“I know,” he said, holding up a piece of almond paste in surrender. “You will not hear me talking of it to anyone. Though lord knows what the duchess sees in your company.”
“You are kind to me, my friend,” Owen said dryly before he became aware of someone standing at his side. Fearing they may have been overhead, he turned to see Jessie standing beside them. She darted her head to the side, sending loose copper curls over her shoulder.
“Are you talking of the duchess?” she asked. Owen released a shaky breath he had been holding, relieved she had not heard them completely.
“We are,” Tommie said. “I am hoping she will like the almond hedgehog.” He took the blanched almonds off another of the cooks and began to pepper the hedgehog’s back with its flakes.
“Really?” Jessie said, sounding dubious. “I could have sworn you would be asking something more interesting than that, Tommie.”
“Like what?”
“Like why our butler here seems to enjoy her company so much,” she said, turning to look at him with a mischievous smile.
“It is my responsibility to see she is served drinks and more. Unless you would like to take over the job for me? Though that might be a little unorthodox,” Owen said, hoping his dryness was a good mask for his fear.
“Hmm … I could have sworn she followed you into the wine cellar yesterday.”
“I went to the wine cellar. I believe our duchess went to the garden. Is that everything, Jessie? Or do you have a fire to make up in the drawing room ready for our duchess?” he asked, aware of how firm his voice had become. Jessie narrowed her eyes but hurried off to do his bidding.
“A little tip,” Tommie said, leaning over his hedgehog. “If you do not want people to ask questions, then do not reply to Jessie so defensively.”
“I cannot have her wondering anything, Tommie. If you are right and that she is the one warming our master’s bed at the moment, then …”
“Ah, yes, I see what you mean. She has the duke’s ear.” Then Tommie laughed raucously. “Well, I imagine she’s had much more of him than that!”
Owen wrinkled his nose at his friend’s humour and let his eyes follow the path Jessie had just taken out of the kitchen.
This was not good. If Jessie became suspicious of his connection with the duchess, then the duke could find out.
Chapter 6
Owen was walking into the drawing room carrying the carafe of port in his hand. It was cold to the touch, and it chinked with the silver wine label that hung around the carafe’s neck from a slim chain.
As he stepped through the doorway from where the drink’s cabinet was, he found the duchess standing eagerly by the card table, clearly intent on asking him to join her again. She was already shuffling the cards in her hands, with a smile on her face. A smile that made him ache, for he knew it would soon vanish.
This evening, he had managed to keep communication between the two of them over dinner to as little as possible, but with what Jessie had said the night before, he wasn’t going to risk anything again.
This ends now, Your Grace. Even if I wished it didn’t have to.
“So, what do you say to a game of whist tonight, Mr Arnold?” the duchess said excitedly, turning to face him as he placed a glass down for her on the table and poured her a port. “I think we need a re-match. You won so many of our last games; I would like a chance to be the victor tonight.”
He said nothing at first. He kept his stance formal as he finished pouring the port and stepped away.
“I am afraid, Your Grace, I cannot join you tonight.” He walked back to the drink cabinet in the other room, placing the carafe inside. He was careful to take his time about it, for he was so nervous of her reaction.
He valued his position here as butler. He was good at the job, well respected, and he wasn’t prepared to risk that, no matter how enchanted he was by the duchess, yet there were even more hurdles than this objection. So many that he couldn’t count them all.
As he walked back into the drawing room, he found she had frozen to the spot, with the port glass near her fingers on the table, though she made no effort to pick it up.
“Why not?”
“You must know the answer to that question even before I give it,” he said as he walked past her, heading to the door. He was moving fast, for the look of sadness growing in her eyes was beginning to make him ache. If he continued to stare at her, then he was in danger of capitulating and going even further than he had ever gone before. He would be at risk of taking her in his arms, embracing her …
“Wait,” she called to him. “Please?” He froze at the doorway, with his hand on the knob, not quite turning it to escape. “Is it because you feel our … friendship is wrong? Is that all? For I feel there is nothing wrong in it,” she said the latter part with so much animation that he looked back to her, seeing the pain in her face.
“It may not feel wrong, but logic tells me it is.” His words made her look down. It broke him, for it was so long since she had tried to hide from him in such a way that he released the door and took another step into the room. “You are a duchess, Your Grace. You cannot be seen to be keeping the company of a butler. For one thing, my position would be ruined, and I would lose my job.”
At this, she looked in pain, turning away and sinking down to the card table, sitting in a seat like there were weights on her shoulders. There was something awful about seeing her sitting there alone. “For another thing, I will not risk your own situation.”
