Page 21 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke (Notorious Sisters of London #3)

Chapter Twenty

“ A ren’t you concerned about Benjamin, Aunt Barbara? He is your nephew after all?” Emma pressed her aunt one afternoon at tea.

The last few weeks had not been what Emma had wanted. Easily the opposite in fact. She had been confined to the countryside with no news of her brother, no justification to be with the man she really loved, and a rapidly approaching wedding date.

Mr. Dole and her aunt were prepared to act like the whole trip to London never happened.

“Of course, I am concerned,” Barbara said with a huff and set down her cup with an impolite clink.

“Emma, when you have been around as long as I have been, you begin to understand the importance of priorities. Life will always come at you with highs and lows, often at the same time. The important thing is not to let the world ruin the good moments, so that you can enjoy them.”

“But how can I be expected to enjoy my wedding when I do not know what has befallen my brother?” Emma pleaded. She felt as if she was going mad; no one close to her seemed as concerned as they should be.

“That is the root of the very problem, my dear,” her aunt snapped. “You seem unwilling to try to enjoy your wedding and insist on fixating on the subject of your missing brother instead. Well, I have had enough of it. Until this wedding is done, you are not to talk to me anymore about Benjamin.”

“But Aunt Barbara-!”

“I said enough is enough. No more on the matter, and that is the end of it,” Aunt Barbara spoke sternly and picked her cup again, bringing the matter to a firm close.

Emma wasn’t sure where to turn for help.

Her father was currently traveling to them across the ocean, but it would be some time before he would reach them.

Her youngest sister Harriet was too far away, living with her husband in Italy.

And Martha, the second youngest, had been called to her estate to handle the hiring of a new governess for her daughter and would not be able to return until much closer to the wedding.

The topic of the wedding: every piece of bad news circled the wedding like a vortex as the subject pulled everything in her life towards that day.

Emma didn’t love Mr. Dole, but life had made it very clear to her recently that love and marriage have no necessary relation.

She thought she needed Mr. Dole. Her aunt insisted she did.

Each and every thought she had about the matter made her feel like she had less and less choice.

So, the courtship continued, and, for Emma, it was a miserable one.

She had given up on trying to deter Mr. Dole or even communicate her displeasure whatsoever.

She spoke to him in short, neutral answers and only when prompted.

Part of her secretly, and foolishly, hoped this lack of investment might be enough to deter Mr. Dole, but she should have known better.

He seemed not at all bothered and carried on as if they were the happiest couple to ever be.

When she had left London, her wedding had been six weeks away, and now it was half that.

The speed in which the date drew near was infused with a dreadful sense of irony.

The date rapidly approached while each day Emma was forced to spend courting a betrothed that she neither liked nor loved moved with agonizing slowness.

Emma was unsure what forces that ruled over heaven and earth she had offended to end up in such a position, but she wished they would curse her openly, so she could rectify all this.

When she finally found herself returning to the vicinity of London, it was at Mr. Dole’s side.

They would be attending a ball hosted by the Earl of Mimsy as a betrothed couple.

Mr. Dole worked on a frequent basis with Lord Minsy and had built a good reputation with him.

Emma herself was unfamiliar with the gentleman, but Aunt Barbara said it was of the utmost importance that she attended.

Thus, Emma found herself in a room full of titled gentlemen, ladies, and their closest associates and beneficiaries.

It was a crowded and busy affair, people moving this way and that, talking, making arrangements, and signing dance cards.

After her husband-to-be had made the essential introductions, she had quickly lost track of him.

“People say it's better to arrive later in the evening. That you’ll make more of an impression that way,” a familiar voice spoke from behind her. “You do tend to miss the introductions that way, though, and then you have no idea who is in attendance.”

She turned in sudden excitement. “Donovan!” she said enthusiastically before his hand gently wrapped around hers, and he placed his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. “We can talk soon. For now, I simply wish to return something you dropped.”

He held out to her a firm paper card, and when she retrieved it from him, she was dismayed to see him quickly disappear into the crowd.

Confused, she found the card to be a dance card for the ball.

She had received one in with her invitation but had been disinclined to dance, so she had “forgotten” to place it amongst the others.

But here was a new card with her name, and only 2 of the dance slots filled out.

They were for the next upcoming dances, and Donovan Connor had taken up both slots.

Emma stared at the card in wonder and delight, her heart thudding in her chest. All she had to do to guarantee that Donovan would touch her and hold her close was to walk over and place her card with the others. Then everything would be alright, at least for the moment.

Emma only hesitated for a moment, the apprehension rooted more in excitement, like the seconds before opening a box lid to reveal a gift.

She tried to look calm and non-intrusive as she crossed the ballroom to place her card on the table with the others.

The performers were already readying their instruments.

Emma only had to wait a moment for Donovan to reemerge from the ball goers and offer his hand. “I believe I am next on your dance card, Miss Bradford, if you will grant me the privilege?”

“Of course, Mr. Connor, I would be honored.” Their exchange was simple, polite, and, most important of all, appropriate.

The two of them made their way to the dance floor and began to dance.

That was the point when the world fell away from them.

There was no one else on the dance floor; no ball carried on around them.

The music was composed of the very air itself and swept them away into the candle-lit night.

“Did you know I would be here?” Emma asked him, her voice hushed and breathy from talking into his ear while they danced.

He laughed and shook his head. “I was as pleasantly surprised as you were.”

“I am doubly impressed, then, at how fast you were able to supply me with a dance card.” She smiled at him. Their bodies moved closely with one another, but gracefully, reading each other's motion through looks and touch.

He gave a small fast grin, so quick it was clearly just for her. “It wasn’t that hard. I went to sign your card but couldn’t find it. Then I just let the hosts know that your card must have been displaced.”

“That is a bit easier than I expected,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should have let it seem much more impressive rather than revealing how you did it?” She laughed at her own teasing.

“Well perhaps I can find other ways to impress you?” He gave her a wink as the first song ended.

Various attendees vacated the ballroom floor or switched off with other partners present.

It was certainly acceptable for Emma and Donovan to share two dances in a row, but “acceptable” and “unnoticed” were two different things.

Emma and Donovan had their attention focused elsewhere and were oblivious of what they had garnered for themselves.

“You are a very good dancer,” Donovan told Emma as they bounced and moved throughout the ballroom with one another. They didn’t notice that they were gradually moving closer and closer to one another.

“I can only work with the skills of my partner,” she told him with a smile.

As the pace of the music increased, so did their motions, giving the piece life and embodying it better than anyone else at the ball.

They never considered the attention they drew nor worried about the consequences as they might have some other time.

For that moment, it was only them. By the time their second dance had ended, everyone at the ball knew they would be the gossip of the evening, even if they didn’t.

“It's a shame,” Emma said wistfully. “I didn’t want those dances to end.”

“It was very enjoyable…” Donovan said, glancing around briefly. “You probably have some questions about the investigation for your brother? It would be difficult to discuss here. Would you be able to meet by the gardens? It should be quiet there.”

“I shall make my way there later in the evening,” Emma said in a way that told Donovan that she was going to head right over. He smiled and slipped back into the crowd, so he wouldn’t attract attention while finding some privacy. It would soon be much clearer how much they had erred.