Page 17 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke (Notorious Sisters of London #3)
Chapter Sixteen
“ W hy is it, Mr. Dole, that you did not come to help me search for my missing brother?”
Donovan smiled at this little quip. God bless that woman. His brother had referred to her as Lady Cheek, and if it hadn’t been a pseudonym developed by the one and only Alistair Connor, Donovan would have found it delightfully fitting.
As much as Donovan would have loved to stay and listen to Emma tear this man’s argument down around his ears, he knew it was far from the proper thing to do.
He had despised Joseph Dole since he had made his acquaintance several years ago.
To learn he was the man that Emma was engaged to had made his stomach turn and his face burn hot.
It would have lived with him and cast a dark angry shadow over his day, had he not heard Emma Bradford putting Mr. Dole in his place only a moment later.
Mr. Dole had proven to be an immense obstacle to the investigation into his parents’ deaths.
The mysterious carriage accident occurred within a particular time frame, a time frame of extreme importance to the business dealings of his father.
This fact led Donovan to believe an element of extortion likely played a role in the deaths of the previous Duke and Duchess of Lowe.
When Donovan traveled to the Inn of Courts on multiple occasions to enquire about business dealings, it was Mr. Dole he often found on the prohibitive end of the action.
Mr. Dole would block his access to documents and records for the sake of the “privacy of clients” and would always do so with an air of snide smugness.
He had mixed feelings about his involvement in the present situation, to say the least.
“Do you think it was wise, Mr. Connor, to leave Miss Bradford with that man?” Herst asked him.
“Did anything about that situation lead you to believe Miss Bradford wasn’t fully capable and in control?” Donovan asked with a slightly wry smile.
“I suppose not,” Herst answered and tried to return the smile, but he couldn’t remove the look of worry from his face. “But... don’t you think she might be cross if we continue the investigation without her?”
“While leaving then was more meant in consideration for Miss Bradford’s privacy, it, unfortunately, had an additional benefit. It would have been very difficult to ask questions around the Inn of Courts while not revealing my true identity.”
Herst's brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out what Donovan could have been referring to. “Why is that?”
Donovan took a deep breath. “I, with my title included, have garnered a bit of a reputation at the Inn of Courts for being a nuisance.”
Suddenly, Mr. Herst let out a gasp followed by a short laugh.
“I never put it together! You are that Duke! The one who bothers all the solicitors like he is one of the watch who caught them stealing sniffs from a brandy barrel.” The young man let out a delighted cackling laugh before Donovan’s hard look silenced him.
“I was aware I had garnered a reputation, earned or not. I did not realize it had traveled so far as to reach all the way to the apprenticeship,” Donovan said, a touch of embarrassment in his voice.
“Don’t take it as a mark of shame, Mr. Connor.
All we apprentices have to do all day is read big musty tomes of the law written in teeny tiny handwriting.
Makes any sort of gossip really seem appealing.
I remember one time when I and the lads talked half the day away about a stray tomcat who had gotten in the building and had yet to be found,” the solicitor’s apprentice remarked with almost a sense of whimsy.
“Surprisingly, that does make me feel a bit better,” Donovan said with a dryness that Mr. Herst obviously did not catch as the younger man continued to regale the Duke with tales of surprisingly recent days gone. These stories would continue until they stood outside the Inn of Courts.
“Mr. Herst,” Donovan said interrupting a story he wasn’t following all that well as it was being told rather anachronistically, “I appreciate all the help you have given me thus far when it comes to the matter of my title and its acknowledgment or lack-there-of, but while we are inside there is no chance I will not be recognized, so, for the time being, we must return to the proper decorum.”
“Oh,” Herst said, only the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice. “Of course, Your Grace. Almost a relief actually. Been kind of uncomfortable referring to you as mister all this time,” the young man said with very little conviction.
“Really? Honestly, the relief has been having someone talk to me like a normal person. The only people who haven’t treated me as a title first and person second have been Miss Bradford and my brother, and my brother doesn’t exactly make for good company.”
“He did seem rather brusque, Your Grace,” Mr. Herst said with an eloquence that Donovan was surprised he could muster.
“Mr. Herst, I didn’t realize you had a subtle sense of humor,” Donovan said with a laugh before gesturing them to head-on, leaving the younger man to look confused, unaware that he had made a joke.
