“About your work?” Diana asked, turning away and trying to avoid looking at the maid’s eyes.
“Pff. Not about my work, no.” Jessie walked forward, her small flat shoes striking the rugs beneath her feet with soft thuds as she rounded the chair to stand in front of Diana.
At once, Diana attempted to stand, but finding Jessie blocking her path and clearly having no intention to move away, Diana sat down again. She knew she should feel free to order the maid aside, but it was not something that came naturally to her. She could not do it.
“What is it you wish to speak of then?” Diana asked, keeping her gaze on her hands. “Any troubles you have with your work should be addressed to the housekeeper or to Mr Arnold.”
“Mr Arnold? Well, yes, I wish to discuss a matter that concerns Mr Arnold, but again, it does not concern my work.Your Grace.” The words were spoken with such derision that Diana looked up, finding Jessie’s gaze with her own.
“Then speak up, Jessie,” Diana said quietly, finding some courage from somewhere.
“I know about you,” Jessie said, stepping forward and pointing a hand at Diana.
“Know about what?” she asked, feeling her heart leap into her mouth that it was possible Jessie had connected her with Owen.
“If you wish to play at being foolish, very well, Your Grace. I can play that too.” Jessie walked away from her, at last giving Diana the space she needed to stand and cross the room. She reached for the windowsill, half using it to balance her weight, half debating escaping this conversation by fleeing out of the window.
When she heard Jessie adjust her bucket, she looked back to find Jessie pulling a long scroll of paper out of the bucket. “Would you like to see what I have found?” Jessie asked with a wicked smile on her cheeks. Tauntingly slowly, she unfurled the paper, unrolling it until what was on the surface was completely revealed.
“Oh, good God,” Diana murmured under her breath, so quietly that Jessie couldn’t hear it. The paper held the charcoal sketch that Owen had completed of Diana, complete with broken and torn wings. “Where did you find that?” Diana asked, knowing she had hidden it in a tiny box at the back of one of her bedchamber cupboards. It had been so well hidden beneath old books and boxes that there was only one way Jessie could have found it. She had been searching through Diana’s things.
“That is not the question on my mind.”
“It is the question on mine!” Diana’s harshness seemed to surprise Jessie just as it did Diana.
“You are usually so quiet, Your Grace. Is it possible the mouse knows how to bite?” Jessie asked, that bitter tone plain to hear. Diana turned away, running her hands through the loose locks of her hair that had fallen down before turning her eyes back to Jessie.
“You had no right to go looking for that.”
“I do not believe you have the right to continue an affair with your own butler,” Jessie said, walking forward and waving the sketch in the air like it was a baton. “This is proof, proof of what I know!”
“What do you know?” Diana asked, deciding it was best to attempt looking innocent.
“You are having an affair with Mr Arnold.”
“You think a sketch is proof of an affair. All you can judge here is Mr Arnold sketched me, and I happened upon the painting.”
“Then it was not you two walking through the woods together the other day, hmm?” Jessie asked with a curled lip. “It is not you Mr Arnold comes to see so often above stairs these days when the duke is out on business? I know your secret, though you can deny it as much as you like –”
“Jessie, this is beyond the pale of your responsibilities!” Diana tried to find a loud voice. Though it came out insistent, it was still too meek for her liking. “Pray, stop this at once.”
“Stop? No, Your Grace. I will not follow that order. I know what kind of woman you are. Why should I follow the orders of a duchess that would sink so low as to share herself with the butler?”
Diana let out a sound of despair as she turned away. On the one hand, she wanted to defend Owen, to reveal how awful it was to refer to Owen as nothing more than a butler, but to do so would be a confession.
“I will hear no more of this, Jessie.”
“You must because here is what I have come to say.” Jessie strode forward, gesturing with the sketch another time. “I know what you and Mr Arnold have been up to in your sordid affair, but it will not last. You can assure yourself of this. When the duke returns, I will tell him what his duchess does with his butler.”
Chapter 16
Diana stood gripping the windowsill behind her, unsure she had heard Jessie right at all.
“What did you say?”
No, it wasn’t possible; Gilbert could not find out. If he did, Owen would most certainly lose his position and be let go without references – he would never be able to secure such a position again. As for Diana’s future … that was an uncertain thing indeed.
“You heard me,” Jessie said, stepping forward. “When he gets back, I will tell the duke about the two of you. He deserves to know how unfaithful his wife is. How undeserving you are of him. He should deserve to be married to a woman that loves him!
