Page 10 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)

Chapter Ten

F ollowing their tryst, Diana returned to her chambers, her thoughts jumbled into a heady mix of hope and impatience. Gilbert’s tender kiss still burned on her lips, and though she had lain there for some time, her eyes fluttering open at every creak in the corridor, he had not reappeared.

She had drifted into an uneasy sleep, longing to feel the mattress shift under his weight, to sense the warmth of his body next to hers, and fearing she would remain alone until dawn.

When she finally awoke the next morning, a single glance at the empty space beside her confirmed her suspicions: if Gilbert had visited her during the night, he had already gone.

A fresh wave of disappointment swept through her. There was now an air of loneliness in her chambers, one that contrasted painfully with the swirl of desire and comfort he had summoned within her.

Yanking the bellpull with more vehemence than intended, she called for her maid and dressed quickly, determined to find Gilbert, but her search for him was fruitless.

Servants, though polite, could only shrug or murmur that His Grace had departed early to see to estate matters. Every new sign of his absence heightened her mounting frustration, both marital and—she realized with a blush—physical.

As she returned to her chambers, she noticed her maid, Ruth, hovering nearby, concern evident in her eyes. Diana spoke to her with a quiet yet fervent tone. “Ruth,” she said, “I shall rise earlier tomorrow, well before daybreak, so the duke cannot escape my notice. See that I am roused and dressed in time to catch him.”

The simple act of making such a decision, refusing to let him slip away yet again, brought a measure of relief. Even if she had little idea how to narrow the gulf between them or what words could bridge the distance, she would not remain idle any longer.

Ruth arrived at the break of dawn the following morning, knocking gently upon Diana’s door.

“Come,” she called softly, already sitting upright in bed with a restless energy that coursed beneath her skin. She had slept fitfully, haunted by thoughts of last night’s longing and her husband’s maddening elusiveness.

“Your Grace, I have done as you asked,” Ruth told her with a curtsy. “The duke has not yet departed; he has only just risen himself.”

“Thank you, Ruth,” Diana said, her voice tense in the dim light. “Please, help me dress quickly. I must find him before he goes; he will not evade me again.”

Working deftly, Ruth helped Diana into a modest morning gown of soft gray muslin. The brush of fabric against her arms was a sharp reminder of her heightened awareness of her own body and Gilbert’s noticeable absence. By the time Ruth pinned the last strand of hair into a neat chignon, dawn’s pale gold had grown stronger, cutting bold shapes across the chamber floor.

Satisfied, Diana mustered a small, tight smile for Ruth’s benefit. “I shall ring if I need you further. Wish me fortune,” she added, her heart beating a brisk tattoo behind her ribs.

Ruth bobbed another curtsy, clearly sensing her mistress’s urgency. “Indeed, Your Grace. I hope this morning sees you meet with success.”

Diana nodded, steeling herself. She had begun this day determined; she would end it, if not triumphant, then at least not trembling with unanswered desires and questions. One way or another, she would confront Gilbert and find clarity regarding the complicated feelings he had left thrumming beneath her skin.

When Diana reached the great hall, a faint chill greeted her; the night’s coolness still clinging to the stone floors. She spied Gilbert near the entrance, handing instructions to one of the footmen. The sight of him—tall and distinguished in a dark riding coat—roused her yearning. Even from a distance, she could sense his self-possession, the quiet confidence that so often made him seem aloof.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard her approaching footsteps. Surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by courtesy. “Diana,” he said so coolly that she wondered if her arrival had roused anything in him at all. “You are awake rather early.”

She gathered her courage and approached, lifting her chin just enough to hide her anxiety.

“Good morning, Gilbert. I hoped I might persuade you to break your fast with me before you depart.”

He handed a folded missive to the footman, then turned to face her fully.

“I had not intended to linger, but…certainly, if you wish it,” he said, his expression amenable.

“I do,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I find myself in need of your counsel, and I would prefer not to wait until you return.”

His forehead creased slightly, but he nodded. “As you wish. Shall we go to the breakfast room, then?”