“Your Grace, if I may be so bold, I was aware that you had garnered a difficult reputation with the solicitors of the city of London, but I don’t think you need to go about hiring the apprentices of the lesser members of our fraternity.
” The thin, serpent-like gentleman barely contained a breathy laugh.
The gentleman in question was Baron of Northgnell, Gene Falton, and the only other solicitor that had proven to be a sharp and irritating thorn in Donovan's side. Lord Northgnell was the fourth son of the Marquess of Langanchap, and while he had been lucky enough to inherit a small title, there was little room for social climbing with the deaths of his two brothers having weighed heavily on the family’s reputation.
That was the entire reason that his father encouraged him to become a solicitor so as to develop a touch of skill and ethic.
He was far more known for taking advantage of the meager benefits his title allowed him, including a far looser tongue than that of the common man, than for his knowledge of the law and the courts.
Donovan normally paid little mind to Lord Northgnell as the Baron seemed very small to him, but when he saw Mr. Herst’s fists tightened in anger and realized the young man was offended, either for himself or the duke’s behalf, he felt spurred to action.
“Tell me, Lord Northgnell, how should one go about choosing a solicitor, in your opinion?” Donovan asked him, catching the other man off-guard.
“Well, you look at their successes in matters of advice, contract, and litigation,” the Lord answered, seriously considering the question for the sake of its unexpectedness.
“I see,” Donovan said and nodded before turning to the solicitor’s apprentice. “Mr. Herst, have you ever had anyone dismiss you of service or complain about your performance under their employ?”
It took Mr. Herst a moment to catch on, but thankfully he was quick enough. “Oh, no, Your Grace, you’ll find my record is impeccable.” He nodded to the Duke confidently.
“Excellent. Tell me, Lord Northgnell, can you say the same?” Donovan asked quietly and politely, though the absolute razor edge of the insult left the lord speechless.
The Duke had never once reacted to him, but this day he had unexpectedly laid his wounds bare, and the lower Lord had nothing he could say in rebuttal.
Donovan walked away, Mr. Herst trailing behind him and trying to maintain his composure which he was only able to do until they turned to a less populated hallway.
“Your Grace!” he whispered excitedly and loudly. “That was amazing. It is certain to cause terrible consequences for me later, but the look on his face was well worth it, I can assure you now.”
Donovan took the praise in stride, simply happy to help a friend of his who was being insulted by a far lesser gentleman.
“Of course, Mr. Herst. Now, I don’t suppose you know what sort of people would be willing to talk about Mr. Bradford.
I know he wasn’t exactly... sociable, but there must have been people he kept company with. ”
“Ah, well, yes but that's a bit of a funny thing…” Mr. Herst trailed off, “You see, part of the reason Mr. Bradford was willing to take me on as his apprentice was that he was a bit ostracized as well,” he told Donovan.
“Ostracized? What for?” Donovan asked.
“The company he kept was atypical. Come,” the younger man gestured for the Duke to follow, “I will show you what I mean.”
“Absolutely abysmal solution!” a gruff voice cried and was followed by a small chorus of agreement. Donovan entered a room that he was surprised was occupied by half a dozen men of the cloth. They were older and were arguing or agreeing, Donovan couldn’t expressly tell which.
“Mr. Herst, are we still in the Inn of Courts?” Donovan asked quietly.
Herst smiled knowingly. “Before solicitors were legally recognized, the church were the ones that oversaw private law and matters of business.”
“I am aware of the evolution of law in my country, Mr. Herst,” Donovan informed him.
“Of course, Your Grace. As you also know the Church was displeased by this shift in authority. What a lot of people outside of the profession don’t know is that they were given a standing advisory board over the solicitors as a consolation.”
“An advisory board,” Donovan mused while looking at the squabbling old men. “Do they exercise much authority?”
“Well, the parameters of their establishment were intentionally vague, so they don’t really have authority. This is simply where the church appoints its older clergy whose expertise pertains to church law as they are far less, how did Mr. Bradford put it, in demand.”
“And these are the men who Mr. Bradford kept in his company?” Donovan asked quizzically.
Mr. Herst nodded knowingly at the bizarreness of the situation. “I imagine it may have had something to do with his family’s relationship with the church. Perhaps being here felt familiar to him?”
“Indeed,” Donovan remarked non-committedly before approaching the group of clergymen.