Page 12 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke (Notorious Sisters of London #3)

Chapter Eleven

“ Y ou did masterfully, Mr. Connor!” Emma cried in delight as soon as the carriage door was shut. “Oh, it was absolutely impressive. He goaded you, and you still came out on top with him thinking he did. Excellent work.”

Donovan smiled, trying to remain humble. “Thank you very much, Miss Bradford. I am glad you are impressed with my performance though I am just doing everything I can to help,” he insisted.

“That doesn’t make it less impressive though I shouldn’t be surprised. Even if I didn’t always agree with your conclusions, I was always impressed by your body of work. Your mind is home to a cunning intellect, Mr. Connor,” she told him confidently.

His smile grew, and he humbly accepted the praise before trying to change the subject to something less embarrassing. “I do apologize; I have no idea how long my brother will be. We may be held up for a little bit.”

“Did you have a plan for our next move?” she asked, earnestness creeping into her voice.

“Unfortunately, we may be drawing to an end of an active investigation and towards a waiting one. Until we hear something from someone, I don’t believe there is much more to be done,” Donovan admitted reluctantly.

He did not want to let Emma down, but without clues, their options were drying up quickly. “If it is acceptable, I’d like to return to your brother's apartment with you, so I may look through his papers once again. Perhaps I missed something of relevance.”

“That is more than acceptable to me. I begrudge that it is these circumstances that we got to explore our relationship… ah, I mean our friendship, seeing as this is most of the time we have spent together,” Emma told him, her voice as mixed as her feelings but still tainted by sadness.

Donovan hesitated but then spoke, “I am sorry that I... I cast a pall onto our initial meeting by acting in a way that was unbecoming of me. I should have used more discretion and tact.”

It was Emma’s turn to hesitate. “There is something I wasn’t able to explain to you that night. I was embarrassed, but…”

How much did she want to tell him? While Emma wasn’t a fan of any lying, surely that her sister wrote that letter would be a little white one, yes? Still, something needed to be said.

“I found out that my aunt had betrothed me that night. I was brought to that ball specifically to meet the man for the first time. When the letter was written... it was truly how I felt. And I suppose if the circumstances had been different... Well, I suppose the circumstances don’t change the truth in the letter,” she mumbled, but then she realized what she had just said and turned bright red.

“Not that it is particularly relevant now. I am betrothed regardless.”

Donovan looked concerned. “Your feelings on the matter definitely bear relevance. You do want to be betrothed to this man, don’t you?”

Emma didn’t hesitate at all, not wanting to entertain the thought otherwise whatsoever. “Of course. He was kind enough to agree to marry me even though I am well past the proper age. To be ungrateful of that would not mark well on my character, would it?”

Donovan leaned across the carriage. He took her hand gently in his and looked her in the eye. “I don’t know what relevance your age has to this. I think a man should be grateful to get to marry you, not the other way around, Emma.”

Emma’s entire face was red now, her breath catching in her throat. In all of this, though, she didn’t pull her hand away from his. “It’s easy to say, Mr. Connor, and I appreciate the thought, but the practicality of the matter still means you have to find someone willing to be with a spinster.”

“Wasn’t I willing to kiss you that night?” he asked her, his voice quiet and searching.

Her smile was a mix between embarrassment and knowing.

“But, Mr. Connor, isn’t there a big difference between being in love and a kiss?

I may not be well versed, but I know plenty of people are willing to kiss without love.

” Her voice had almost taken on the authoritative tone she used to use with her younger siblings.

Benjamin called it her “governess” voice.

There was something underneath though, something she was trying to conceal.

“The misuse of a technique by a painter or a sculptor does not ruin the technique for everyone,” he noted. “A true artist can make a kiss mean a lot,” he told her, feeling a boldness grow within him, that same boldness that had taken hold of him the night at the ball.

“Is that so?” Emma asked, unconsciously leaning a little closer.

“You’ll have to forgive my skepticism, Donovan.

I found myself very distracted during the one kiss we have already shared.

Do you believe there was something you were trying to convey?

” She spoke with a coyness that even surprised herself.

Was she trying to encourage him? She felt desires that she didn’t know were there spur her onward.

“Well, it would be a shame for any sort of miscommunication to occur,” he said as he leaned in as he had that night at the ball.

This time there was no hesitation in Emma.

No uncertainty, not in her heart at least. When they were just close enough to feel the gentle caress of one another’s breath, they felt the carriage shift with a weight of boot on the step and managed to retreat to their separate sides before Alistair entered.

Donovan looked to his brother, who seemed quite flustered. “Everything all right, Alistair?” Donovan asked.

Alistair grunted and nodded. “He took the opportunity of having me in his office to bring up some of my outstanding debts. Ones I haven't forgotten,” he grumbled. “Will you be taking me back home? Is this dalliance at an end?”

“We will return you home, brother. I am afraid my role in this investigation has only just begun,” Donovan informed him brusquely, put off by the poor timing of his brother.

“Grand,” was Alistair’s only reply.

Donovan had almost returned with his brother when he realized that he would be riding alone with Emma back to the Bradford apartment.

Alone time was exactly what he wanted and didn’t want.

Their interrupted kiss had made things tense and awkward again and made Donovan painfully aware that, despite his apology, he had nearly done the same thing he had done at the party.

