Owen pulled Diana towards the place, urging her in through the small gap that stood for its entrance.
“Oh, it’s cold in here,” Diana whispered as the wind rattled through the narrow gap, bristling their clothes and hair.
Owen hurried to place his painting down on one of the curves in the carved stonework before turning his eyes out of the gap, trying to see just who had been following them.
No one appeared, but a sound followed of boots trudging through the frozen earth. Owen lifted a finger to his lips, urging Diana to be quiet. She nodded, showing she understood. He strained his face against the gap even more, trying his best to see something of who was walking, but they didn’t appear.
Instead, the sounds of the footsteps faded away, drifting into the distance. Only when he couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore did he sigh and turn back to Diana.
“They have gone,” he whispered.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “They do not know we are here?”
“No.”
“Thank God.” She reached up towards him. She was so quick that Owen was not quite ready for it and nearly fell back against the grotto wall in surprise as she kissed him. He laughed against her lips as he wrapped his arms around Diana’s waist and nestled her firmly against his chest, deepening the kiss as much as he could.
“That was rather eager,” he whispered playfully.
“Well, as you said, no one knows we are here.”
He rather liked the idea and kissed her again. He would go no further, not out here when she deserved a bed and comfort, but he maintained the kiss as much as he could, wanting Diana to feel both loved and adored.
***
Diana hurried out of the dining room towards the letters piled on the edge of the hallway table by the front door. She searched the papers, eagerly looking for her name, but there was nothing written to her, all of it was for her husband. She stood back again, trying to hide her disappointment.
“Well, it could take a long time for them to write back,” she whispered into the air, knowing it to be true yet longing for it not to be the case. Now she had written off to the publisher, she wished to know their answer at once.
There was a sound beside her, and she looked round to see Owen leaving the dining room along with some of the maids, emptying the table from Diana’s breakfast. Diana tried her best to catch Owen’s eye, clearly seeing he was trying to avoid looking at her in case he gave anything away. She continued with her effort, though, thrilled when he directed the last maid out of the room and looked to her at last, offering a wink. She smiled at that wink and offered a tiny wave in parting as he followed the maids towards the staircase for the servants’ quarters.
Even after he was gone, Diana felt a silly smile upon her cheeks.
“I hope this lasts,” she whispered as she crossed into the sitting room, eager to find some warmth by the open fire. With the duke away, she had a little more freedom with Owen. They could meet more often, without fear of discovery. There was something more that Diana longed for, though.
Freedom.
She wished to be with Owen properly, not having to creep around and wait for him to return looks that could not be observed. She wished to be able to visit him at night too. The memory of him pleasuring her still burned within her, making her long to repeat the night together, only they hadn’t been able to. Not yet.
Diana was just resolving herself to invite Owen to her chamber that night when she caught sight of someone in the sitting room.
Her feet fell still, stopping her from reaching the fireplace at all, for in front of the fire a maid was kneeling, stirring the embers to life. The maid’s head turned, revealing the copperish-coloured hair and the sharp eyes of Jessie. Diana tried her best not to recoil at that harsh look.
“Good morning, Jessie,” she said quietly, with her hands beginning to fidget.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” The way Jessie added the words though suggested there was no respect at all.
“Thank you for preparing the fire. I am sure that will be fine.” Diana crossed to a nearby chair and sat down quickly. “You can attend your other duties.”
“This fire needs a little more attention first.” Jessie ignored the order and carried out stoking the fire, nudging it with the poker until the flames began to roar and the embers crackled. Diana sat further back in the chair as an awkward silence descended on the room, with nothing but the scraping of the poker and the fire popping and sizzling.
Diana bit her lip, wondering if she could request Jessie to leave the room again, but too nervous of how such a request could be heard, she decided against it and hung her head.
When Jessie eventually stood, carrying her brass bucket, Diana exhaled, the sigh leaving her with such vigour that it had to be heard by the maid. Yet the door didn’t open. Instead, the bucket was placed down on the floor another time, striking against the door as it did so, making Diana turn round in the chair to find the maid standing by the closed door, staring at her.
“Jessie … have you not finished with the fire?” Diana asked, her hands now fidgeting with the lining of the chair.
“I must speak to you.” Jessie’s voice was deathly quiet.
