Page 21 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)

Chapter Twenty-One

D iana nearly dropped the stack of letters when she spotted Gilbert standing at the far end of the corridor.

She had woken early to attend to correspondence and finalize some small household matters, never expecting to find him at home in the middle of the day. She stood still for a moment, her heart racing as she watched him, so tall and composed, glancing over a ledger with an air of unhurried calm.

She gathered herself with a steadying breath. He rarely waited for her like this, and was usually out handling estate matters or caught up in the demands of his position.

“Good morning,” she managed, stepping closer, waiting in anticipation to hear if anything was amiss.

Gilbert’s head rose, and a tender light entered his gaze. “Good morning,” he replied. “I was not sure where you had gone.”

“I was in the library, answering the day’s letters,” she explained. “But you… you are home earlier than usual. Is everything all right?”

He closed the ledger with a neat snap.

“Exceedingly, actually.” A slight, teasing smile tugged at his lips. “I realized I had some unfinished business, a certain debt I owe.”

“A debt?” she asked, her eyebrows rising, confusion sparking in her eyes.

“To my savior, as it were,” he teased, stepping closer, a mischievous look on his face.

“Savior?” she repeated, a faint blush creeping to her cheeks as she recalled the events with Josephine. “I only intervened?—”

“Exactly,” he cut in smoothly. “And for that, I feel indebted. I thought I might repay your kindness in some small way… perhaps a morning promenade in the park?”

She blinked, glancing at the letters in her arms before looking back up to him, confused by his offer. It was so unlike the usual routine they had fallen into that she was momentarily at a loss for words.

Unless you have other pressing matters?” he asked as his half-smile deepened.

“No… no, not at all,” she said quickly, setting the letters on a small table. “I would be glad for the fresh air.”

“Excellent,” he replied. “I have a carriage waiting.”

His uncharacteristic spontaneity sent a flurry of anticipation through her. Steadying herself, she folded her hands lightly at her waist.

“Then allow me to fetch my bonnet and gloves,” she said, trying not to sound too eager.

Gilbert stepped aside to let her pass, and she could feel the warmth of his regard even without meeting his eyes. An understated hum of excitement vibrated beneath her composure. The fact that he wanted to spend time with her during the day made her heart shine with pleasure.

She darted toward her room, summoning Ruth to assist with her outdoor attire. In the mirror’s reflection, she caught the fleeting pink in her cheeks and the pleased smile that hovered on her lips, and realized that she was undeniably glad to have him home, even more than she cared to admit.

When she returned to the corridor, bonnet ribbons secured and gloves in hand, Gilbert was already waiting by the door. He offered his arm with a courteous flourish. “Shall we, Your Grace?”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” she teased back, slipping her hand through his arm.

Together, they stepped out into the bright morning light, leaving behind the letters, the ledgers, and the constraints of their usual routines—however fleetingly—to enjoy a simple promenade in one another’s company.

Sunshine spilled across the cobblestones as Diana and Gilbert strolled arm in arm. At first they simply wandered the winding paths of Hyde Park, framed by tall elms and manicured lawns. The breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and flowers, a playful reminder that spring was in full bloom. Families picnicked in scattered clusters and children darted about, their shrill laughter punctuating the air.

Diana noticed how Gilbert slowed his usual brisk stride to match her pace. He inquired more than once whether she was comfortable, and if she was enjoying herself. She found his attentiveness endearing, and each small gesture of care increased the warmth that was building in her. They spoke of small things at first—household matters, and minor estate updates—but the weightier concerns of titles and rumors did not intrude on their bright morning. For once, they seemed no more than an ordinary couple enjoying a sunny day together.

When noon approached, Gilbert guided Diana away from the bustle of the park, heading for one of the more noted coffee houses situated along a fashionable thoroughfare. Even from a distance, Diana could see the well-appointed interior: tall chairs and small tables, discreetly placed to allow patrons their privacy.

They paused at the entrance, beneath a discreet sign bearing the coffee house’s name. Though the establishment welcomed members of the aristocracy and gentry alike, it remained rather exclusive.

Footmen out front immediately recognized the Duke of Rivenhall and bowed reverently, holding the door to allow them to enter. Gilbert bobbed his head in acknowledgment and Diana followed him in, recalling the times she had heard other ladies praise the venue as an ideal place to be seen without being on display.

Inside, a hush fell among the patrons—gentlemen in fine coats, and a few ladies in smart day gowns—just long enough to signal that an important couple had arrived. Conversation then resumed at a quieter pitch. An aroma of roasted coffee beans blended enticingly with the sweet smell of pastries, a testament to the coffee house’s reputation for excellent refreshments.

Gilbert offered Diana his arm, and the head steward approached swiftly, bowing deeply.

“Your Graces,” he murmured in measured tones. “What a pleasure to welcome you today. Shall I show you to a private corner?”

