Page 14 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke (Notorious Sisters of London #3)
Chapter Thirteen
T he group had agreed to retire for the evening when they returned from the tavern.
Both Emma and Donovan were slightly less than truthful about the exact reason they wanted to retire for the evening.
Emma said she was feeling tired, and Donovan said he had to think.
Neither directly lied, but the whole truth of the matter was obfuscated.
Donovan wanted to think about the investigation, about what he thought of the interview with Jenny, what it meant, and whether he believed her. He did, but he wished he didn’t because the only lead he got from her was not one he knew if he could pursue.
He had been able to obfuscate his identity for this long, if just barely.
But the Inn of Courts was a place he had become acquainted with very well in the pursuit of justice for the deaths of his parents.
He had not only been present publicly and often, but he had asserted his station on more than one occasion in order to make certain that he would get answers, and they would be truthful ones.
This hadn’t won him many friends in the Inn of Courts.
Maybe not enemies, but certainly no one willing to protect the secret of his identity.
This shouldn't have surprised him. Truthfully, he wasn’t much of an investigator.
He had only tried to solve one other crime and had been unsuccessful.
Emma had trusted him enough to get him this far, trust in the techniques he practiced unfounded.
Would an actual investigator have solved this by now?
Was he putting Emma’s brother in more danger by prolonging this farce?
He had assumed that those years of investigating his parents’ deaths would provide him with enough know-how to handle this, but now he was days in and floundering.
Before he could let himself be swallowed by the quickly darkening cloud of guilt that hovered above him, he heard a knock at the door. His throat tightened when he bid the knocker enter, and he was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when Herst walked through the door.
“Ahem, Mr. Connor, I have a question that should only take a moment of your time,” the young man assured the Duke.
“I have had an incredible amount of difficulty answering questions as of late,” Donovan said with a sigh, “but I will do my best.”
“Yes,” Herst said uncertainly before continuing. “Believe me, I appreciate your commitment to helping us find Mr. Bradford. But I can’t help but wonder, don’t you have, well, lordly duties to be carrying out? How do you have time to commit to this singular issue?”
Leave it to someone else to ask the very question Donovan had been avoiding asking himself all along. He let out a sigh. “Truthfully? I don’t. I am sure I have at least a half a dozen duties that I have left neglected at this moment.”
“But why?” Herst asked, confused. “I am sure Miss Bradford would understand if you had to step out from time to time. Even as an investigator under her employ, you wouldn’t be expected to only be working for her. So... it doesn’t even work to your lie. Why commit so much of yourself?”
Donovan didn’t answer for a moment and wondered if he would. He didn’t know Herst and owed him nothing of himself. But he didn’t think he knew anyone close enough to answer that question if he were being honest with himself.
“I guess I thought that I would get to decide what I did with my time for once. One would think that a title would give freedom. And it does, in some regards, but my hands are bound in others. Sometimes I don’t feel like any of my decisions are truly my own.
But living my life like this, so close to Emma.
.. well, it's the closest I’ve ever felt to living the way I truly want to. ”
The look of confusion didn’t leave Mr. Herst's face, but he seemed to mull over what Donovan told him. “Well, I won’t pretend that I understand the ways and thoughts of a duke, but if you want to help find Mr. Bradford, then I suppose I have no issues with your motivations.” The young apprentice tapped his foot a bit.
“Thank you for sating my curiosity. I will take my leave now, Mr. Connor,” Herst said with a nod and departed back through the door.
Donovan was left with the weight of his old thoughts, his new thoughts, and the nagging question of what to do about the need to visit the Inn of Courts. Unfortunately, that would fail to be an issue for much longer.
Emma was having a conflict of her own. Each day she was taking up her friend Mr. Connor’s time made her feel guilty, even if it was to help her brother.
She wasn’t paying him, and Mr. Connor must be busy with other cases.
He had already committed so much to her.
Emma could only assume he was doing it out of guilt for what occurred the night of the ball.
How much would she let her plight draw upon his livelihood and good conscience?
Another part of her mind nagged at her. A part of her that was cold, calculating, and cynical.
There were parts of the investigation that simply did not add up.
Moments that Donovan wished she hadn’t noticed.
At first, she chalked it up to embarrassment, some sort of professional slip up that he would be more conscious of, and she could not have noticed.
But with each additional slip, her concern grew.
Why was it that Donovan would occasionally miss important questions?
Emma didn’t believe that her dear friend was incompetent.
After all, she had read his published papers, knowing of his broad and developed intellect.
Then why was it that Emma could think of questions that he should have asked after the fact almost every time?
And why was it that there were multiple instances where people in London seemed to know him? He would write it off or interrupt them. Once Emma could have let it slip past her observation, but twice? Three times?
She couldn’t bring herself to suspect Donovan of anything nefarious; she held him in too high of regard and too dearly. But what was going on? The nagging voice in the back of her head, the sum of her inquisitiveness and curiosity demanded answers. Answers Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to find.