“What is this?” she asked Owen, pointing the newspaper towards him. “Have you heard of this, O-Mr Arnold?” she said hurriedly, hoping the man slicing the bread hadn’t noticed her slip.
“What is it?” he asked distractedly, arranging the milk and cream jugs.
“It says, ‘Raging fire drives tenants out of their homes in Bradford Leigh.’” She unfurled the paper, trying to read more of the article. “Wasn’t there a fire elsewhere recently?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Haymarket Field, I believe,” Owen said, keeping his tone formal as he walked around her. When Diana made no effort to serve her own food, she was aware Owen began doing it for her. She smiled and peered over the paper, looking up at him.
With the man still slicing the bread, she couldn’t speak freely, so she raised her eyebrows instead, showing she had taken note of Owen’s attempt to look after her. He winked at her just once, then continued with his task. “Was anyone hurt in the fire, Your Grace?”
She hurried to read the rest of the article.
“It seems a man suffered burns quite badly, but they believe he will recover.” She folded the newspaper up and placed it down again. “How awful! Are fires not rare?”
“Wayward candles can cause many an accident, Your Grace,” Owen said, still piling her plate high. “Wouldn’t you say, Stewart?” he addressed the man slicing the bread who looked up from his task once it was complete.
“They can indeed, Mr Arnold. Though I think it unlikely any man at Avon Acres would have such an accident.”
“What do you mean?” Diana asked.
“Well, forgive me, Your Grace,” Stewart said, looking most concerned that he might have spoken out of turn. “I know a man who lives in one of those cottages. They do not have much money, nor many candles. Some nights, they do not even have fires to ward off the chill.”
“Ah, I see what you mean,” she said softly, nodding her head. “How unfortunate their luck is to have a fire when they do not tempt fate so.”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” Stewart said with a bow before he walked out of the room.
Diana could tell Owen was looking down at her as he pushed the plate towards her.
“You really must start eating a little more,” he whispered to her, constantly glancing to the door out of fear of being seen.
“I merely do not have a huge appetite, that is all,” she said, but seeing the concern in his face, she wished desperately to see it gone and promptly turned the newspaper away and picked up her cutlery, diving into her food. She was part way through the first mouthful when she stopped chewing, thinking of what had just been said.
“Is something wrong?” Owen asked, clearly concerned.
“No, it is just …” She hurried to swallow. “Did Stewart say the fire was at a place called Avon Acres? In Bradford Leigh?”
“I believe he did,” Owen said, looking between her and the doorway through which Stewart had just left. “What of it?”
“Nothing, I just feel I have read of it somewhere before, and I can’t remember where.” She moved to her feet abruptly, leaving her plate.
“Your Grace!” Owen cried in surprise, picking up the plate and doing his best to follow her across the dining room with it.
“I will be back,” she said, but clearly, it was not enough to stop him. He followed her all the way to the library. Once they were inside, he pushed the door ajar, and both of their eyes went to the rug. Diana was distracted, thinking of what they had shared on that rug the night before. It made her blush and look back to him with a beaming smile on her cheeks.
“Do not say anything,” he whispered playfully.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Then do not even look at me like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you will make me want to go back to that rug,” he said, winking at her. She giggled, feeling deliriously happy at the memory as she turned away and sought out what she was looking for. She could still remember the feel of Owen between her legs and his hand, as well as the way he had looked at her, with adoring eyes, as though she were the only thing that mattered in the world.
“I rather like the idea of going back to that rug,” she said, reaching for her book,The Castle of Otranto.
“Do not tempt me.” Owen’s voice was much closer than she had anticipated it being, practically whispering in her ear as he placed her breakfast plate down on the desk beside the book. She shivered with delight at having him so close. “What are you looking for?”
She peeled back the book cover and sought the scrap of paper she had left there, lifting it up to her eyes to read it again. To her horror, it was just as she remembered it, a list of three place names.
