“If you take someone with you to escort you, I do not object.”
“I can take my lady’s maid,” the duchess said.
“No, what will a lady’s maid do if you fall again? You practically hobbled into this room as it was this morning.” The duke turned in his chair, and Owen had to adjust his hold on the platter, pretending he hadn’t been holding it threateningly at all. “Mr Arnold, would your duties allow you to accompany my wife today to Bath?”
“Me, Your Grace?” Owen asked in surprise. Could it really be so simple to have time alone with the duchess?
“Yes.”
“I think I can move my duties around to accommodate it, yes, Your Grace,” Owen said, placing the platter on the table.
“Good, then that is settled. Mr Arnold is a better chaperone for such occasions. Hopefully, he will stop you from making a fool of yourself again,” The duke declared as he reached for the eggs, serving up more to his plate. Owen used the opportunity to catch Diana’s gaze across the room, smiling gently to her.
Her own returned smile was strained. She was clearly unsettled by the duke’s words, and even Owen couldn’t cover up the harshness of the words.
“When would you like to visit the modiste, Your Grace?” Owen said, moving to her side and pushing the milk and cream jugs towards her, using it as an excuse to speak to her.
“This afternoon, if it suits you.”
“Of course,” Owen said softly, knowing he would have happily abandoned any duty from his day to be there beside her. As the duke returned his focus to the newspaper, Owen felt weak and took a stolen touch.
He walked around the duchess, using his movement to hide the fact he passed his gloved hand along the duchess’ arm. The way she sighed in her chair showed him she felt it and took the same thrill in it that he did.
When he reached her other side, he pushed the platters towards her, still eager to see her eat well, then he looked up to the duke again.
He never even noticed it.
It seemed that the duke was blind indeed, not to notice his own butler touching his wife in front of him.
Chapter 11
“What do you think, Laura?” Diana asked as she turned back to the mirror and spun around again. The action hurt her ankle, and she hobbled out of it.
“The gown is lovely, Your Grace,” her lady’s maid kindly said as she hurried to tidy away the other gowns back into the closet.
“I suppose the effect is kind of marred because of this.” Diana lifted her hem just enough to reveal the bandage around her ankle. Laura offered a polite but restrained smile.
“Perhaps a little.”
Diana sighed and looked away. It seemed even her lady’s maid was determined to be polite and have no kind of informal encounter with her.
As she looked back to the mirror, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and used the reflection to see what it was. Jessie was still tending to the fire, as was her normal duty, but it was taking significantly longer than normal.
Diana parted her lips to ask what was taking so long when she promptly closed them again and looked down. She would have felt ashamed to ask a maid such a thing, in case it was an inference that the maid was not doing the job properly.
As she walked around the room, finishing preparing for her outing by collecting her reticule and pulling her spencer jacket on over her shoulders, she kept glancing back down to Jessie, only to find she was fussing with the smallest of things, like rearranging the poker on the hearth or swiping away fire ash from the mantle that would surely be dirtied again within minutes.
It was not the only odd thing about the situation, for Jessie was glaring at her once again. This time, there was no chance it could have been in Diana’s imagination, for Laura, the lady’s maid, moved behind Jessie and tapped her on the shoulder, in an action she clearly hoped was a subtle way to tell Jessie to stop.
You cannot continue to let this pass.
“Is something wrong?” Diana asked the two maids. They both looked at her. Laura’s eyes were startled, bearing a resemblance to a deer caught by the hunt, whereas Jessie’s were still narrowed on her. When neither woman replied, Diana nearly backed down, but something in her told her it was not the time to be hesitant. “Is there a problem with the fire?” she asked, gesturing to the hearth.
“No problem with the fire, Your Grace,” Laura said hurriedly and urged Jessie to her feet. Jessie slowly stood and picked up her brass bucket, full of fresh charcoal with a tinder box resting on top.
“That is right. No problem with the fire, Your Grace. Only the company in this room.” Jessie’s words were coupled with a harsh jerk of her head away as she turned and hurried for the door.
Diana felt her jaw slacken in surprise, darting her eyes between Laura and the retreating figure of Jessie as the door closed behind her.
