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“We are.” He stammered, shifting his gaze from hers to stare at the faint glow of the fireplace. “It is only… I have my reasons for wanting to avoid you being with child.” He turned his face back to her. “You deserve more than my fears.”

Diana’s confusion grew. She lifted herself on one elbow and peered down at him.

“Gilbert, I cannot pretend to understand fully,” she said carefully, “but you need not regret it so deeply. As I said, we are husband and wife, are we not? Unless there is something I fail to comprehend?”

He exhaled, the sound carrying a note of frustration or guilt.

“I did not wish—” He broke off, drawing a hand over his face. “I have always believed it best that I never sire an heir.” His voice nearly cracked at the admission.

Diana’s eyes searched his face.

“Is that truly so important? The chance of a child?” She braced for him to reveal tragedies or burdens of which she was unaware.

For several moments he said nothing. Then, as though forcing steadiness, he lifted a hand to her cheek, his thumb grazing her skin. “We shall speak more of this in the morning. I fear I have let impulses overrule my common sense.”

Diana offered a small, uncertain smile.

“I do not mind if your impulses overrule caution on occasion,” she teased gently, although she sensed the gravity in him. “You need not be so troubled.”

“It matters more than you realize,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. His eyes remained shadowed. “I am sorry.”

She let out a slow breath, pressing her free hand over the one he kept at her cheek.

“I only wish I understood,” she murmured, furrowing her brow. “But perhaps tomorrow will shed more light. Shall we rest now?” Diana drew him closer, longing to offer comfort she was uncertain how to give.

Gilbert nodded in agreement, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Yes,” he repeated quietly. “In the morning.” His hand tightened slightly on her waist, as though he both feared and craved her nearness.

Diana settled against his chest, perplexed by his anxiety but unwilling to allow it to overshadow the pleasant buzz that still coursed through her veins. If there were consequences, they would face them together, although she recognized that something far heavier weighed upon Gilbert’s mind than she could yet grasp.

They resettled themselves, with him drawing her closer in a protective curve, her back against his chest. She sensed the conflict simmering beneath his exhausted exterior, and her heart ached for him. She knew little of the fears that had shaped his aversion to intimacy’s potential outcome, but she sensed it was tied to old scars and losses.

In the hush of the bedchamber, sleep finally claimed them, though it came in fitful waves. Diana drifted between half-dreams of the afternoon’s carefree outing and fleeting visions of a child with Gilbert’s dark hair and her brown eyes.

Each time she stirred, she felt Gilbert’s arms around her, grounding her in the present. Their nearness made her ache with a longing that was both physical and profoundly emotional. She wanted more than passion; she needed trust, partnership, and love.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Gilbert is changing, do you not agree, Ruth?”

“I daresay you know him better than me, Your Grace,” The maid glanced up from organizing Diana’s embroidery basket.

Diana produced a half smile, drawing her fingers away from the window glass. “He seems… different these past days. More at ease.”

Ruth set down the embroidery basket with a contemplative frown.

“Forgive me for speaking freely,” she ventured, “but the duke seems… less inclined to his usual solitude. I have seen him walk these corridors more often than he used to.”

Diana nodded, pressing her lips together. “I have noticed. He even seeks me out at odd hours. Yesterday, he appeared at mid-morning simply to inquire after new blooms in theconservatory.” She gave a soft laugh. “He once avoided such domestic matters altogether.”

“If I may say so,” Ruth said gently, “it pleases the staff to see him so engaged. There is a lightness in him, if you understand my meaning.”

Diana’s cheeks warmed, and she glanced towards the window. “I hope… I hope it continues.”

Diana pressed a palm flat against the wavy glass of the drawing room window, lulled by the sounds of the late afternoon. Beyond the window, the gardens lay calm under pale sunlight, flowers bowing under the mild breeze. She could scarcely believe the changes the past days had brought; a tenuous bond growing between herself and Gilbert that felt more genuine with each passing moment.

Gilbert had initially informed her that he wanted theirs to be a marriage of convenience, and had avoided her at almost any cost. He had said he did not wish to sire an heir or marry. And yet, there he was, growing gentler and more present with every passing day. She let her fingers drift from the glass, feeling a swirl of warmth in her chest.

In the first weeks of their marriage, they had often treated each other like hostile strangers. She had grown used to solitary mornings, brief encounters at luncheon, and quiet nights that stretched out endlessly.