Gilbert gave a curt nod, following the steward to a secluded table by a tall window. From there, they could glance out at the passing carriages beyond while still enjoying a sense of exclusivity. The steward discreetly withdrew, promising to return once they were comfortably seated.

Diana sat gracefully, smoothing her skirts as she took in the refined décor. The lofty ceiling, the row of mirrors reflecting warm lamplight, and the quiet elegance of the clientele reminded her that this was a favored spot for those who preferred to conduct themselves with dignity and a measure of formality, rather than in boisterous gatherings.

Gilbert took his seat across from her, meeting her gaze with a subtle curve of his lips.

“I trust this is to your liking?” he inquired.

“Indeed. It is… very smart,” she replied, allowing a small smile to confirm that she found it pleasing. The hush around them seemed less suffocating than some grand banquets; here, people noticed them but did not gape. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Gilbert.”

He simply answered by taking up the menu the steward had left. In a more modest establishment, staff might have fawned anxiously, but there the coffee house employees were well-accustomed to members of the nobility. The same steward returned in short order, offering a brief bow before taking their orders.

Gilbert requested his coffee in the continental style he favored—dark and strong—while Diana politely asked after their tea selection, finally choosing a fragrant blend recommended by the steward. The steward also offered a small plate of pastry slices, which Diana accepted with graceful interest.

Once the steward withdrew, Gilbert leaned in slightly, the quiet hum of other patrons granting them a momentary bubble of privacy.

“I suspect this place is discreet enough,” he said mildly.

Diana nodded, casting a brief glance at a gentleman reading a newspaper near the far wall, and another quietly distinguished couple sipping coffee.

“They seem politely indifferent,” she remarked with a light shrug.

Gilbert’s mouth twitched in what might pass for a smile. “Precisely why I chose it.”

When their refreshments arrived, the steward served Diana’s tea in a delicate porcelain cup, alongside a small silver dish of sugar lumps. Gilbert’s coffee came steaming hot in a tall pot, its aroma robust enough to make Diana’s mouth water slightly, even though she was not ordinarily partial to coffee. On a plate between them lay neat slices of currant cake. The steward bowed once more and withdrew.

Diana lifted her cup, savoring the subtle fragrance.

“This is delightful,” she murmured, sampling a spoonful of tea that was indeed well-brewed, its flavor smooth and comforting. Glancing at the pastry, she helped herself to a slice, breaking off a morsel to enjoy with her tea.

Gilbert, meanwhile, took a hearty sip of his coffee, exhaling with approval.

“One can trust these places to serve something respectable,” he observed. “Though I will say the relaxed hush here is a welcome change from the usual clamor of crowded assemblies.”

“True. I am glad for the chance to have a quieter moment together,” She gave a soft laugh, recalling grand balls where the throng and noise could quickly become overwhelming.

From time to time the sound of carriage wheels drifted into the coffee house and joined the light clink of silverware from adjacent tables. Diana watched as two gentlemen debated the merits of a recent parliamentary proposal, their voices hushed but intense.

Nearby, another lady of obvious rank perused a fashion journal, occasionally glancing up at Diana with polite curiosity. Yet no one disturbed them. They were ensconced in a sophisticated, respectful realm where titled patrons were a common sight.

Their conversation roamed through easy topics: a letter Diana had received from Alison, who was considering a visit to London, and Gilbert’s steward’s updates on estate matters that needed his signature.

It was not the weighty gossip or scandal that usually enveloped them in society, but comfortable, everyday talk shared by two people with growing ease in each other’s company. When Gilbert occasionally met her eyes, Diana felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the steaming tea before her.

At length, Diana ventured a playful comment. “I do say, I did not expect we would be seated together in such an establishment, like any other couple enjoying coffee and conversation.”

Gilbert set his cup down, regarding her thoughtfully.

“Nor did I. But I confess,” he added, “I have come to relish these smaller freedoms. Not every moment must be a spectacle.”

She lowered her gaze and took another sip of tea to cover the pleasant stir of emotion that his admission had caused.

Eventually, after a last shared bite of currant cake, Gilbert signaled the steward. Though the staff offered to bring the bill to his seat, Gilbert simply handed over a folded note of payment without fuss, his readiness to conclude their quiet interlude matched by Diana’s contentment.

As Diana rose, her gloves and reticule in hand, she noticed a young staff member near the door trying not to gawp. For all that prestigious coffee houses in London were accustomed to titled patrons, a duke and duchess still stirred some excitement. Diana found it strangely endearing. She spared the staff member a mild, gracious nod, and the lad managed a quick half-bow before darting away.

Gilbert guided Diana through the doorway, and out into the bright afternoon. A mild breeze ruffled the edges of her bonnet. They stood for a moment on the broad pavement, letting the city’s energy flow around them.