Diana nodded and led the way. A flurry of maids bustled discreetly along the hall, lighting the sconces for the morning. She noticed Gilbert glance at her sideways, but he did not speak. She wanted to break the silence and ask him why he had been avoiding her, why he had not approached her again after leaving so suddenly. However, she held back her questions, afraid to push him away or annoy him.

On their arrival into the breakfast room, a neat table awaited them, laden with fresh bread, jam, eggs, and a pot of steaming chocolate. A footman stood ready to serve. Diana summoned a small, polite smile, reminding herself to adopt a semblance of composure.

“Thank you, Thomas,” she said quietly. “We shall serve ourselves this morning.”

The footman bowed and exited, leaving them in relative privacy. The crackle of the fire and the soft clink of porcelain punctuated the hush as Diana poured chocolate into two delicate cups. Gilbert took his seat opposite her, regarding her with unwavering eyes.

She offered him a cup, and he accepted with a murmured thanks. For a few moments they sipped in silence. Diana was acutely aware of every detail: his hand curling around the porcelain, the crispness of his collar, and the faint lines around his eyes suggesting a lack of rest. She felt thankful for his patience, waiting for her to begin without pressing her.

At last, she set her cup down and gently cleared her throat.

“I am aware that you have many demands upon your time,” she began, “yet there is a matter we cannot allow to fester.”

“Fester seems an ominous word,” he remarked cautiously. His eyes searched her face, as though trying to measure her mood.

“There have been rumors,” she continued hesitantly, trying to decide how best to elaborate.

“You refer to the whispers about our marriage?” he guessed. “I did suppose that people would talk after the hasty affair.”

“Indeed. It appears that certain individuals still doubt the legitimacy of our union, or at the very least, question its…sincerity.,” Diana tilted her head, a mild tremor now entering her voice. “Moreover, your former association with the dowager countess has become fodder for vicious tongues.”

“I had hoped such talk would fade once it became clear you and I were lawfully wed. It seems I was mistaken,” he said. His fingers tightened around the handle of his cup, betraying his calm exterior.

“They believe, or so I have heard, that you harbor regrets. Some speculate that I have tricked you into marriage or that you have married me unwillingly,” she continued, her cheeks heating at the humiliating gossip.

“The dowager countess mentioned as much, hinting that society’s eyes remain fixed upon us, scrutinizing our every move. And while we are ostensibly still upon our honeymoon, your repeated absence from Rivenhall is causing rumors to run rampant.”

“I understand why this troubles you,” Gilbert’s mouth set into a grim line. “By rights, it ought never to have begun. However, I trust that the rumors will die down by the time we return to society.”

Diana exhaled, relieved that he did not dismiss her concerns outright.

“One may hope that is so,” she ventured. “However, I am concerned about my father and sister’s reputation. My sister is still hoping to make a match, if not this Season, then soon. I worry that if another year passes without her finding a suitor, her chances will only dwindle further. I would hate to continue to diminish my family’s standing.”

“You are a duchess now. Your standing should elevate theirs,” Gilbert protested, frowning.

“If I was deemed to be in good standing in my marriage, perhaps,” Diana argued, pushing away her plate. She leveled her gaze at Gilbert, hoping to convince him about her sincerity. “But these rumors diminish me as well.”

Gilbert raised his eyebrows, popping a berry into his mouth and chewing as he considered her words.

“You have duties; this I recognize,” she continued, hoping to influence how he was formulating his opinion. “But I suggest we address this together. Perhaps there is a way to set an example before the eyes of the ton, to show that our marriage is not to be questioned.”

He studied her quietly. She wondered if he thought back to the night of their shared kiss. His gaze seemed to linger upon her lips for a fraction of a second, and her heart fluttered at the memory. She yearned to feel that desire and passion again. But then he straightened, his expression once again neutral.

“What do you propose?”

She pressed her palms to the table, steeling herself.

“I propose we conclude this so-called ‘honeymoon’ in seclusion and instead make ourselves visible in society. We might host a small gathering at your townhouse in London, or accept the invitations we have ignored thus far. If the gossips see us together, conducting ourselves as a true couple, they shall find it harder to persist in their innuendo.”

