a little more, so people don't completely destroy me

[maderr]

Before Joss could turn around to see what had caught Michael's eye, a voice like crushed velvet purred in his ear. "My turn, Matchmaker."

His body tensed with a suppressed urge to jump and turn around.

Instead, Joss merely turned his head to meet the winter eyes, so close their noses almost touched, and he could smell tea and cinnamon on Sorrel's breath. "Marquis Bellow," he greeted politely, neither warm nor cool. "You're early, and here I did not expect you at all."

Sorrel rose to his full height, a good half a head taller than Joss.

He was, Joss suddenly realized, truly beautiful. The winter eyes against the summer hair, features elegant and refined enough to be worthy of being carved into marble or painted in rich oils. He wore haughtiness and arrogance like a second skin, and the twist to his mouth said he was used to getting what he wanted, and did not expect that to change any time soon.

Men who pretended to power and authority tended to be excessive in proving they already had it. Sorrel was dressed simply, elegantly, with only a small diamond in one ear, and a plain gold signet ring on his right hand. It was the sort of simplicity that said he had no reason to pretend anything.

Joss met the challenge in those eyes unflinching, and made a mental note to add further impressions to Sorrel's file: Hostile. Likely willing to use seduction to get his way.

"Shall we, then?" Sorrel asked. "The sooner this inquisition is over, the better."

"I would hate to keep you overlong," Joss murmured back, then turned around slowly and strolled leisurely back into his office.

He sat down behind his desk, and waited as Sorrel took his time in getting a drink from the bar and settling down in one of the seats in front of the desk. "So what would you like to know?" he finally asked, voice still holding a bit of that velvet purr.

Nothing like the cooler tones of that morning, which meant he was hoping to rattle or otherwise upset Joss' equilibrium.

It was nothing he had not seen before, and if the good Marquis wanted to play games – well, that told him more than Sorrel probably realized.

Though, it really did not matter. His first impression was not changing, and while he would go through all the motions to ensure he was correct, he did not see that impression changing. Sorrel would not be his final choice, or any choice at all.

Still, he could get information he needed on the others. "You have known the Queen your entire life," he began calmly. "Have you known Michael as long as she has?"

"Yes, and yes," Sorrel replied, looking amused. "What's your next question? Why haven't I married her? Am I jealous of him? You should ask the inhabitants of the palace, they have far better answers to those questions than I can provide."

Joss almost smiled. "While gossip provides information in its own unique way, my lord, I am not looking for lies and suppositions. I am looking for honesty." He looked down, then slowly dragged his gaze back up, looking through his lashes. "An interesting concept for you, I do not doubt."

Something sparked in Sorel's eyes, but whether it was amusement or annoyance, Joss could not quite say.

"I have no interest in marriage, even to a Queen," Sorrel replied, stretching his legs out, half reclining in his seat, one leg crossed over the other, whiskey glass held loosely in one hand. "I have never denied that I do not favor fidelity."

No, he was certainly not the type to trouble himself with something as bothersome as fidelity. Why settle for a rose when the whole garden is available for your perusal?

Joss made appropriate notes in the file, taking his time about it, feeling the cool eyes watch his every moment. "I'm told you are quite adept with law, my lord."

"Yes," Sorrel drawled, pale lips curving a wicked smirk. "Rules are an interesting game to play. Where to follow…where to bend…where to break…" He took a sip of his whiskey, and licked a trace of it from his lips. "I'm certain you must find rules just as interesting."

"It is true that I must follow a great man of them," Joss replied calmly, jotting further notes, telling himself he wasn't doing it just because it obviously annoyed and rattled Sorrel to see notes being made about him.

Except he got the feeling that Sorrel was seldom rattled by anything, and that was worth making note.

Sorrel's lip curled. "Must follow, yes. Question and harass and place people like so many pawns. I'm certain the rules for that games are most intriguing."

"People are not pawns," Joss replied and dipped his pen in the inkwell.

Trust issues? he noted, then looked up again, setting the pen aside for the moment.

"Her Majesty mentioned to me, not longer after we first met, that you greatly enjoy tea."

Sorrel looked at him, but said nothing.

Joss did not press him, refusing to rise to the bait. Sorrel wanted him to work for every single snippet of information, and that was not a game he intended to play. Let the bastard keep underestimating him; he'd already given away more than he would ever realize.

Realizing his own thoughts, he grimaced inwardly at his own bought of cockiness. Sorrel was not a man to be underestimated, either.

A pity, really. Back home, during her visit and after her initial request, the Queen had talked in detail about her friends. She had admitted her cousin was more than a little bit of a rake, and the living, breathing definition of arrogant—

—She had obviously also spoken with the familiarity of someone who had grown up with him, and so was immune or oblivious to certain aspects to which a stranger would be vulnerable.

Joss wondered, if he were to inquire, how many people would describe the Marquis as 'devastating' or something much along those lines.

He looked at general notes he had made on the journey here, and picked one that changed direction entirely. "Her Majesty's late husband – what did you think of him?"

"The King?" Sorrel shrugged. "He had excellent taste in women."

A flippant reply if Joss had ever heard one, and almost amusing – he meant it to be taken in the wrong vein, that the King had been a womanizer, yet in reality it was probably only a compliment to the Queen.

He picked up his pen again, and scratched out the question mark besides Trust issues.

Setting the pen down again, he stood up and smiled. "I believe that is all I need from you today, my lord. I prefer to keep the sessions short, though they will likely lengthen as you grow comfortable with me." He moved around the desk to escort Sorrel from his office, a reflexive gesture of courtesy.

Sorrel stood just as he neared, close enough their shoulders did not quite brush. His voice was all purr and velvet again as he dipped his head to Joss' ear once more. "As pretty as you are, Matchmaker…" He drew back as abruptly as he had moved in, voice suddenly frigid. "I doubt anyone could ever be comfortable with you."

He set his glass down with a faint click on the desk, turned sharply away and stalked from the room, gone as quietly as he had come.

Joss stood impassive for a long moment, then moved back to sit behind his desk.

Sorrel knew where to thrust the knife, that was certain. He had gone straight for the heart.

A man like that, however, always excelled at finding the weaknesses in others.

The trick was not letting him know he had found a weakness, and if there was one thing a lifetime of studying people had taught Joss, it was how to hide what he felt.