The maid clambered down from the cart and slowly walked forward.
“What about me?”
“A gentleman came by this afternoon. A young man, he wanted to see you. He said he was your cousin, Adam.”
“Adam?” Jessie asked, her manner growing more excited. “Is he still here?”
“No.” Diana kept one hand firmly in Owen’s, allowing him to cling onto her still while she stepped towards Jessie. “He came to give you a message. I said I’d pass it on to you. It was about the friend of your family. The one injured in the fire at Brokerwood.”
“Parker?” Jessie asked. “Is he well? Is he recovering?”
Diana paused, the silence stretching out between them as she slowly shook her head.
“No, do not say it. Please, do not tell me it.”
“I’m so sorry, Jessie.” Diana’s voice was but a murmur. “Your friend passed away in the night.”
Jessie’s reaction was instant. She backed away from the house, colliding with the wheels of the cart as a great cry wracked her body. Owen felt Diana release his hand as she went to embrace the maid. To his amazement, the maid fell into Diana’s arms, falling onto her shoulder and crying so loudly that the horse pulling the cart whinnied in objection to the sound.
Chapter 23
“You are a man with a plan in mind,” Tommie said, laughing humorously as he slapped the bread dough ball in his hands against the worktop between him and Owen. “What is your goal here? To have the duke arrested?”
“If it comes to it, yes.” Owen’s mind was filled briefly with the idea. The duke would pay his due for all he had done, the fires that had ousted the tenants from their homes, and for causing the death of Jessie’s friend. “He couldn’t harm anyone again then. No one would be put in Jessie’s position, the maids at that house, none of it would happen. As for Diana, she could be free of him.” He tipped his eyes to the ceiling, smiling at the thought.
“Things could work out perfectly in your favour, couldn’t they?”
“What do you mean?” Owen asked, flinching as he stopped filtering through the papers in his hands. He was marking down the deliveries of the next wine crates but quickly losing interest in his task.
“My friend, you cannot be so blind.” Tommie laughed. “Should the duke be arrested, your position will be safe, as will the duchess’, and you can continue your affair without fear of it being discovered –”
“Do not call it an affair,” Owen pleaded.
“What? Is that not what it is?”
Owen was tempted to argue; then his mind went back to what he had shared with Diana, making love to her with such passion that the two of them had been completely entwined together, with kisses pressed to intimate parts of each other’s bodies and loving words whispered together.
He could still remember the way that she had peaked, digging her fingers into his back at that moment. He longed to experience it again, but he had to choose his moment wisely to see her. The staff was still gossiping, noticing how much time he spent above stairs, especially when the duke was not around.
“Is it not an affair?” Tommie asked. Owen couldn’t deny it; after all, he and Diana were truly lovers.
“It’s more than that,” he said eventually, to which Tommie nodded.
“That I can tell. Every time she is mentioned, you light up.”
“I do not.”
“You do,” Tommie said, pointing at Owen’s expression. “My friend, take it from me. People in our position in life do not have many choices. Let’s face it, ladies in our duchess’ position cannot make many choices either. Take what you can get.
Say you make success with your enquiries, say for one wild minute that you manage to find enough evidence to see the duke convicted. Maybe even put in prison. You will have a life with the duchess. It may be one that has to be lived behind closed doors, but at least it’s a life that is together still.”
“It’s not what I want.” Owen was aware his words had made Tommie pause with his work, leaving the bread dough flattened on the counter as he looked up to him.
“You do realize how many men would desire a situation like that? Under the same roof as a woman they were so besotted with? It’s a great thing indeed.”
“It’s not the way I want it,” Owen confessed, turning and reaching for the nearest wooden stool, slumping down into the seat, and leaning on the worktop.
“What is the way you want it then?” Tommie asked, lifting his floured hands and folding them across his chest.
