He found himself leaning towards her when he was aware of her biting her lip, apparently noticing how close they were standing too, with those lips turning a darker shade of pink.
With the footsteps in the hallway retreating, he pushed away from her, moving deeper into the room.
“Please, Mr Arnold,” she said, following him. “I am merely asking for a game of cards.”
He couldn’t deny her, not when he had seen her smile so much these last two nights.
“This is our last night, though,” he said, holding up a finger. “Your husband returns tomorrow, and it hardly matters how innocent it is. No duke wants his wife playing cards with their butler.”
“As you wish,” she said, though she turned her head away, the sadness plain to see as she attempted to hide it.
Owen hurried to set up the card table, though he felt his eyes slipping to her every few seconds. He could see well enough how lonely she was, and he loved being the person to draw her out of that loneliness, but it could not last.
This has to end.
“What game shall we play tonight?” he asked, hoping to cheer her up. She took her seat between candles, with the flames casting her golden hair an orange colour.
“How about cribbage?”
“I do not know it.”
“Wonderful, I will teach you,” she said, collecting the cards. “You have proved yourself the finer card player at whist, so maybe if I am a poor enough teacher, I could win most of our games tonight.” He chuckled softly, realizing how much wit there was in her.
She is simply nervous to show it. That is all.
They had been playing for some time when the duchess won a round and they were leaning towards each other on the table, talking of what cards had been played and laughing about each other’s tactics.
“We should not be sitting like this,” Owen said, realizing just what they had done.
“What do you mean?” she asked, not moving backwards. He took one of the cards from his hand and gestured between them, showing how they were leaning towards each other, with so little space between them. “Is it abhorrent to you?” she asked, her voice so soft in its whisper he had to strain to hear it.
“No!” he said strongly. “I mean, no, of course not,” he said, adopting a more normal volume and glancing towards the door over his shoulder with worry at being overheard. “What I mean is…” He paused, looking at her. “You are a duchess, and I cannot even be your friend. Let alone sit as close to you as I am doing now.”
She tilted her head to the side, revealing a full smile. She was so close that he could have leaned forward and kissed her. The mere thought struck him suddenly, then bloomed within him. It was as though the thought of a kiss was as strong as a glass of whisky, tempting him to lean down towards her and lose himself in the intoxication she could bring.
“I did not think my words would make you smile then,” he said, his eyes flicking down to her lips.
What am I doing!?
“It was not your words that made me smile on this occasion,” she said, biting her lip another time. “It was the fact that despite what you said, you have not moved away.”
He smiled and had to hold in his chuckle, realizing how right she was as he looked down at where their bodies were positioned, with them both leaning towards each other on the table.
“You’re rather difficult to stay away from, Your Grace,” he confessed, feeling his body still refuse to move away. “Yet I will.”
“Yet you are still not moving,” she said, smiling up at him.
Do not tempt me, Your Grace.
A door closed somewhere off in the house.
“That … was the front door,” Owen said in realization. The duchess clearly knew just what that meant, for she jumped to her feet as he did too. Only one person came into the house through that door: the duke. All the servants had to use the entrance by the kitchen.
“He must be early,” the duchess cried in surprise and hurried to the door. “He was not due back until tomorrow.” She peered through a tiny gap between the doorframe and the door before looking back round with wide eyes. “He’s coming this way,” she whispered.
Owen pushed the chair he had been using at the card table back in, then muddled the cards, pushing away his hand so it looked like the duchess had been playing a game by herself. He looked around in hope for a tray or a glass of some kind, hoping to pretend to be at work, but they both simultaneously realized there was nothing.
“You will have to hide,” she whispered, coming back towards him.