And if Emma perceived the interaction differently than he was imagining now, she didn’t say otherwise.

The return to the apartment was one of relief for multiple reasons.

The end to the awkwardness came ironically enough because of the insertion of a third-party, one Mr. Herst, but also, because it had been a long and taught morning.

Emma retired to her room to rest and Donovan to the office, everyone agreeing to meet in a few hours in order to share a late lunch.

“I don’t imagine, Mr. Herst,” Donovan began, “that this question will yield much in the way of results, but it would be remiss of me to ask it. You can’t think of anyone who would want to do harm Mr. Bradford, can you?”

Mr. Herst, who had been making a pot of tea, shook his head.

“As much as I value my position as an apprentice, Mr. Bradford was very private with his business. Though, don’t get the wrong impression, I wouldn’t say he was secretive.

If anything, he avoided doing business that would require anything adjacent to secrecy.

He simply valued the, how did he put it, compartmentalization of his work. ”

Herst poured the steaming tea into a cup. “But now that I’m talking about it aloud, it's kind of funny. Mr. Bradford would never do any sort of even suggestively scandalous dealings, so him being disappeared in a matter of his work isn’t all that likely.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Donovan said thoughtfully, “and the Bradfords, while not necessarily poor, are not a wealthy family. So kidnapping Donovan for ransom doesn’t seem likely either.

So, what does that leave?” Donovan thanked Herst for the cup of tea, sat before him, and thought as he swirled the spoon in the cup. “Did he have much of a social life?”

“I think there was little to share on that front. If I am being perfectly honest with you, part of the reason I sought an apprenticeship with him is that his record is impeccable, but he isn’t popular among the organization.

I think the term that floats around the halls is a “mope.” Meant there wasn’t a lot of competition for the apprentice position though,” Herst added with a smile.

“Hm... what about romance?” Donovan asked, the subject floating around his mind anyway.

Herst laughed and then paused for a moment. “You know, now that I think about it… I wrote the detail off because I knew he would never talk about it, but he was writing a letter to someone named “Jenny” about a week before he disappeared.”

“Jenny? I don’t suppose you have a last name or an address?” Donovan asked.

“I can do you one better, Mr. Connor. I can show you exactly who I handed the letter to,” Herst said with a smile.

“Excellent. Would you mind preparing lunch? I will inform Miss Bradford that we will be leaving immediately afterward,” Donovan said with a fresh, determined smile.

Donovan was excited to follow up on anything he could.

Even if it didn’t amount to much past the initial lead, it was still better than sitting and waiting.

Donovan knocked excitedly on the door to the guest bedroom. “Miss Bradford. Emma, if you have a moment, I have exciting news.”

Her reply was surprisingly distorted and hard to hear, like it was echoing, but Donovan distinctly heard the words “come in,” and his excitement about the situation urged him to press onward without more intricate consideration.

Donovan entered the guest bedroom just as Emma was exciting the guest bathroom. She was wrapped in nothing else but a towel around her midriff and let out a startled squeak when she saw Donovan. Her friend, realizing his error, immediately turned around.

“Mr. Connor! I said don’t come in!” she huffed, more in surprise and shock than in anger.

“I apologize profusely. I didn't mean to… I wasn’t aware that there was a bathtub to this room, and I didn’t assume you would be... undressed,” he said, clearing his throat.

Emma was about to point out that he had yet to leave the room, despite that being the appropriate course of action, but then she stopped. She didn’t want to kick him out. She wanted him to stay. Even if he wasn’t looking. His presence while she dressed was of course very inappropriate, but…

“You said you have something important to tell me? About the investigation?” she said with a bit of a tut. “I can dress and listen at the same time. If this was important enough to walk into my room, then you best hurry up and tell me.”

Donovan cleared his throat again. “Of course. Mr. Herst remembered an unusual social engagement your brother was involved in. A letter to a woman. He wasn’t seeing anyone romantically, was he? I feel like if you knew you would have mentioned it long before this point,” he remarked offhandedly.

“No, that's correct, I haven’t heard of such a woman. Mr. Herst remembered her?” She felt her heart race and her skin prickle as she moved about behind him. She had never felt this comfortable while undressed before. What kind of effect did this man have on her?

“Yes, while I was talking to him. He said he delivered a letter for a “Jenny”. We’ve both been through your brother’s papers, and I don’t recall seeing any “Jenny”.

This leads me to believe it was a social call.

Perhaps one your brother had more invested in than anyone realized,” Donovan speculated out loud to himself.

Emma was glad he couldn’t see her smile. She appreciated his flair for the mystery of it all but wouldn’t want him to interpret her enjoyment as laughing at him rather than enjoying him.

“Are you decent?” he asked, only turning his head ever so slightly.

Emma swore internally, she had gotten so caught up listening to him that she hadn’t finished dressing. “A moment, please.”

“It doesn't matter,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“I asked Mr. Herst to prepare something for us to eat, and then the three of us will set out to meet this Jenny. I will see how the preparations are coming. You may join us when you are ready. No need to rush,” he assured her before departing the way he came and closing the door from the outside, so he would not risk peeking.

Emma didn’t want to admit how disappointed she was that he was gone, especially to herself.