“It is no more than her husband is doing, is it?” Owen’s sharp words made Jessie’s face become sterner. Seeing he was getting nowhere, he changed tact. “Jessie, you and I were once friends. Could you truly so willingly cast me into the fire like this? You know I will lose my livelihood if you do this.”
There was a beat of silence between them as Jessie hung her head forward. The stern expression melted away and in its place was a look of shame.
“Mr Arnold, it was never my intention to hurt you,” she whispered.
“Then … why are you doing this?”
“For him.” She lifted her head, with her lip trembling.
“For the duke?” Owen asked in amazement. “You truly think he cares for you too?”
“I know he does,” Jessie said resolutely.
Owen parted his lips, ready to argue with her. He wanted to rant and rave, to speak of all the maids who had come before, to remind Jessie of the maids she had seen disappearing, even if she had never realized why in the past, yet he didn’t. He knew if he just argued with her, she wouldn’t believe him. He would need more tact in his argument.
“You are certain of it?” Owen asked carefully. “He is a duke, Jessie. He is not a man who only has one woman.”
“He would have chosen me if he could have done.” Jessie walked around Owen, her voice becoming shrill as she headed for the door. “I’m sorry, Mr Arnold. I never wanted you to end up hurt, but I have no choice. I must protect the duke from his wife. Once she is gone, then we can …” She trailed off with her hand on the door. Owen stepped forward, realizing what she couldn’t quite bring herself to say.
“Oh God, do you think he will marry you?” he asked, his voice quiet. “You think if he manages to end his marriage with the duchess, that he’ll marry you instead?”
“Yes!” Jessie said, whipping her head back around. “He as good as said he would.”
“But did he actually say those words?” he asked. “Did he tell you he would marry you?” He had to plant the seed of doubt somewhere. Jessie didn’t answer. She looked away instead, looking a little lost. He thought it had worked, briefly, but then she lifted her chin firmly another time and held Owen’s gaze. “Jessie, you are a maid. He is a duke. Do you think he’d cross that boundary to marry you?”
“I know how he feels, even if he cannot utter the words.” She walked out the door, hurrying away so fast that Owen had to practically run to keep up with her.
By the time he caught up with her, they had reached the servants’ stairwell and were hurrying down below. Owen took hold of Jessie’s bucket to get her attention, pulling her to a stop on the stairs.
“Jessie, please listen,” he said, glancing down the stairs in awareness of just how close they were to the other servants walking up and down. “At least give us time.”
“Time? What for?”
“Before you tell the duke.”
“If she leaves this house and doesn’t come back, then there will be no reason to tell the duke.”
“Wait … that’s what you want?” Owen had to hurry down the stairs to follow her, still clinging onto the bucket handle to keep it in place. “You want her to leave? Now?”
“If she leaves this very day, then I vow not to tell the duke. That is our deal, Mr Arnold.” She tried to walk away from him at the bottom of the stairs, but Owen pulled harshly on the bucket, holding her in place. He had to lower his voice even more with the servants now walking around them.
“If that’s what you want, then you’ll have to give us time.” Time was just what they needed, in order to persuade Jessie the duke was not deserving of her love. “Give us a few days, at least some time to arrange somewhere else for the duchess to go. Please, Jessie, you would not throw someone out on their ear with nowhere to go, surely?”
Something in his words must have connected with her, for the resolve in her manner instantly faded. She looked up and down the corridor for a minute at the other servants before she looked back to him and nodded.
“Yes, that sounds fair. Four days. Four days, and in that time, I promise not to tell the duke if he returns. On the fourth day, her grace needs to leave.”
“Thank you, Jessie.” Owen, at last, released the bucket to let her go. She held the bucket to her chest and looked down at the contents somewhat nervously. To Owen’s mind, she did not look pleased with herself, as though she were ashamed. “What is it, Jessie?”
“No,” she said, stepping away. “This is for the best.” She turned and hurried off down the corridor, aiming quickly for the kitchen.
As she went, Owen felt his hands ball into fists at his side. The anger was still there burning within his gut, but it had altered now. The sheer extent of Jessie’s devotion to the duke rankled him. Feeling his feet moving of their own accord, he followed her into the kitchen. He knew it would not be long before Jessie followed all the other maids, disappearing to goodness knows where because they ended up with his child.
When he entered the kitchen, he almost reached for Jessie, ready to argue vehemently with her that the duke was undeserving of her affection when Tommie stepped in his way, blocking off his access.
“Good Lord, you made me jump,” Owen said, jumping back with a hand to his chest.
“Listen quick before the housekeeper comes back.” Tommie took hold of Owen’s arm and towed him across the room, towards the main part of the kitchen where the worktop was alive with activity and fresh bread that Tommie had been kneading.
