Page 18 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
“I’m beginning to understand why Mr. Bradford was so private,” Herst remarked to Donovan off to the side.
Donovan pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. “Excuse me,” he said, interrupting the growing cacophony, “but if I could ask just a few more questions.”
“Oh, if it means finding my Benny, then of course,” Jenny said earnestly.
“How long have you and Mr. Bradford been, um, courting?” Donovan asked.
“Oh, I think it's about a week away from five months,” Jenny said thoughtfully.
“Really?!” Emma gasped but then quieted when she saw Donovan give an exasperated look.
“And have you ever known him to have any enemies or people who would want to do him harm?” Donovan asked.
Jenny shook her head, “None that I can think of. He is a sweet man, who would want to hurt him?”
“Who indeed,” Donovan remarked. “There was no one who might have been jealous over your relationship with Mr. Bradford,” Donovan asked curiously.
“Not anyone with more rocks in their head than good sense to risk getting on my bad side.” She laughed with a rough snort which caused Herst to chuckle nervously.
“And,” Donovan leaned in and spoke a bit more hushed, “your father? How did he feel about your and Mr. Bradford’s relationship?”
“Ah, Pa was a bit sore at first,” Jenny said with a knowing nod. “He is the type that sees hard work in the form of calluses and muscles. Worried that a soft man like Benny wouldn’t be able to support me. But as soon as he saw how much my sweet Benjamin cared about me, they became the best of friends. My Pa is more likely to bust someone good for speaking ill of Bennythan to think about harming a hair on him, if that's what you are suggestin’.”
“Not suggesting,” Donovan assured her. “Just inquiring. Covering my steps. To be frank, ah, Jenny we have come up fairly dry on leads, so I want to make sure I ask everything I can. I don’t suppose you have a direction you could point us?” Donovan asked unexpectedly.
“Well, I don’t know how much of a lead this is, but he used to have a lot of problems with that place that all the solicitors go to.” She seemed to mull over the words slowly.
“The Inn of Courts,” Herst volunteered helpfully.
Jenny nodded, “Yeah, that's it. The Inn of Courts. He said the men there didn’t respect him and were always treating him really poorly. Did not want him to succeed and were being unfair and all that. Biased, he said.” She nodded seriously. “That's the closest thing I ever hear him talk about to having an enemy.”
Donovan jotted down a couple of notes on the matter. “Thank you very much, Jenny. You have been very helpful.” He was exaggerating just a tad but did appreciate the young woman’s help all the same.
“You will tell me if you find him, right?” she said, worry finding its way to her voice once more. “You will let me know that he is okay.”
“You’ll be the first person we tell,” Emma assured her while patting her hand.
Chapter Thirteen
The group had agreed to retire for the evening when they returned from the tavern. Both Emma and Donovan were slightly less than truthful about the exact reason they wanted to retire for the evening. Emma said she was feeling tired, and Donovan said he had to think. Neither directly lied, but the whole truth of the matter was obfuscated.
Donovan wanted to think about the investigation, about what he thought of the interview with Jenny, what it meant, and whether he believed her. He did, but he wished he didn’t because the only lead he got from her was not one he knew if he could pursue.
He had been able to obfuscate his identity for this long, if just barely. But the Inn of Courts was a place he had become acquainted with very well in the pursuit of justice for the deaths of his parents. He had not only been present publicly and often, but he had asserted his station on more than one occasion in order to make certain that he would get answers, and they would be truthful ones. This hadn’t won him many friends in the Innof Courts. Maybe not enemies, but certainly no one willing to protect the secret of his identity.
This shouldn't have surprised him. Truthfully, he wasn’t much of an investigator. He had only tried to solve one other crime and had been unsuccessful. Emma had trusted him enough to get him this far, trust in the techniques he practiced unfounded. Would an actual investigator have solved this by now? Was he putting Emma’s brother in more danger by prolonging this farce? He had assumed that those years of investigating his parents’ deaths would provide him with enough know-how to handle this, but now he was days in and floundering.
Before he could let himself be swallowed by the quickly darkening cloud of guilt that hovered above him, he heard a knock at the door. His throat tightened when he bid the knocker enter, and he was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when Herst walked through the door.
“Ahem, Mr. Connor, I have a question that should only take a moment of your time,” the young man assured the Duke.
“I have had an incredible amount of difficulty answering questions as of late,” Donovan said with a sigh, “but I will do my best.”
“Yes,” Herst said uncertainly before continuing. “Believe me, I appreciate your commitment to helping us find Mr. Bradford. But I can’t help but wonder, don’t you have, well, lordly duties to be carrying out? How do you have time to commit to this singular issue?”
Leave it to someone else to ask the very question Donovan had been avoiding asking himself all along. He let out a sigh. “Truthfully? I don’t. I am sure I have at least a half a dozen duties that I have left neglected at this moment.”
“But why?” Herst asked, confused. “I am sure Miss Bradford would understand if you had to step out from time to time. Even as an investigator under her employ, you wouldn’t be expected to only be working for her. So... it doesn’t even work to your lie. Why commit so much of yourself?”
