Page 37 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
But there it was, the nagging doubt in her mind. Donovan had lied to her about who he was. Was it possible that he lied to her about so much more? Promises are fickle when coming from someone comfortable with lying.
Did she really suspect him? She forced herself to confront that thought. To know it for its ugliness and its necessity. To swallow the cold, uncomfortable lump of analysis past the swell of emotions within her.
Mr. Herst had voiced that Donovan’s involvement had a note of suspicion to it. His willingness to assist for no promise of recompense. The convenience of his appearance with the timing of her brother’s disappearance. A lot of coincidences didn’t add up. Not to mention, Donovan hadn’t made a very convincinginvestigator. Emma had recently attributed that to Donovan actually being a Duke, but what if it went further than that?
Still, even with these little grains of doubt, Emma was certain it wouldn’t matter. She didn’t believe for one moment that they would find her brother locked in Donovan’s wine cellar. That was why it was so devastating when that was exactly where they found the missing Benjamin Bradford.
Lowe Manor had a relatively small number of attendants since Donovan and his brother never kept regular residence there. So, it was quite a shock to the handful of workers, who rarely saw more than one or two guests a year, to have a whole wedding plus a constable escort show up at the same time.
The butler was insistent that he talk to Donovan before they proceeded with the investigation. But even if Donovan had the patience, which at the time he didn’t, the constables were not keen on allowing any sort of collaboration or communication. So, the group simply marched passed the sputtering butler and to the cellar.
Donovan’s cellars were sprawling as was common in the house of a Duke. Much food was meant to be stored to support a larger home, but for now the larder was hosting only a small portion of what it could hold, giving the place an almost catacomb like air.
The wine cellar, on the other hand, was quite full. Wine was precious and long lasting; the cool darkness would continue toage and preserve the precious bottles for years to come. Because of the nature of wine, though, the wine section of the cellar had to be kept in the farthest, darkest corner. It was in the back of the wine cellar, the darkest corner of the darkest corner, where they found Benjamin.
“Benjamin! Benjamin, please wake up!” Emma’s voice cried out, echoing loudly in the stone halls of the sprawling wine cellar beneath the grounds of Lowe.
The young man had been unconscious when they found him. He was bound at the wrists and ankles, his clothes torn and matted with filth, and his face covered in pox. The doctor would later say that they were chemical marks where he was drugged and kept in a stupor.
Donovan was not allowed to stay in the basement long enough to hear the reactions of those present. The constables insisted upon escorting him upstairs for questioning while the young man’s family checked in on the seriousness of his condition.
Benjamin was slouched in a corner, filthy bandages wrapped almost entirely around his head. His hands and feet were free, but his wrists showed signs of being recently bound. The Bradford father paced back and forth in the narrow cellar hallway, trying to collect himself and choose a course of action. He was quietly beside himself and wringing his hands with worry, repeatedly checking with Emma who had rushed to tend to her brother as she always had.
Martha, on the other hand, seemed quite angry about the whole ordeal though not sure where to direct her anger. One moment she would be fuming about Donovan, next at Benjamin for making them all worry, then the constables for their inaction.
Aunt Barbara was normally calm in difficult situations, so it didn’t surprise anyone when she remained stoic, watching as the scene unfolded in the wine cellar of a Duke.
To Emma’s relief, Benjamin regained consciousness, though his disorientation would last a while longer. It was only after he had been resting for a while in a nearby inn, no one thinking it appropriate to remain in the Duke of Lowe's home during the investigation, that he began to make sense.
“Oh god, Emma, it feels like someone has been working my head over with a bottle I drank by myself,” Benjamin groaned as Emma clutched worriedly at his hand. She handed him some water, which he drank greedily. “Thank you.”
“Benjamin, we have all been so worried about you!” she cried, resisting the urge to hug tight to her ailing brother.
“Have you? How long have I been gone?” Benjamin asked, trying to blink and rub his confusion away.
“A few weeks,” Emma told him solemnly.
Benjamin shook his head and cursed beneath his breath. “Everything was so confusing. I knew time was passing but that much?” He cursed again.
“Ssh,” Emma said with a nervous smile. “Father has returned, and he won’t excuse language like that even given the circumstances.”
“Father returned because I was missing?” Benjamin asked, a hint of surprise in his weak voice.
Emma nodded. “In part,” she admitted. “There was also a wedding. My wedding.”
Benjamin's eyes widened. “You were going to get married while I was missing?”
“It is a little complicated,” Emma said with a sigh and began to recount the abridged version of her two recent betrothals, emphasizing that while she did fall in love with Donovan, the marriage was still in part out of her concern that he be found.
Benjamin nodded. “I see, so I was being sought the whole time I was missing.” He chewed his lip. “I was afraid of that.”
“What do you mean, Benjamin?” Emma asked.
“When I was taken, I was struck from behind. My eyes and ears were covered at all times, and any time I was moved about, I was made to smell a noxious fluid that disoriented me. I haveno idea what my captor or captors look like. I was hoping that my discovery meant the perpetrators were found out, but now I see that might not be the case. But then, how was I found?” Benjamin asked quizzically. “Given the story you have told me, I can’t imagine that His Grace, the Duke of Lowe, had anything to do with this, even if I was in his cellar.”
“That was what I was hoping you could tell me. I don’t think Donovan would do such a thing, but with no explanation about how you ended up in Lowe... Well, I just don’t know what to think.” She paused, wringing her hands as her thoughts filled with worry. “We will bring you home while the constables sort out the matter. Whatever is discovered by the authorities will have to be the truth of it.”
“Are you sure you want to head back?” Benjamin asked her. “If the rest of the family is here, they can escort me home. Should you not be with your betrothed?”
