She tossed down the letter, determined not to answer it any time soon as she reached for her second letter. Owen must have sensed her discomfort at the letter, for he moved to her side, making an appearance of pouring her tea, though, in truth, he used it to brush the inside of her wrist, eliciting a tingle that travelled all the way up her arm and lodged itself somewhere in her chest. She hid her giggle and lifted the second letter to her eyes, feeling herself gasp at the contents.
To the Duchess of Somerset, Her Grace, Diana Dowding,
Thank you for sending your book to our publishers. As the Editor in Chief of our company, I have to say, it is rare to read a story of such imagination as the one you sent through. I was hooked from the first page.
It is unusual to publish works by ladies; however, the last ten years have shown to us in this industry that perhaps it is the more unusual voices that can capture our true imaginations. I would be truly interested to see more of your work based on this first instalment.
In short, we would be delighted to discuss a publishing contract for your work. I will put together a contract and send the terms to you for review.
I will write again soon with more information.
Yours etcetera,
Mr Harrison Beaver.’
“Ow –” She broke off abruptly, nearly saying his name in excitement. She clamped her hand over her mouth, silencing her mouth as she looked up at him. He nearly sloshed the tea out of the teapot in surprise, evidently glancing at the footmen, nervous of discovery.
“Would you be able to check upon the eggs for Her Grace?” Owen asked smoothly, addressing the two footmen who were on the opposite side of the table.
“Yes, of course.” They bowed together and hurried out of the room.
The moment they were gone, Diana thrust the letter into the air, jumping to her feet and urging Owen to take it.
“Well, something has made you happy. Thank goodness for that,” he whispered to her. He glanced at the doorway, but clearly seeing they were alone, he bent down towards her, stealing a quick kiss.
It was not enough for her; she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, another time, elongating it for as long as possible. He chuckled as he pulled back from her.
“We’ll be caught.”
“Right now, I’m willing to take the risk. They won’t be back for a few minutes. We are safe.”
He laughed another time and pulled back from her, looking down at the letter in his hands. It took but a moment for him to read it before he dropped the letter and reached for her.
“They want to publish. Diana, this is wonderful!”
“I cannot believe it. You were right, Owen. One letter and this has come from it. I feel I shall burst with happiness!”
He laughed and embraced her again. There was a thud nearby of a door shutting.
“They’re coming back, quick.” Owen released her and pushed her down into the chair another time.
“Owen?”
“Shh, Diana,” he whispered, circling her and trying to straighten her place setting that had become somewhat messy in their hasty kisses.
“Come to me tonight?” she pleaded with him. He looked to the doorway one last time, checking no one was there. She held her breath as she waited for his answer. “Celebrate with me. Please?”
“Of course, I’ll be there,” he said softly in a whisper, brushing her wrist one last time before the footmen returned through the door, forcing them into silence.
***
“To celebrate,” Owen said, lifting the champagne glass to Diana’s. She giggled and toasted him, too, though she barely sipped her champagne before she placed her glass down on her bedside cabinet and took his too. “That was a quick celebration,” he said with a chuckle.
“I had another idea of how to celebrate.” Diana reached up towards him, finding her lips with his own. She had waited too long to experience this again, and with the darkness fallen long outside and the servants long retired for bed, they were completely alone, allowed to indulge in one another at last.
“I quite like this idea,” Owen said between kisses. “In fact, I like this idea very much. God, how I have longed to be with you here again.” He enveloped her in his arms, pulling her flush to his body, though it did not last long, for their hands were soon wandering, tearing at one another’s clothes.
Diana’s were gone first, with her gown thrown across the bottom of the bed, leaving her in her stays and chemise. They removed all of Owen’s clothes before they drifted down to the bed together. Diana could feel the passion in each of his touches, as desperate to be with her as she was him. Unlike the time before, there was no build-up, no slow nervous kisses. They simply pulled at one another, lining each other up perfectly so that her centre was lined with his.
