Page 46 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
“I’ll consider it,” he responded coyly, but when he saw her pout, he couldn’t help but reassure her. “Of course, dearest,” he said while he planted a kiss on her forehead.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Oh honey, it's wonderful!” Emma called out as the carriage approached Donovan’s family home. She was so glad she finally had a chance to see it for what it was, and not a destination veiled in an aura of threatening anxiety and dread. The old home was crawling with ivy and an allure that could only come with true age. It wasn’t truly ancient by any means, but the foggy recesses of Lowe made it feel as if they hadn’t just traveled miles from London but years as well.
“It certainly became harder and harder to avoid returning throughout the years,” Donovan admitted, “but being a Duke offers no shortage of excuses, I suppose.”
“Avoid?” Emma asked. “I thought you didn’t return because you were busy.”
“It started like that,” Donovan told her. “I would leave to follow up one lead or another in London, and the idea of returning just became so unbearably painful.”
“Oh,” Emma said quietly. She was going to say more on the matter, but the carriage came to a halt in front of the manor. She made a mental note to return to the topic as they stepped out of the carriage and towards the entrance.
They were greeted curtly by the staff, and Emma noted that the warmth that should have been present wasn’t there. Donovan commented on it a moment later when they ascended the stairs to assess the state of the master bedroom. “I kept the house at minimum attendance, so it would not fall into disrepair. All people who were loyal to my parents, but I have seen them rarely, so our relationship is a bit... chilly. I am having the few of the staff from my flat who wish to come from London transferred,” Donovan noted but said little more on the matter.
Emma wasn’t aware of the confrontation that had occurred between him and his house only days before. Donovan didn’t blame the attendants, but he was hardly surprised in the rift in morale over it.
The master bedroom was elegant and rich. Donovan had the place redone in rich red velvets to welcome the newlyweds. Before it had been adorned in the sky-blue silks that his mother adored. Even so, the very memory of the change he had arranged brought the pang of what once was to his heart. He wasn’t so sure he was ready to be back here after all.
As if his heart beckoned the words from his love, Emma spoke, “You must be relieved to have discovered Mr. Dole’s involvement in your family’s tragedy.” Emma’s voice was clearly hesitant, but she pressed on, “It isn’t necessarily entirely dealt with, but it provides some closure, I’m sure.”
“It’s funny,” Donovan said thoughtfully. “I had hoped for years that it wasn’t my father’s gambling that had been the cause of their death; that it had been some grand romantic injustice. Childish hopes. I think I even knew then. But that isn’t what has bothered me at all. It is the fact that, really, my investigation, the one I carried out for years, didn’t amount to anything. It was pure happenstance that the man who you were betrothed to happened to be the one who was tied to the death of my parents.”
There was a brief quiet. That was when the footmen happened to bring their bags to the room, but the Duke and Duchess barely noticed their presence. Donovan’s mind was in the past, and Emma’s was with trying to pull Donovan back.
Donovan stirred from his memories when he felt the soft hand of his wife rest on his arm. “Donovan, there was a sinister plan taking place around us, and while you might not have deduced who was making the moves, your kindness, love, and trust in others made it so that we could get through it together. Alistair, Mr. Herst, and I, we trusted you enough that we came to your aid when you needed us. To inspire others to your side is something very few men can do and even fewer can harness for good. You may never be the keenest investigator, my love, but your nature makes you a perfect leader of men. An ideal Duke, I might add.”
Donovan stared at his wife for a long moment, contemplating her words. Slowly, they were able to crack through the firm, thick shell he had built around himself for decades. His parents’ deaths didn’t matter anymore. And with that crack, so too did the revelation of the mystery of the murders closing. The answers were there for him, and those who could be held accountable would be. He could move on.
“Now I remember why I looked forward to your letters so much,” Donovan remarked with a smile.
Emma felt her cheeks burn as she blushed lightly. “Why is that, dear husband?”
“You were the one with the keen intellect and wisdom that I always valued and admired. And obviously, these are qualities I desperately needed from someone in my life, even if I hadn’t realized it. Perhaps it wasn’t fate that brought Mr. Dole to me, but fate that brought us together instead,” Donovan concluded with a smile that said he had just discovered something brilliant.
Emma chuckled at the look on his face but didn’t think it was inappropriate.
“You don’t agree?” Donovan asked.
“The thing is, we first got in touch with one another when I responded to an inaccuracy you concluded in a science pamphlet. I just find it very humorous that your view of fate’s grand design began with you making a mistake,” Emma remarked with her voice full of mirth, holding back chuckles.
Donovan couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Seems to be a consistent fate in mind for me. All the more that you are present to make sure to correct me when I have drawn all the wrong conclusions.
Emma crossed the bedroom and put her hand on her husband's arm. “I hope I’m here to be here whenever you need me.” And they shared a sweet and simple kiss.
For the discussion of their place in the tapestry of fate, it would not be until much later that Emma and Donovan would realize that Lowe Manor did not become a home again until once again a Duke and Duchess took residence there, bringing all things full circle in their resolution. Though this did not surprise either of them, Donovan had a habit of missing the obvious, and Emma, though she never admitted this to her husband, didn’t believe in fate at all.
“Donovan,” Emma spoke a bit hesitantly, “I have something to confess to you.’
“Little late to confess to something after our wedding, don’t you think darling,” Donovan joked.
“I’m serious,” she insisted.
Donovan heard the sternness in her voice and was right there at her side to comfort her. “I am sure whatever it is, I will understand.”
“The letter,” Emma began hesitantly, “the rather... risqué one. Do you remember?”
“Ah, yes. I was always rather curious about that,” he mused.
