Page 9 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
Alistair gestured violently to the Duke and said, “Please, explain to him why you are here.”
The young man nodded and turned to Donovan. “I have a letter for the brother of the Duke of Lowe.”
Donovan nodded. “That would be him,” he said pointing to his brother, but then the young man shook his head.
“No, he said his name was Alistair Connor. The Duke’s brother’s name is Donovan,” he explained slowly as if the two aristocrats were the ones who were mistaken.
“You are looking for Donovan Connor?” Donovan asked, speaking very slowly himself, hoping maybe the delivery man would realize that he had erred.
“Yes, the brother of the Duke of Lowe,” the young man repeated, the voice on the edge of exasperation.
Suddenly, it all clicked into place for Donovan. “Ah, I see. Would that letter, perchance, be from a Miss Bradford?”
The young man’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s exactly who it's from!”
Donovan nodded. “That’s for me.” He held out his hand, and the delivery man hesitated only for a second before handing it over. Alistair balked at the ease in which his brother received the letter.
“Miss Bradford? As in Emma Bradford? That woman you’ve been pining over?” His brother jabbed at him as Donovan tried to read the letter.
“Yes, that Emma Bradford. It would appear she needs assistance in investigating the disappearance of her brother and asks that I come to his apartment as soon as I am able,” he informed Alistair while folding and pocketing the letter.
“Her brother disappeared? That's a run of bad luck, to be true. But why is she asking you for help?” Alistair asked.
“I told her that I am an investigator,” Donovan informed his brother, unable to fully mask the sheepishness that crept into his voice as he admitted the truth.
Alistair couldn’t help but laugh. “Wait. You mean to tell me that she thinks you aren’t the Duke of Lowe but an investigator?” Another moment passed before Alistair put it together. “Wait a minute, you told her I was the Duke? Why did you go and do a thing like that?” Alistair asked.
Donovan knew his brother was genuinely confused. He and his brother saw eye to eye on almost nothing, but one thing that he knew his brother would never grasp was any reason why Donovan might not want to be Duke of Lowe. He respected the lineage of the title too much to give it up for petty reasons, but Alistair could only ever see it as a boon. He was very naive that way, and Donovan tried not to hold it against him.
All of that aside, he had only wanted Emma to know who he really was, not just know him for his title.
“It’s complicated; perhaps I’ll explain it to you when I get back,” Donovan said brusquely before asking one of his footmen to grab his coat. Donovan then turned his attention to the delivery man, who he was surprised to note was still there. “Will there be anything else?” he asked.
“Well, I was just going to ask if you had a response. Seeing as I am currently technically in Miss Bradford’s employ at the moment. Thought you might want to send a letter back and giving it to me seemed pretty convenient for you is all, sir.”
“Oh, I see; I had assumed she hired a third party temporarily. If you are headed back, you may wait and ride with me in my carriage.”
Alistair snorted indignantly. “What? You’re going? Why would you go and help her after she went and broke your heart?” Alistair asked, fully baffled now.
Donovan turned to him as he prepared himself for a long day. “Because it’s my job, Alistair,” he said flatly. Alistair was more baffled after his brother answered than he ever was before.
Chapter Eight
“So,” the delivery man asked suddenly. “You aren’t the brother of the Duke. You are the Duke of Lowe, Your Grace?
Donovan’s eyebrow arched. Most people kept their heads down when it came to the matters of the aristocracy, and even if they eavesdropped, they wouldn’t say so directly. He couldn’t avoid the truth of the situation now though.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“And you told Miss Branford that you weren’t a Duke when you were.” The look of confusion on the young man’s face would have been comical if for the slightly pressing matter of the subject.
“I did,” he admitted again.
“May I ask why, My Lord?” the delivery man enquired.
Donovan stared at him for a minute. “I want to express something to you, and I want you to know I am not expressing this out of anger but genuine surprise. Most common people do not look to enquire on the matters of titleholders. Either out of awe, respect, or fear. Probably a mix of the three. But you ask more directly than anyone I ever met. Why is that?”
The delivery man gave a little laugh. “Has nothing to do with my perspective on people of your station, Your Grace. We are investigating the disappearance of my employer and benefactor, Miss Bradford’s brother. All questions need to be asked, especially because your name was in Mr. Bradford’s address book, but I’ve never heard of you. So, you aren’t above suspicion in my book just yet.”
