Page 23 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

“ G ilbert 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 the conservatory.” 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.

But a recent change of attitude had brought color to their daily interactions—a new tenderness, a sense that they shared something beyond duty or appearances. And, with that, came a surprising amount of contentment.

She turned as footsteps approached, expecting to see Ruth or perhaps one of the footmen bearing letters. Instead, Gilbert stood in the doorway, his gloved hands behind his back, and his expression poised yet faintly uncertain.

“Gilbert,” she greeted, letting surprise modify her tone. He so rarely sought her out during the late afternoon, typically attending to estate matters or other pressing business in town.

“Diana,” he said quietly, stepping into the drawing room. His gaze passed briefly over the chessboard set on a nearby table, and the neatly stacked volumes on the shelves, then returned to her.

“You were not in the library,” he added, as if that explained why he had come looking for her.

“I thought the drawing room better suited for admiring the garden. I feel the day too fair to spend entirely indoors. Please,” she gestured to a nearby chair, “will you not sit?”

He glanced at the proffered seat but remained standing, an energy about him that hinted he could not remain still.

“The rosebushes have never been quite so lush. I wonder what has changed?” Diana observed, breaking the silence. She peered outside, noticing how the breeze toyed with their petals, the late-afternoon light turning them a delicate shade of pink.

“We switched gardeners two months ago, and he swears by some new mixture of fertilizer,” Gilbert explained.

He walked over to where she stood and examined the garden.

“I only wondered if,” he began, then paused. A wave of self-consciousness suffused his features. “you might like to see them up close. Would you care to walk with me outdoors?”

“I would like that very much,” she said agreeably. Diana’s heart fluttered. Such a small, casual invitation, yet it felt significant coming from him.

He offered his arm, and though it was such a simple gesture, she found her throat tightening with a strange, new kind of anticipation. Rarely had he initiated a stroll in the gardens just for the pleasure of her company. She laid her fingertips on his arm, nodding as he led her out of the drawing room and down the corridor.

In the foyer, a footman hurried to open the great door leading outside. Warm air, tinged with the scent of grass and distant lavender, enveloped them. Diana’s slippers sank slightly into the gravel path as they moved beyond the threshold, Gilbert by her side.

She could not help stealing a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, admiring the distinct line of his jaw and the set of his wide shoulders. The recollection of their nights together raised a gentle flush on her cheeks. He had once been so reserved, but was now moving more deeply into her life.

They followed a winding, flower-lined path as the beauty of the garden stretched out around them.

Occasionally, he commented on a particular flowerbed or newly trimmed hedge that caught his eye. His remarks no longer contained the formal dryness she recalled from days past. Instead, he spoke with subdued enthusiasm, as though he wanted her to share in the simple wonders of the estate. The sun highlighted the chocolate hues in his dark hair and emphasized the affection in his eyes whenever he glanced her way.

“Here,” he said at length, guiding her off the main path. They reached a cluster of rosebushes heavily laden with fragrant pink blooms, their sweet scent drifting on the gentle breeze. Diana let her hand hover over a delicate petal, inhaling the floral perfume.

“These are lovely,” she breathed. “You said they only just began to bloom?”

“Our gardener noted them yesterday. I wanted you to see them while they are still fresh.” He nodded, then continued, “We will have to prune carefully after a week or so, or they will grow too wild.”

Diana smiled. “I do not mind a bit of wildness.”

“Our gardener said these roses nearly withered last autumn. I was sure we would lose them,” Gilbert said as he reached for a low-hanging blossom and gently brushed away a stray leaf.

“It seems all they needed was proper care.” She glanced up, her eyes bright. “Much like people, do you agree?”

“I have been reminded,” Gilbert said at last, “that with the right conditions, one can flourish unexpectedly. Even if one never thought to try.”

Their gazes met in a shared moment of amused understanding, perhaps recalling that the most cherished things in life often grow without rigid constraints. She turned back to the roses, feeling Gilbert’s comforting presence behind her.

Over the past few nights their nearness had grown in ways she had not anticipated. Laughter shared over some trivial remark after they had extinguished the lamps, or a murmured conversation about the day’s trifling events.

All of it stitched them closer together with threads of time and appreciation. And of course, Diana could not ignore the undeniable pull of physical attraction that caused her body to tingle whenever he entered a room. It had also been a surprise to find herself so at ease with him during the day, doing something as simple as walking together or admiring a flower.

Eventually, they made their way back to the house. Diana was reluctant for their comfortable interlude to end. But estate duties, household matters, and other trifles demanded their attention. They paused in the foyer while the staff unobtrusively went about their tasks.

“Thank you,” she said, releasing his arm but letting her hand linger a moment longer than necessary. “For showing me the roses.”

He inclined his head, something akin to softness in his gaze. “It was my pleasure, Diana.”

Then, with a slight bow, he excused himself, presumably to see to letters or accounts. Diana watched him depart, inwardly marveling at how that brief stroll had brightened her spirits. If someone had told her a month ago that she would find solace in his company—a man with whom she had once exchanged only formal pleasantries—she would have smiled politely and dismissed the idea. Yet here she was, living it.

Gilbert found Diana in the drawing room late in the afternoon, seated near the window with a book open on her lap. She glanced up as he approached, a slow smile forming on her lips.

