Page 5 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
“Right, I’ve had enough of this then!”
The light burned Donovan’s eyes badly as the curtains were ripped open and then the blankets yanked off his bed.
“What the bloody hell?” he said groggily, trying to shield his eyes to identify his assailant. His head pounded.
“Look at you. Hungover and not even for a good reason. You sat in your bedroom drinking wine and sulking. Wait a moment, is that the port? I was saving that!” Alistair snapped at him.
“Why do you care where I sulk?” Donovan sat up groggily. He had either fallen asleep fully dressed, or his footmen weren’t taking their jobs very seriously.
“I care not where, brother, but that you sulk at all. What do you have to sulk about?”
“Emma,” was Donovan’s only reply.
“You met her once. Do you know how many other women there are? Hell, we can go out, and I’ll worry about women while you can drink. But you have to drink in public and bathe before doing so,” Alistair offered.
“Why are you trying to rouse me from my self-imposed despondency?” Donovan asked.
“Because drinking at home is depressing, and if I go out and drink alone then it’s boring. Not to mention women don’t want to be approached by a man who drinks alone. They think he doesn’t have any friends,” Alistair explained.
“You don’t have any friends,” Donovan countered.
“That is not the…” Alistair uttered a cry of frustration. “This is why you need to socialize more. One woman bends you round the corner, and you hide away for days? What kind of sorry thing is that?”
“She was engaged before I even got the chance to know her…” Donovan lamented.
“Donovan, who cares? You didn’t know her.” His brother let out another cry of frustration before stomping out of the room and slamming the door.
Donovan stared at the door as it rattled in its frame, then he let out a sigh and stood, attempting to find a change of clothes and begin his day despite the throbbing in his head. The pain had only been made worse by his brother’s shouting.
He didn’t feel bad. He had as much pity for his younger sibling as Alistair had for him. He had hoped that one day his brother would be able to understand and have a little empathy, but he still didn’t have a lot of it. They had not been very young when their parents died, but Alistair had been younger. Donovan had wondered for a long time if the loss had turned his brother misanthropic, but he considered himself a poor judge. If there was a time that the Connor brothers weren’t at odds, Donovan couldn’t recall it.
He could have explained his frustration to Alistair, but past experience had taught him that such efforts were often not worth the energy invested. He wanted to believe he did not mourn that Emma was engaged… He wanted to convince himself that he mourned that he would never know what could have been. That the one moment he thought could have been something more was now going to never have a conclusion good or bad. That wasn’t completely the case though. The truth was, as much as he liked her letters, her physical presence awoke something in him, something no other woman had. This was why he was so upset by the loss of her.
He mourned the story that they would never share.
He was especially frustrated, either with her or himself, he couldn’t tell, that the half dozen letters he had sent in the month since their fateful encounter at the ball remained unanswered.
It was true, he wanted to remain friends with Emma. He would understand if she didn’t want to associate with him anymore, even if it hurt a bit, but there had been no reply. He didn’t know how she felt one way or another, and that was why he drank alone in his room. He had never dealt well with a lack of answers.
Emma stomped into her room and shut the door firmly behind her. She didn’t have a key to the door and wished she had. Not because she felt her aunt would come in after her without it, but because the definitive locking of the door would have felt much more final and less immature than shutting the door alone.
She heard her aunt’s footsteps close behind her door. “Emma, this is no way for a woman your age to behave.”
“Disregarding the emotions of your family members is no way for a woman your age to behave,” Emma countered. This was why she had separated them with the door. There was no way Emma could have said her piece while enduring the gaze of her aunt, but after robbing Aunt Barbara of her power, the conversation was suddenly on more even footing.
“I’m not disregarding how you feel, Emma,” her aunt said firmly. “I’m asking you to consider more than your initial feelings on the situation.”
Emma bit her lip to hold back her next words, for she knew she could not control how they would come forth. She had done exactly what her aunt had requested. She had been doing it for weeks.
Emma had been asked to stay for some time, so she could become more acquainted with her betrothed. Emma had offered a weak protest about her preparedness, that she had been whisked away from her home on short notice with none of what she needed. Before she could suggest that a new arrangement be made, one where Emma would have time to prepare beforehand, her aunt instead assured her that all her needs would be provided, and that they could send for her things.
Emma sent a letter to Martha, asking her to secure some necessities for her and formally asking her to look after the house while she was gone. She didn’t dare directly comment about her views to her sister but included some choice words in regard to the situation that she believed properly reflected her opinions on how things were proceeding.
She had considered briefly mentioning to Martha what had happened with Mr. Connor but thought better of it. She had so much to deal with presently, and the last thing she wanted to think about was what a debacle that situation was. She didn’t want to think about Mr. Connor at all, but she insistedher reasons were based on her humiliation and not the vague disappointment that nagged in the back of her mind.
Thus, after resolving all of that, the first time she got to sit with Mr. Dole was only a few days after the ball. Mr. Dole lived in the area of their townhouse and it would be easy to arrange frequent visitations and give them a real chance to get acquainted.
Emma was somewhat relieved about this, even if she was bothered by the circumstances that brought it to fruition. She did want to get along with Mr. Dole and thought that was what would be best to make the situation as tolerable as possible.
