Page 72 of The Duchess and the Beast

“Who is this man!” Lord Prescott interjected.

“Nice try!” Sebastian snapped dismissively.

“I have been watching him the entire day!” Justine exclaimed, his voice desperate to convey the truth. “Yes, he did visit your wife. He was there for less than five minutes. And he did not step foot inside the castle. Then he returned here, alone, on his own!”

“Liar!”

“I am many things,Hermano. But I am no liar.”

“Now hold on a moment!” Lord Prescott was back on his feet—blood poured from his nose, but he ignored it. “You hired this man to watch over me?”

“He sure did!” Justine smiled a toothy grin at Lord Prescott. “A pleasure to officially meet you, Lord Prescott. The name isJustine Mendoza, tradesman, bootlegger, and occasional spy if the price is right—”

“Enough!” Sebastian roared over the two of them. “Yes, I hired him to keep an eye on you. And I had every right to do so! You tried to poison my wife, you blackguard!”

“I have told you many times, I did no such thing!”

“And then you abducted her!” Sebastian wheeled around, his blade poised threateningly at Lord Prescott, who stood his ground defiantly this time.

“I most certainly did not!”

“Do not play me for a fool, Prescott!”

“For heaven’s sake, I am speaking the truth man!”

“He is being truthful, Your Grace! Whatever his faults, this man is no kidnapper.”

“Someone kidnapped Virtue?” Lord Prescott appeared genuinely surprised for a moment. “When? How?”

“Do not feign ignorance with me.”

It was all too much. Adrenaline still surging. Rage still pumping. Sebastian’s eyes flicked to Prescott’s home, the realization that Virtue might be tied up in there right now, awaiting her rescue. All he’d need to do is strike these two men down and be done with it. Why was he hesitating?

“I shall offer you one final opportunity.” Sebastian advanced, pressing the tip of his saber lightly against Lord Prescott's throat. “Where is Virtue?”

Lord Prescott met Sebastian's fierce gaze unflinchingly and retorted, “It was not me!”

“Then you shall meet your end—”

“Perhaps you should inquire with Lord Wellington before making any rash decisions!” Justine suddenly cried over them.

Sebastian balked. “Wh—what?” He glanced over his shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”

“…Precisely what I said?” Justine answered carefully.

“Simon Wellington is dead!”

“What? Since when?” Justine's brows furrowed in confusion.

“Two weeks ago.”

“He most certainly is not.”

“Are you accusing me of being a liar?”

“I am suggesting you are misinformed,” Justine corrected gently. “Either that, or I ought to quit my drinking habits.”

Sebastian drew his pistol with his free hand, leveling it at Justine. “Explain yourself.”