried to free himself; a futile gesture under the iron grip of Sebastian.