“A public display of unity, then,” He sipped his chocolate, considering her suggestion. “Surely that will only stir more talk; people will say we are fleeing this estate, or that we are restless in one another’s company.”

“On the contrary, if we show a united front, they will see we are neither ashamed nor shrinking from scrutiny.” Diana leaned forward, her tone earnest. “Society delights in scandal only so long as it remains hidden. If we present ourselves confidently, the gossipmongers will have little to feed upon.”

His skepticism remained evident, though she noticed his resolve wavering slightly. Hoping to press her advantage, Diana continued, “And there is more at stake, is there not? You spoke of your brother’s concerns when first you left to answer his letter. His name, too, has been whispered among certain circles?—”

“My brother is perfectly capable of defending himself… yet I would not have his affairs further entwined with idle speculation about us.” Gilbert’s expression darkened.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her voice gaining confidence. “I know we did not choose this marriage for ourselves, and that we are still…learning about one another. But if you agree, I believe such a show of accord might quell the talk. At the very least, it would demonstrate we are not to be pitied or ridiculed.”

“I will not pretend I relish the idea of parading for society’s benefit, yet I see the wisdom in your suggestion.” Gilbert placed his cup in its saucer with a soft clink. “Very well. I shall speak with my secretary about returning to town, and we shall proceed accordingly.”

“Thank you,” she said simply. She felt a surge of gratitude. “I know it will not be a trivial undertaking, but it is something that must be done.”

He nodded once, then glanced at the clock upon the mantel. He placed his napkin on the table and stood.

“I must away, Diana, for I am expected at the stables. My steward requires my decision on certain matters regarding the estate’s fields. Would you do me the favor of consulting with Mrs. Hardwick on your plans for our reentry into town? She oversees much of the household arrangements and will be of use in ensuring a smooth departure.”

“I shall speak with her directly. Gilbert…,” she began, a small hesitation creeping into her voice. Diana rose, smoothing the folds of her skirt as he stood. “I appreciate you lending your ear.”

“Of course,” he replied quietly. His expression softened, and for an instant, she glimpsed the man who had kissed her so tenderly and ignited a fire within her. “We shall show them all that our marriage is not to be trifled with.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her features as she watched him gather his gloves and hat. Somehow, she was not yet ready for him to leave. Their conversation, while productive, felt incomplete. In a sudden burst of longing and uncertainty, she caught his sleeve before he could step away.

“Gilbert,” she said shyly, “must you depart so quickly? Might we…sit a moment longer? We have scarcely begun our breakfast.”

He looked down at her hand on his sleeve, his expression warming. “It is scarcely necessary for you to rise at such an hour. A duchess ought to keep more comfortable hours.”

“That is only possible if my husband does not vanish before daybreak,” Diana ventured, a slight flush creeping into her cheeks.

His mouth curved, as though torn between amusement and reluctance. “Diana,” he started, “I?—”

Before she could finish reading his gaze, he leaned in, placing his lips against hers in a firm, unexpected kiss. Her breath caught at the warm press of his mouth, the faint taste of chocolate still lingering on his lips. She returned the kiss without thinking, her heart thudding at the familiarity they had yet to fully explore.

An abrupt knock at the door made her jerk away, her cheeks burning. A footman entered, bowing deeply. “Your Grace, the carriage is prepared.”

Gilbert cleared his throat while stepping back quickly. “Thank you,” he said, adjusting his cuff. He turned to Diana with a guarded look in his eyes. “Forgive me, but I must not delay further.”

She nodded, still recovering from the suddenness of his kiss. He hesitated as though considering another word, an explanation, perhaps, then simply gave her a gentle nod and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Diana stared after him, her lips still tingling, a heady swirl of hope and lingering confusion consuming her thoughts. Only then did she realize that his kiss, tender though it had been, had served as a skillful means to avoid any further exchange.

A strange mixture of warmth and frustration welled in her chest. She told herself that their conversation would resume when he returned, but she could not shake the sense that he had once again slipped out of her grasp, leaving more questions than answers in his wake.