A handful of passersby glanced their way but continued on. In that part of London, titled couples were neither unseen nor entirely mundane, but at least no one stopped to stare outright.

“Well,” Diana said, turning her face up to meet Gilbert’s gaze, “I daresay that was…rather pleasant.”

He lifted his brows. “I should hope so.” His voice carried a muted amusement, as if relieved that the outing had indeed suited her. “Shall we see what else occupies the fashionable streets this afternoon?”

“Yes,” she agreed, letting her smile deepen. She slipped her arm through his, stepping nearer in a gesture that felt at once proper and intimate. “I am curious to see where else you might choose to whisk me off without ceremony.”

Gilbert only answered with a slight quirk of his lips, guiding her onward into the throng of well-dressed pedestrians and elegant carriages, merging with the London crowds while maintaining the dignity befitting their rank.

And, as they strolled away from the coffee house, Diana carried a gentle gladness in her chest; an awareness that not every shared moment required pomp and grandeur for two hearts to find quiet contentment in each other’s company.

They ambled from shop to shop, browsing everything from millinery creations to rare books. A tiny glass figurine displayed in a window caught Diana’s eye.

She paused momentarily, admiring how the sunlight reflected off its delicate edges. The piece depicted a swan with wings partially spread, an elegant and fragile work of art. She hardly planned to purchase it—merely found it charming. But Gilbert, noticing her lingering gaze, promptly signaled his intent to buy it.

Flustered, Diana tried to protest. “There’s no need?—”

He shook his head with a smile. “You gave it more than three seconds’ worth of admiration. That is reason enough.”

Her cheeks heated with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. She allowed him to escort her inside, where the shopkeeper, already bowing in excitement, wrapped the figurine in tissue. Such thoughtfulness from Gilbert made her chest constrict with emotion.

And so it continued: a brief pause before a display of cameo brooches led to him selecting one with a delicate carved rose, pressing it into her hands before she could argue. A lingering look at a new set of embroidered gloves ended in a neat package nestled in his arms, ready to be added to the growing bundle of purchases.

Each time Diana tried to protest, he simply said, with a teasing tilt of his brow, “more than three seconds, my dear.”

The afternoon melted into a tapestry of laughter and conversation, their easy back-and-forth punctuated by the rustle of paper parcels and the cheerful chime of shop doors.

Diana could scarcely remember when she last felt so lighthearted. Any onlookers might have recognized them as a duke and duchess, but for once, the demands of rank seemed almost irrelevant.

At their final stop—a small bookstore tucked away under a gilded sign—Diana brushed a hand over a new novel’s cover. She did not even have time to feign disinterest. Gilbert raised a questioning brow in her direction, and all she could do was laugh and roll her eyes. The proprietor quickly fetched a copy, and Gilbert completed the purchase, placing the brown-papered parcel in Diana’s hands.

When they left, their arms full of packages, Diana glanced up to see the sun shifting toward late afternoon. She realized with a jolt of surprise that hours had passed without her noticing. Satisfaction bubbled in her chest at the insight; she could spend an entire day in Gilbert’s company without strain.

She felt an unexpected lump in her throat. A swell of emotion rose in her breast, something akin to love. Though she would not dare voice it, the flutter in her stomach each time he looked at her spoke volumes.

I am astonished by the sense of comfort that surrounds me each time his hand covers mine… the delight that I feel with his every teasing remark…

Gilbert caught her eye and a hint of curiosity crossed his features.

“You look pensive,” he remarked, guiding her through the crowd with a subtle shift of his arm.

Diana gave him a small smile, inwardly marveling at how effortlessly he managed the protective gesture.

“I am merely grateful,” she said softly, “for this day.”

He gave her hand a light squeeze, a silent acknowledgment of words left unspoken. They found their carriage waiting at the end of the lane. The footman hurried to assist, and Gilbert handed Diana up, carefully placing their parcels on the seat.

Settling beside him, Diana felt the gentle jolt of the carriage as it pulled away. Fatigue washed over her, though it was a pleasant weariness from so many happy hours. She cast a sidelong glance at Gilbert, observing his contented smile. Suddenly bashful, she turned to stare out the window, her heart fluttering like the wings of a caged bird as an epiphany struck her.

I am falling in love with him .

The notion filled her with both tenderness and fear—fear of laying her heart so open, yet too enthralled by him to deny it. For the time being she resolved to treasure the moment. They had shared a day free of constraints and obligations, and if tomorrow demanded their return to duty, she would at least have the memory of Gilbert’s unwavering presence, his teasing humor, and the cozy sense of closeness blossoming between them.

As the carriage rattled toward Rivenhall House, Diana closed her gloved hand around the small cameo brooch in her reticule, cherishing the unfamiliar sense of optimism that thrummed in her chest. Even if she dared not speak it aloud, she allowed herself the sweet indulgence of hope.