“Shall we concentrate on playing, Your Grace?” he said, breaking the silence as he played another losing card on hers.
“Why? Am I pushing your sense of propriety?” she teased.
“Perhaps a little,” he acknowledged. She laughed softly again as they lapsed into silence, playing cards. After a couple more rounds with occasional words spoken gently between them and soft laughs escaping Diana, she realized it was the first time in a long while she had laughed for such a prolonged period in an evening.
As Mr Arnold prepared to take his leave, begging it was high time he returned to his duties, Diana stood from the table as he did, not quite ready to let him go yet.
“Mr Arnold, I wanted to say thank you.” She couldn’t quite meet his gaze as she said it, feeling her nerves flutter in her stomach as though they were made of butterflies with their wings flapping constantly.
“What for?” he asked, his voice betraying his surprise.
“It may be only a card game to you,” she said quietly, “but the company means a lot to me.” She tried to swallow past her nerves and looked up to meet his gaze. “So thank you. I think this evening meant more to me than I can possibly tell you.”
It was a proper break down of barriers now. Had a wall been between them, she was climbing on top of it and waving at him. To her delight, he smiled.
“I would do it all again, Your Grace, just to see you smile in that way.” He bowed to her; only this bow was deeper and longer than he normally gave. It wasn’t just a mark of usual respect; it meant something more. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”
“Goodnight, Mr Arnold.” She watched as he walked towards the door, aware that he glanced back to her once, and it made her breath hitch. As he walked out of the door, she looked back down at the card table, realizing perhaps for the first time what had truly happened that evening.
We are not just a butler and a duchess anymore.
Chapter 4
“I should not,” Owen said as the duchess asked him again.
Owen turned in the marble hallway, feeling his leather shoes squeak against the marble before he turned back to face the duchess. She was looking at him with such hope that he felt something crack inside of him.
The first night of them playing cards had been an illicit treat, but a treat at that, and he had walked away from the room, determined that it would be the only time they ever transgressed in such a way.
This is a good job, and I am good at it. I will not risk being able to put bread on my table to play cards with the duchess, even when she is this enchanting!
Despite his decision, he had played with her a second night. That second time had been even more relaxed than the first. Now, she was looking at him hopefully, asking for a third night of cards.
“Why shouldn’t you?” the duchess asked, placing a hand on the drawing room doorframe as she glanced up and down the hallway, clearly as nervous of being seen having this conversation by the staff as he was.
“You know very well why I shouldn’t, Your Grace,” he said, taking a step towards her so he could lower his voice even more. “That is why you are looking up and down this hallway as nervously as I am.”
“I am merely asking you to play cards,” she said innocently. “Please.”
Hearing her plead with him made him desperately want to say yes, but this was risky indeed. He liked her. That he truly couldn’t deny now, not when he was thinking of the way her sadness marred her beautiful features and how he wanted to remove any trace of that sadness.
“It is not just playing cards,” he said insistently, watching as she tilted her head to the side. “It is …”
“It is what?” she asked.
Friendship.
That was something that couldn’t exist between them, even though he felt it existed already, especially after the night before. In that game of whist, he had dropped the cards at one point, leaving her to playfully rearrange what was left of his hand on the table. The laughter that had ensued had made him completely forget he was speaking with a duchess.
“It is too informal an association.”
“You are a mysterious man. You use few words when I have a suspicion you wish to use more,” she said, leaning on the doorframe and checking down the hallway another time. “You speak even more formally than I do on occasion too.”
“Well, it suits this moment, doesn’t it? When there should be more formality between us,” he said artfully, holding her gaze. It was a matter of a staring contest, one that she won, for he looked away when he heard a sound down the corridor. “Someone is coming,” he whispered.
She opened the door wider, and he had no choice but to move into the drawing room. He should be back below stairs at this time, overseeing the plans for the next day. With her evening drinks already served, he had no excuse to be there and had to hide. He hurried in, barely slipping by her without touching her.
When the door was closed, they both leaned against the door, pressing their ears to listen to it. With the two of them facing each other, Owen abruptly realized how close they were. Her scent was a strong one, intoxicating, rose water and bergamot.
