Page 24 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
“Enemies? No, no, in fact, I was recently telling the good Mr. Bradford that part of his problem was that he had no enemies,” Father Trout told Donovan and Herst.
“I’m sorry to hear that the lad is missing, though. Glad somebody, a Duke of all people, is on the case,” Reverend Trout said stiffly. “Though like I was saying before, I have a hard time imagining the young man causing enough of a fracas to warrant any sort of ill will, let alone any malfeasance.”
Donovan nodded again, more definitely this time. “Well, when we find Mr. Bradford, we will make sure to let him know how helpful you were in our investigation.”
“I’m sure you will, Your Grace,” the reverend said as they shook hands.
Mr. Herst spoke soon after they departed the church board’s chambers. “What do you make of all that?”
“Well, as unhelpful as a lack of information can be, I think it has helped me reach a certain conclusion,” Donovan admitted.
“What's that?” Herst asked.
“Miss Bradford!?” Donovan exclaimed.
“Miss Bradford?” Mr. Herst asked, his voice filled with confusion.
Donovan grabbed the younger man’s shoulders and turned him to face down the hall to the unfortunate scene that was playing out before them. Lord Northgnell was speaking with Emma.
As Donovan and Mr. Herst rushed over, hoping to intervene before the Lord could give up the Duke’s secret, they could hear the conversation playing out before them. Donovan swore under his breath. “What do we do? We have to get them apart.”
“I’ll distract the Lord, Your Grace,” Mr. Herst whispered harshly. “You get Emma away from him. Agreed?”
Donovan nodded and moved forward with determination despite having no real idea what he or Mr. Herst was going to do. As he came upon Emma, he saw a nearby door. He hated the idea of such a breach of decorum and Emma’s autonomy, but so much more rode on this, and letting that sniveling worm of a Lord ruin him would be something he would not accept.
Donovan’s plan was to pull Emma away from Lord Northgnell and through the door behind her then come up with an excuse when he had more time to think. What he was not anticipating was the room he was pulling her into was a broom closet.
They moved into the closet with such force and suddenness that they were pressed together by their own momentum. The closet, being a closet, offered little room to navigate away, not that that was much of a focus on either of their minds.
Nor were the muffled sounds of clamor drawing much of their attention either. Though it did sound as if whatever was transpiring between the Lord Northgnell and Mr. Herst was quite the tumult indeed.
No, what absorbed Emma and Donovan completely was how close they were; how much they were touching. Not since that night in the garden had they come so close. Something they had both been avoiding that could no longer be avoided was evidently why. The heart, the tension that jumped between them, was so palpable that Donovan was certain he could feel Emma’s heartbeat against his own chest.
Emma’s breath hitched, but she managed to speak. “M-Mr. Connor, why did you pull me into this closet?” she was whispering. Donovan didn’t know why she was whispering and neither did Emma.
“Well…” Donovan was not good at improvising in normal circumstances, but, at the present moment, his mental capabilities were entirely compromised. “I have a reputation at the Inn of Courts. One I didn’t want you getting caught up in.”
“A reputation?” Emma’s voice was more intrigued than he expected.
“Yes, well, an important investigation brought me here and... I am afraid I didn’t earn myself many friends.” Donovan’s lie was so close to the truth it made him uncomfortable, but also it made it that much easier to tell.
“Oh,” she answered and then, much to Donovan’s surprise, she giggled.
“What is funny?” he asked, curious rather than indignant.
“I’m surprised you are so invested in preserving your good name in my eyes, Mr. Connor,” she told him.
“Well... I certainly would never want you to think any different of me,” he said with a small smile, just barely visible in the dark of the closet.
“You wouldn’t?” she asked, a hint of playfulness in her voice. “You want it to stay the same as now? What if I could think more of you?” she asked softly.
“I think you expressed that thinking any more of me might be improper,” he told her.
“So is staying in this closet, but I believe we may have been able to leave for some time now,” she countered.
“Do you feel inclined?” he asked.
“Do you?”
