“Oh God,” Jessie said, turning her eyes to look downward at her feet. “That is three fires, isn’t it? Do we have an arsonist, do you think?”
“Most likely, isn’t it?” Tommie answered before Owen could. “Someone seems to have a task in mind, burning down all these houses.”
“It’s too awful,” Jessie said, shaking her head.
“Indeed it is,” Owen agreed. He kept his eyes on Jessie for a minute, seeing the pain in her face. It was plain the Jessie he had always known was there, somewhere; she was just being drowned out by this love she bore for the duke.
Owen turned his head to the side so he could whisper to Jessie without Tommie or anyone else in the kitchen hearing him.
“Do you still have that address?” he asked.
“No. I burnt it.” Her words made him curse under his breath. He had not committed the address to memory, and though he could remember some of it, it was certainly not enough to find it again.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I will not believe it, Mr Arnold. I refuse to believe it.”
“What do you believe instead?” Owen asked, losing his temper and hearing his words hissing with that anger. “Hmm? Do you believe the duke is in love with you?”
“I know it to be true,” she said quietly but insistently, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation.
“Yes, but has he ever told you he loves you?” Owen asked, his voice so strong that Jessie practically flinched at the sounds.
She couldn’t answer him. She stared back at him, blinking a lot as if warding off tears.
“Has he? Has he ever told you as much?” Owen asked, feeling Tommie elbow him to make him quieten his voice even more.
“I know how he feels. He doesn’t have to tell me.” Jessie’s voice hitched with restrained tears.
“Yes, he does, Jessie. Get him to tell you. See then what he has prepared to say of how he feels. Any man that won’t tell you he loves you certainly doesn’t love you.” He walked away from Jessie, heading back across the kitchen with the intention of returning to his office for a few minutes of peace. As soon as he could, he would make an excuse to go back upstairs and see Diana, but he couldn’t now.
In the office, he sat down in the chair, covering his face with his hands.
“I cannot believe she burned the address.”
Chapter 20
“He’s here.” Diana heard the sound of the carriage before she saw it. She scrambled to the window, peering out at the evening sun to see the carriage moving along the driveway. Either side of the pebbled drive, the grass was thawing, and there was barely any sign of frost at all.
The earth was beginning to look greener, with shoots of new plants shining through, signifying March was on its way and the coldness of February would soon be far behind them. There were tiny white bell flowers among the shoots, the snowdrops peering out in the dying evening light.
The carriage stopped outside the front door, and the duke waited inside until his footman had hurried forward to open the door before deigning to descend himself. From her vantage point, Diana could see someone walking out the front door to greet Gilbert. It was Owen, bowing as he reached the bottom step before the duke came to meet him. They exchanged a few words, perhaps formalities.
From inside the sitting room, Diana couldn’t hear what was said, but she clearly saw Gilbert laughing at something, then walking around Owen and into the house, unable to see the look of anger on Owen’s face that followed him. He didn’t follow Gilbert right away; he appeared to mutter something under his breath before climbing the steps leading to the front door.
Diana moved away from the window, standing in the middle of the room to wait for her husband’s entry. When he stepped in, he froze, his eyes going to her as if startled to find her there.
“Gilbert, you’re home,” she said, attempting to bring a smile to her face. “How was your journey?”
“Long,” he answered sharply, with just the one word, then flicked his fingers, prompting Owen to appear behind him in the doorway. “Port, if you would.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Owen nodded and shared a sly look with Diana before he hurried off into the adjoining room to fetch the port.
“How were things here? I trust you have not been falling over again and causing a nuisance of yourself.” Gilbert walked towards the fireplace, warming his hands by the fire and not even bothering to look at her as he spoke.
“No,” Diana said, taking her seat in a chair once again. She was aware of eyes on her, and she glanced to the side, seeing Owen through the open door as he poured the port, looking at her rather than at what he was doing. “There was some news though that may interest you. It was in the papers today.”
“Oh?” Gilbert made a noise, hardly sounding interested to hear her speaking at all.
