“How can you!?” Jessie said wildly, spinning back around with her nostrils flaring. “He’s a duke! He did it all for the sake of increasing his coffers. You said yourself that no magistrate would believe the word of any of these men over the duke.”
“They won’t,” Diana said in agreement, looking down at their connected hands. Owen brushed his thumb over the back of her hand, needing to touch her just that little bit more. “He has influence, that is clear. What magistrate would want to be the man to put a duke on trial for such a crime? If the duke were found innocent, he could later destroy the magistrate’s career and reputation. It is too great a risk for him to take.”
“So that’s it?” Jessie cried, whipping round so suddenly that she kicked the brass bucket over. She barely looked down at the mess she had made, with the tinder box and fire ash scattered across the floorboards. “He gets away with murder!”
“Jessie, be careful.” Owen retracted his hand from Diana’s and moved to his feet, crossing the room to clean up the mess.
“Be careful! How can I be? He killed him. He killed my friend, and I was …” Her breath hitched as she backed away across the room, hurrying for the door. As Owen cleaned up the mess, out of the corner of his eye he could see Diana cutting Jessie off before she could escape.
“Jessie, I know it’s awful, truly I do –”
“No, no one can understand this, Your Grace,” Jessie muttered between her tears, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I was sharing his bed. I was with him the night after the fire; meanwhile, my friend was fighting for his life. All because of him. I shared myself with a demon!”
Jessie ran out of the room. Diana clearly tried to stop her again, but it was no use. Jessie flung open the door, and it clattered against some of the library shelves before she disappeared. Her tears were heard for some time as they faded through the corridors.
“Diana.” Owen abandoned the bucket and moved to her side, seeing she was fighting her own tears. As gently as he could, he took her cheeks in his hands, drying the one tear that escaped with the pad of his thumb.
“Poor Jessie,” she said as she tried to blink away her tears. “She’s right. He is a demon, born of hell. Do you think he even knows that his fire killed a man? Do you think he even cares?”
“It is a question I’m frightened to know the answer to.” Owen wrapped his arms around Diana, pulling her into his body. Her warmth was comforting, but as her hands trembled, looping around the back of his neck, it made the fear begin to swell within him. If the duke were capable of killing a man, it begged the question of what he would do to the two of them if he ever discovered their affair.
“Owen,” she whispered in his ear. “Do you think we stand a chance? With what we are doing, I mean. Do you think we have any hope of proving him responsible for the fires?”
He wanted to tell her that they did, to kiss her and make all her worries fade, but it would be a lie to tell her as much.
“I don’t know, Diana. I just don’t know.”
Her breath hitched again with more tears. He angled his head down to her, kissing her with a kind of desperation. He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t lose what they shared, but as they kissed, those kisses were wet, mingled with her tears.
Chapter 25
Diana trailed her fingers through Owen’s as they laid in the bed beside one another. His chest was bare, just about visible in the moonlight that streamed through the gap in the curtains.
“Do the staff know, do you think?” she whispered, breaking the silence between them. After what had happened in the library with Jessie, Diana had begged him to spend the night with her, just to sleep, to be in each other’s company. He hadn’t hesitated in agreeing, but since they had arrived in her room, barely a word had been uttered between them.
“About what?” he asked, turning his eyes from the window to her.
“About us,” she said softly. He smiled a little, playing with their joined hands as he leaned further down on the bed.
“Tommie knows, Jessie knows, and with how loud Jessie has been in her tears lately, the rest of the staff must surely know something is afoot.” He sighed and rested his head back. “No one has said anything to me, though.”
“Do you think anyone would tell Gilbert?” she asked nervously, chewing the side of her mouth. She had this fear burning within her now, scared to think just what Gilbert would do if he discovered her affair with Owen.
“Let us hope everyone hates him as much as we do.” Owen returned his gaze to hers. “That’s not difficult to believe, is it?”
“Not remotely.”
They fell into silence again, looking at each other as their hands danced together. It was an intimate touch, one that was loving and devoted, without any heat or lust in it. Diana found she loved the moments like these with Owen as much as she adored making love to him. Both were special, connecting her to him, just in different ways.
“Can I paint you again?” he whispered to her.
“Paint me? It’s dark!” she said with a giggle. “I’m surprised you can see me at all.”
“The moonlight is strong tonight.” He quickly kissed her on the lips. It was supposed to be brief, though they both clearly grew distracted, making it last that little bit longer until Diana’s toes curled from the thrill.
When Owen retreated from her, he climbed off the bed and hurried to the window, pulling back the curtain further to reveal the full power of the moon. It turned out to be quite a bright night, with the white glow filtering through the glass. He turned away, delving inside his frock coat pockets to pull out the paints she had given him.
“How do you want to paint me?” she asked, laughing at the thought. He didn’t seem able to resist it, and the idea baffled her. How could he think her beautiful enough to paint?
