“Your Grace, please –” Owen tried to placate him, but the duke spun back towards him, lifting a hand in the air.
“You …” A myriad of curses fell from the duke’s lips as he tried to land a blow on Owen’s face. Owen was too quick though and dodged away, almost falling back in a chair in his attempt to avoid being hit. “You had your hands on my wife. A butler dares to touch a duchess!”
“Leave him be,” Diana called. The duke snapped his gaze away from Owen, turning on Diana instead. He seemed uncertain who to be angry at first.
“Little wife, not so meek and mild after all, hmm?” the duke sneered at her and rounded the settee, advancing towards her. She ran the other way, just as Owen stepped forward, reaching for her. She ran straight to him, falling into his arms as Owen held her, determined to shield her from the duke’s wrath.
The duke stopped a short distance away from the two of them, staring as if they were a pile of manure dropped on the rug in his sitting room. Owen held the man’s gaze, refusing to be cowed by him.
“Mr Arnold, you will release my wife now and explain.”
“What is there to explain?” Owen said, holding tightly to her as she hid in his chest.
“Did you share her bed!?” the duke demanded to know, throwing an arm down like a petulant child as his cheeks burned bright red.
Owen didn’t answer. What could he say to that? Even if he denied it, he highly doubted the duke would believe him. The duke backed up as more swear words fell from his lips.
“My wife has whored herself to my butler. Jezebel,” he spat with the words, turning around in a frantic circle.
“Do not call her that.” Owen found strength in his voice as he matched the duke’s stare.
“I thought you were a loyal man, Mr Arnold. A good man, yet you would do this. You would take my wife from me?”
“I didn’t take her from you. I love her.” Owen wasn’t afraid to make the declaration. What would be the point in hiding it now? He hadn’t been expecting the duke’s odd response. The man laughed and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling in wonder.
“Oh, this is unbelievable. My wife has a lover, does she? A true one? Hard to fathom when you think of how like a mouse she has always been.” He shook his head and looked to Owen another time. “Mr Arnold, right now, I am tempted to hurt you in any way I can think of. Had it not been for your loyalty all these years, believe me, you would already be out of this house, thrown across my front porch, bleeding badly.”
Owen felt Diana gasp within his arms.
“As it is, I am giving you a chance here. Release my wife. Let her come back to me.”
Diana clung onto Owen’s arms.
“She does not want to go, Your Grace.” Owen didn’t know why he bothered with the polite address. Perhaps out of habit.
“Send her back to me now, or I will not be held accountable for my actions!” The threat was clearly a sincere one as the duke raised an arm, beckoning her forward. Owen felt the temptation to rant and rave himself, especially when he could see the bloodthirsty way in which the duke was staring at Diana. The wish to strike the duke just as he had attempted to do to Owen was strong indeed.
“I will never make her do something she does not wish to,” Owen said in defiance, holding the duke’s gaze.
He snapped. The duke launched himself forward. Owen tried to push Diana behind him, but he was too late. The duke took hold of the back of Diana’s dress and jerked her away. In danger of falling over, she had no choice but to go with him.
“No, Gilbert. No – release me!” she begged, still reaching out towards Owen, with her eyes wet, holding back tears.
Owen stepped forward, about to tear her back from the duke’s grasp, but the duke held up a warning hand, showing he was prepared to try and strike Owen another time.
“She is my wife; you have no right to her. A court will see it exactly the same way if I take you to court for assault. Now, step back!” he ordered.
“Assault?” Owen repeated, stepping back in alarm. “I never assaulted anyone!”
“I could accuse you of assaulting my wife, couldn’t I?”
“No. He never. What kind of a demon are you?” Diana cried in outrage. She tried to break free of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let her. He took hold of her wrist and dragged her out of the sitting room. She practically screeched, showing just what kind of pain she was in.
“Do not hurt her,” Owen shouted after the two of them, following them into the entrance hall.
“To think I might have to raise a bastard child. The mere thought.” The duke was in a world of his own, not responding to them, just cursing again and again. He dragged Diana into the centre of the entrance hall, with her pleading the entire time for him to release the vice-like grip he had on her wrist.
“Release her. Now!” Owen demanded. At that moment, he didn’t care that he was shouting at his employer, or a man that was a duke, so far above him in society that Owen could be squished like an ant beneath his shoes. All he cared about was the way Diana was within the duke’s grasp, her wrist being bent back so dangerously that it was surely close to breaking.
