How am I supposed not to think too much about this?
“You frightened me today, Your Grace,” he said as he lowered her hand, still holding it in both of his. He softly caressed it, drawing across the back of her hand small circles with his bare thumb. Each circle made her lean more towards him, off the pillows settled against the bedhead.
“I am sorry. It was not my intention.” Her confession was met by a solemn slow nod.
“I should go before anyone notes my absence,” he said, slowly disentangling their hands. She didn’t let him do it and clung onto his hand a little longer, pulling a smile from him. He almost laughed, almost … she could see it as he lifted her hand to his lips again. “When you pull at me like that, you make me not want to go.” He kissed the back of her hand for a third time.
“Then do not go.”
“Do not tempt me.”
“Please, Mr Arnold,” she said, her voice so quiet that he was leaning down towards her to hear her. “With you kissing my hand in such a way, how can we go back to being just a butler and a duchess?”
“You will never be just a duchess to me,” he said slowly, keeping his gaze on her hand as he released her.
“Then … this resolution to stay away from me, is it …?” She trailed off, uncertain how to put it into words.
“It seems I will not listen to reason. I cannot stay away from you, Your Grace.”
She smiled at the words, trying to move towards him again in the bed, but a shock of pain shot through her ankle, pinning her in place.
“You must rest,” he said gently, placing a hand to her shoulder. “I will be back soon with a dinner for you.”
“Would you sit with me over dinner?” she asked. She didn’t care if it was bold anymore.
“You wish me to?” he said, still not removing his hand from her shoulder.
“You are the one person I trust in this house, Mr Arnold. The one person whose company I desire. Please, just one dinner.”
“As you wish,” he said, smiling. “Rest now.” He looked tempted to take her hand again, but he appeared to resist. He bowed to her and hurried to the door, hesitating just long enough in the doorway for them to share a stolen smile before he closed the door and left her in peace.
Diana sat back on the pillows, with her heart thudding so fast from those kisses to her hand that it was impossible for her to rest or sleep now. Instead, she reached for the loose parchments where she had started to write a story and decided to write a little more.
Her characters were beginning to take shape. A little inspired byThe Castle of Otranto,she wrote of a woman trapped in a house where secret darkness lurked. She had to escape this evil, but the mystery was just how dangerous this evil could truly be.
***
“Good God, what a foolish thing to do.” The insult was a scathing one.
Diana placedThe Castle of Otrantoover her written pages, down on the writing desk in the library, determined to hide it from her husband as Gilbert strode around the room. Her incident in the snow had been two days ago, and though her ankle was recovering, it was slow progress.
After her dinner, sitting all alone in the dining room, she was eager not to spend another evening in her bedchamber, so she had come to the library to work on her story. With her foot resting on a cushioned stool beneath the pedestal desk, she had been in the middle of writing when the duke had returned home from his latest trip, to hear of what had happened.
“It was not intended,” Diana said carefully, pretending to read the pages of her book. “I merely wished to walk in the snow. It is something many a person does without injury. I was unlucky and slipped.”
“Clearly your constitution cannot take anything so simple as a walk.”
Diana flinched and felt her lips part, ready to argue. She did not need mollycoddling or belittling in such a way, but neither could she argue with the duke.
He told me I must be obedient.
“You will have to avoid such foolish things in future.”
“I was unlucky, Gilbert. That was all.” She pressed the matter again, aware that he stopped mid-stride and stared at her across the library, through the orange candlelight. “Are you back from your trip for a few days?” Her question worked to change the topic, for he looked away and busied himself with other books.
“No, I simply came back to collect some paperwork. I will be staying tonight in the townhouse in Bath.”
“Is business going well?” she asked, attempting to make conversation. Yet Gilbert’s sharp look made her feel smaller in the chair, and she looked down at her book again.
