Page 19 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
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 itthat 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.
Chapter Fourteen
Donovan could not sleep. If he were in his own flat, he might have had a drink or even a rare indulgence in pipe tobacco on his balcony to help ease his mind and allow the weariness of the world to take him.
But here, in the home of Emma’s brother, he had no such comforts. Not even a place he could sit with the assumption of quiet or privacy. The occupancy of the small place had been pushed to its limit, and any room that contained the potential for comfort was currently occupied as sleeping quarters. With the exception of Benjamin’s office, perhaps, but that place would do little to ease Donovan's mind as it was.
Soon, Donovan found himself pacing the halls in the dark of the night as he tried to find a way to distract his troubled mind. He would pause the smallest bit whenever he would walk by the room where Emma slept. He considered knocking, perhaps trying to talk to her. About what wasn’t precisely clear to him, but he felt confident that if anyone could bring him peace of mind it would be Emma.
Still, he tried to drive the thought from his mind. Besides being an extremely improper thing to do, it would also be rather rude to awaken someone in the middle of the night because he could not find sleep. It would be like disturbing someone’s meal to remark on the lateness of your own dinner.
That was Donovan’s feelings on the matter until he heard something one of the many times he paced by her door. It was there, and so faint that he almost thought he had nothing but his own footsteps, but the next time he caught it, the steps were slightly out of sync. Emma was pacing as well; Donovan was sure of it. Would it be too coarse to disturb her own sleeplessness? Would that be a boundary overstepped or perhaps even a boundary he was willing to test?
The internal debate was arduous, but brief, as Donovan stepped forward and knocked on the door. He did so softly, not wanting to appear threatening, but he also tried to do so loud enough that the noise could be mistaken for nothing else.
The pause before the door opened was long enough to make Donovan intensely uncomfortable. Had he finally gone too far? But there she was, clearly having been awake and not disturbed by his intrusion but instead a mixture of curious and concerned.
“Mr. Connor? What brings you at such a late hour? Is everything well?” she asked him. She didn’t open the door fully, but he could tell she wore a robe over her slip, one she likely borrowed from her brother given it was much too large for her.
“Truthfully, Miss Bradford, I cannot sleep. I get the impression that you are suffering from the same malady. I thought, at the very least, that we might as well suffer together,” Donovan expressed. Normally, he would have been a bit more subtle than that, but his tiredness had addled him, and he had not the energy to step around the subject.
Emma opened her mouth to speak but then seem to consider the matter a moment more. “It’s true; I cannot sleep either. Current matters race through my mind and wrest me from the hold of exhaustion, much as I would like to give over to it. What do you think we should do?” Emma’s question was genuine as she was exacerbated by the whole tired affair and simply wanted to rest.
“Personally, I suggest we don’t talk of any daytime matters and make an attempt at idle chatter instead until we have grown relaxed enough to let sleep take us. That is assuming that I am not proving to be an inconvenience,” Donovan was quick to add.
“Inconvenience? No, not at all. The company is as welcome to me as it is to you, I am sure,” she told him confidently. She then thought for a moment. It would be improper to invite him into the room, but they truly had little elsewhere they could go. Even it was improper, they had skirted so much already. No one would know, and Donovan was a good friend. Emma told herself many things to sooth her guilt, but in reality, she didn’t need to hear any of it. She was perfectly fine with Donovan being so close, even if she really wasn’t supposed to be.
They sat across from one another, letting the silence of the night surround them. Their bodies were tired, but their mindsawake. They both simply wanted something, anything to cling to, anything to make them forget about their troubles.
“The last thing I wish to discuss is the case, but I am at a loss to come up with another topic,” Donovan admitted.
“Do we need to talk at all?” Emma asked.
“Do you enjoy my company to the degree that my presence alone is enough to entertain?” Donovan asked with a hint of humor in his voice,
“I said we don’t have to talk. I didn’t say we had to do nothing,” Emma clarified.
Donovan arched an eyebrow “What are you suggesting as an alternative?”
“I don’t know,” Emma said uncertainly, not realizing her insinuation for another moment before her eyes grew wide. “Nothing untoward, of course.”
