Page 23 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
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.
Chapter Seventeen
“Who did you say you were looking for again, Miss?” The gentleman’s smile was far too oily for Emma’s comfort.
“Mr. Connor and Mr. Herst, and I very much appreciate your assistance in finding them, Mr…. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“It’s Lord, actually, Lord Northgnell. I find the correct title of address is absolutely essential, don’t you?” Instead of looking offended, the gentleman’s smile was even wider and oilier than before.
“Of course, My Lord, I apologize. I did not know,” Emma said with a submissive dip of her head, which was proper of her to do when she erred in such a situation.
“Of course, you did not know. How could you know if I didn’t tell you?” the Lord said, quietly and to himself as if he werecontemplating a faraway thought. “You know, this Mr. Connor you are looking for, I have the strangest inkling-”
But before Lord Northgnell could finish the thought, both of them were suddenly grabbed.