“I did not expect you at this hour,” she teased softly, setting the book aside.

He removed his gloves and placed them on a nearby table, then turned to her. “I finished with my steward earlier than anticipated,” he said, his voice light. “I thought I might find you here. I trust that I am not intruding.”

“You cannot intrude in your own home, Gilbert. In fact, I am pleased you sought me out.” She shook her head with a small laugh.

He drew closer, settling into the chair across from her. In the quiet of the late day, the only sound was the distant clink of dinner preparations in the kitchens.

“I feel as though I spend more time in your company as of late,” he remarked in a tone that hovered between wonder and satisfaction. “And yet I find myself wanting more.”

A hint of color touched her cheeks. “Is that so unusual?” she asked gently.

Gilbert smiled at her open question. “Not unusual for others, perhaps,” he admitted, “but I did not imagine I would ever be… comfortable like this. I was convinced I would remain fixed in my old ways, yet here I am, telling you how content I have grown.”

Diana leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table.

“I am glad to hear it,” she said earnestly. “Truly, I am. I never wanted our life together to be purely formal.”

He studied her for a moment, noting how the evening light made her eyes glow.

“I thought I did,” he said quietly. “As such, I never considered anything else to be possible. That was my failing, not yours.”

Gilbert settled back, observing the way Diana’s bright smile lit her face. He had once dreaded marriage and all its inherent complications, but he now found himself strangely at ease in her presence, and eager for more of these unhurried moments. The realization startled him—he had never expected to find comfort, let alone joy, in domesticity. Yet every time she smiled at him like that, he felt an unfamiliar happiness spreading through him.

Before she could reply, the butler materialized at the threshold, bowing smoothly.

“Your Graces, dinner will be served shortly. Shall I escort you to the smaller dining room?”

Gilbert nodded, exchanging a quick look with Diana. She gathered her book and set it aside, then rose with an eager kind of anticipation. As they followed Timmons out, Gilbert caught Diana’s arm.

“You recall we wished for a simpler meal tonight. Let us hope the staff has not gone to undue trouble.”

She laughed under her breath. “Even when we request something modest, they seem determined to impress.”

He dipped his head in wry agreement as they entered the smaller dining room. A single table stood in its center, set with a white cloth and modest silverware. An unadorned vase of fresh daisies lent a cheerful note, and the staff had placed two chairs so closely together that Diana felt an undeniable air of intimacy.

Gilbert helped her to her seat, and when he took his own he found himself surprisingly eager for their casual meal. After the soup was served he tested a spoonful, then glanced at Diana.

“The stew last night was good, but this soup… perhaps they are taking pains to show they can do more with less,” he observed, delighted with its robust flavors and texture.

She sipped from her own bowl, her smile spreading.

“It is delicious, I must agree. Though I worry Mrs. Bradshaw will accuse us of spoiling the cooks for anything grander.”

They exchanged stories of the day—he mentioned a colt that had finally let the stable boy guide him without fuss; she told him about the flowers in the conservatory that might be used for a new arrangement in the drawing room. The conversation turned to small, amusing anecdotes about the staff. Gilbert brought up a footman’s attempt to repair a rickety cupboard, only for it to jam permanently.

“Perhaps I should burn the thing,” he joked, letting out a soft laugh at her mock-horrified face.

“That would cause an uproar,” she answered, giggling. “You might be forced to purchase new cupboards all around.”

Her laughter warmed him from within, and he took a moment to savor it, realizing how much he enjoyed the sound. They moved on to the main course—a simple roast chicken and vegetables—and Diana recounted a note from an acquaintance praising the new gardens. Gilbert listened with quiet contentment, thinking how natural it felt to share these trivial details with her.

By the time the dessert arrived, a delicate custard, he found himself reluctant for the evening to end. He set down his spoon, meeting Diana’s eyes.

“I must thank you for agreeing to this informal approach. I have discovered I much prefer smaller moments like this… just the two of us.”

Her cheeks pinked at his admission. “As do I,” she said softly. “It feels like a true respite.”

They might have lingered longer, but the butler reappeared, looking oddly unsettled. Gilbert inclined his head, allowing the man to speak.

“Your Grace,” he said, voice low with carefully masked alarm, “forgive the interruption, but His Lordship has arrived.”

Gilbert’s brows drew together.

“Which lordship?” he asked, his tone sharpening slightly.

“Lord Leopold,” came the reply. “He is in the front parlor.”

Diana’s heart gave a small lurch at the name. She recalled the fleeting references to Gilbert’s younger brother, and the tension in his face whenever Leopold was mentioned. Gilbert, for his part, allowed only a momentary flicker of surprise before his expression became calm and composed, his posture straightening.

“Very well,” he said quietly, “I will see him at once.”

He rose and Diana followed suit. She placed one hand on Gilbert’s arm before they stepped from the room.

“Whatever he requires,” she murmured, “we shall face it.”

Gilbert paused, smiling at her in silent gratitude, his gaze lingering on her with a gentleness that belied the concerns churning beneath. He led her from the dining room, the closeness they had discovered that evening carrying them forward, even though Leopold’s sudden arrival hung in the air like a looming thundercloud.