Page 2 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
Chapter Two
“I’m afraid, Lady Wanster, that I cannot wait here to meet your daughter,” Donovan Connor, Duke of Lowe, said in faux lament, “for I already told Lady Beverdeen that I would go and meet hers. Be certain that I will make the utmost effort to locate you as soon as I have a free moment.”
This was only a partial lie, just like the one he had fed to Lady Beverdeen by saying he was looking to talk to Lady Motten. Lady Motten was not in attendance at the ball, but Donovan knew that, by the time this was sorted out, it would be assumed that he had made a mistake.
Still, evading these sorts of introductions was exhausting. He would be more inclined to entertain them, even if he was interested in the young ladies themselves, if the ton wasn’t so set on monopolizing his time as an unmarried Duke.
It wasn’t that Donovan was uninterested in marriage, per se, but he was mistrustful of the motivation of the ladies and their mothers. He didn’t consider himself unattractive. He was tall and athletic with a well-cut face and a mop of curly brown hair, but ladies only saw one thing when they looked at him. He was a Duke, and that was all they saw him as. A bargaining chip, a playing piece to be utilized to secure them and their family a place of long-term comfort.
Donovan intended to slip into the ornate library of the manse where the ball was being held. He had noticed it upon his entrance into the home as the doors were opened, and the room was on display at first to demonstrate the grandeur of the home as a whole. The doors had been closed upon the commencement of the ball to limit the possible wandering of guests as much as possible. He had marked it in his mind as a good place to disappear if he needed to, and now he needed to.
Before he could disappear completely, he felt a hand, surprisingly strong for its size, gripping his shoulder firmly and holding him in place before turning him and bracing him against the wall. Before him stood the last lady he had wanted to see at this ball, the Viscountess of Lortimar.
“Duke Lowe, I thought I asked you specifically to send me a letter if you planned to be in attendance tonight.” She smiled sweetly. “I would have worn something a little less conservative.” She was whispering; her words would have been incredibly improper in the best of circumstances, but they currently were far from the best.
“Lady Lortimar, I am unsure if you could wear anything that would make you look any more appealing,” Donovan said with a guarded tongue. He had a powerful distrust for this lady. She did little to hide her lust for power as well as her lust for other things, and the sheer lack of regard she had for anyone put him off a great deal. Unfortunately for him, she had long ago set her sights on “claiming him” to use her own words.
“You are too cute for your own good,” she said, tapping the end of his nose with the tip of her finger. “I saw you trying to escape the ballroom. Where were you sneaking off to? Did you know I was here? Did you want to find us somewhere private before you made your move?”
“My Lady, have I expressed to you recently that you are far too forward for polite company, let alone for a married lady? What would the Viscount think if he could hear you right now?” Donovan tried desperately to deescalate the situation before she could get his claws into him.
“My husband is mostly deaf, darling. Old age will do that to you. Besides, don’t talk about infidelity as if it isn’t something everyone is doing. The thrill is half the fun,” she purred, leaning even closer to him.
Donovan turned his head and widened his eyes. “My Lord?!” he said with surprise, causing Lady Lortimar to pull away and turn in surprise to see who had caught them. By the time she hadrealized that the hallway was empty and turned back, Donovan was gone.
Donovan let out a sigh of relief as he slipped into one of the servant’s entrances to the library, having only just managed to avoid Lady Lortimar’s eye and found the privacy he sought at last.
Once he had got comfortable, he reached into the inside of his jacket to find the letters he had stowed there. A few years ago, he had written a paper arguing against the merit of the Smith geological map. A few weeks later, he had received a letter from Emma Bradford informing him that he was quite incorrect about several assertions. He took the time to reply and correct where he felt she was mistaken. Although it may have begun a bit contentiously, their letters quickly warmed up and became amicable and then friendly.
Donovan’s feelings about Emma had always been a bit complicated, but recently he could not get her out of his head. Her most recent letter had been different though. The tone was always pleasant and friendly, regardless of the topic, but this time she was open, forward. She had asked of him something, something she had never done before, and said she wanted to meet him.
The prospect of meeting her, of meeting the one woman Donovan believed made any real effort to understand him, excited him. He was rereading the letter for the third time thatday. He was also deeply interested in some of her phrasing. She said she “was wanting of the company of a gentleman”. What could she want a gentleman for? His mind swam with possibilities.
He was so engrossed that he flinched slightly in surprise when he heard the door to the library open. He looked up to see with a mixture of relief and frustration that it was his brother Alistair.
“Thought I saw you sneaking off in here,” Alistair said with a haughty laugh, “What? Need to recover from all the fawning? Isn’t that the worst.” He clucked his tongue and tossed a nut into the air, catching it in his mouth. He had smuggled some of them from the ballroom away with him, typical Alistair. Instead of leaving, like Donovan would have much preferred, he leaned against a table by the door. “Reading that letter from Lady Cheek, again?”
“I told you not to call her that,” Donovan said, frowning. Over the years he had grown accustomed to his younger brother’s attitude and was tolerant of more than he perhaps should be, but he would not abide his brother insulting a woman, any woman, in his presence.
“My apologies, brother. Please, when you get around to responding to that letter, make sure and give dear Emma your brother’s regards,” Alistair informed him. This immediately soured Donovan’s mood all the more. Alistair had chosen to remind him of the fact that he had managed to read a portion of his letter collection, something that needled Donovan quite a bit.
“Why are you here? Did the food and dance lose its allure to you? Is harassing me the only way you can make life taste sweet on your lips again?” Donovan asked, letting a bit of the bitterness towards his brother slip out.
Alistair sneered, “Believe it or not I’m here to help you.”
“Help me?” Donovan asked with confusion.
“You are in here swooning over a woman who you only know from a handful of letters while there are a dozen proper ladies who would be beating down the door to meet you if they knew you were in here.” He pointed in the direction of the door. “That’s where you need to be, not in here fantasizing.”
“What is it about Emma that you find so unacceptable?” Donovan questioned, piercing through his brother’s double talk with familiar ease.
“Where do you think I came up with the title I bestowed upon her? Lady Cheek?” Alistair said flatly. “Imagine the gall of a woman who writes a man to argue with him. She has a lot of opinions, and she only voices more as the letters go on. Do you think that’s any sort of woman you should be associating with? She’s going to make you look bad, mark my words, Donovan.”
Donovan sighed and stood. “As much as I hate to admit it, you are right. I am wasting my time hiding in this library.”
Alistair’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting this sort of concession from his brother. “Well then, I am glad you are starting to come to your senses. Now let’s go out and see if there is a lady who can catch your fancy. And if I am lucky, she will have a friend that she’ll introduce me to.”
Donovan shook his head. “No, I was wasting time hiding in here from those women because there are some solicitors that I knew would be at this party that I wanted to speak to about mother and father. It does their memory an injustice if I prioritized my social comfort over helping set their deaths right.”
