Page 24 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)
Chapter Twenty-Four
G ilbert stepped away from the table, leaving behind half-finished plates and the gentle glow of Diana’s presence. He had marveled at how peaceful it felt to dine with her alone, exchanging easy laughter instead of enduring hovering servants and polite small talk with guests. But that pleasant calm vanished the instant Timmons announced his brother’s unheralded arrival.
He paused in the doorway, glancing back at Diana, who was smoothing the skirt of her gown with anxious fingers. “Would you like me to join you?” she asked in a low voice.
Gilbert hesitated. A part of him ached to keep her near, but another part insisted it was best to first face Leopold alone.
“It may be best that I attend my brother on my own,” he said at last, adopting the careful tone he wore around unwelcome business matters. “I shall summon you once I… ascertain why he has come at this hour without warning.”
He caught the brief look of disappointment in her eyes before she lowered her head.
“Of course,” she murmured. “I shall remain close.”
He offered a short nod of thanks, then walked to where Leopold was waiting for him. The candlelit house felt charged with sudden apprehension. His thoughts ran rampant as he strode down the corridor. Why must Leopold appear now?
Hollings, the steward, was waiting for him in the foyer.
“Your Grace, Lord Leopold did mention he was in need of lodgings, his previous accommodations having been surrendered following his departure,” Hollings explained.
Gilbert scoffed. Though Diana had been the largest complication that Leopold had left in his wake, she was not the only one. Leopold had left a mess of unpaid bills and accounts that had taken weeks for Gilbert to sort out, including the rented rooms Leopold had insisted on keeping.
“See that a fire is lit in his chamber and have some refreshment sent for him,” Gilbert instructed Hollings with a sigh, then stepped into the parlor.
Leopold stood by the mantel, lamplight outlining his lean form as he removed his coat and gloves. The exhaustion etched into his face clashed with the half-roguish curve of his mouth; a sardonic tilt that had vexed Gilbert for as long as he could remember. Still, the lines around his eyes looked deeper now, suggesting a weightier issue than the usual mischief.
“Gilbert,” Leopold greeted in a half-drawling tone, letting his gloves drop onto a side table. “I apologize for the late hour. I might have penned a note, but—well, I had little time.”
“You might have tried,” Gilbert replied, forcing his voice into something resembling calm. “Why did you come?”
Gilbert found his impatience rising, even more annoyed to have his evening disrupted by Leopold now that he was face to face with him. He was barely interested in finding out what trouble Leopold currently needed rescuing from.
“Straight to the point, I see,” Leopold let out a short, humorless laugh. “You never were much for pleasantries.”
“I can be hospitable when the occasion warrants. But your unannounced arrival in the middle of my dinner—” Gilbert’s jaw tightened as an echo of old frustrations drummed at his temples.
“Brother,” Leopold said, his voice subdued, “I heard the talk spreading about you—nasty rumors, all swirling since your sudden marriage. I wanted to see for myself if you were all right.” He gave a short laugh that held little humor. “When have I ever troubled myself with your wellbeing? But here I am.”
Gilbert drew in a slow breath, bracing his hand on the back of a nearby chair.
“I am well enough,” he said, curtly. “Though I hardly expected you to come rushing home for my sake. What is this about, truly?”
“I did not rush to your side in the past, I know. But the rumors seemed vicious and varied, saying you had been coerced, that you regretted the whole affair, and that you had only wed to placate scandal.” He lifted his head, his brows knitted together. “You swore you would never wed, Gilbert. You have forsaken that vow.”
“You come at this hour to question me about a vow you never cared for before?” he asked sharply, annoyance running through him, then forced a steadier tone. “If you are worried that I shall produce heirs and cut you out of the line, rest assured you remain my heir. But it changes nothing for you in the present.”
“I care nothing for an inheritance,” Leopold told him, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “I came because I realized how much my mistakes have impacted you—my foolishness, that scandal with Lady Diana. I have carried guilt for how it forced your hand.” He exhaled, looking genuinely contrite. “If you turn me away, I shall understand. But I am trying to atone, in whatever way I can.”
Gilbert’s anger ebbed upon hearing Leopold’s confession. “And what changed your heart so suddenly? You fled to the continent after causing chaos, and now you reappear to apologize?”
Leopold spread his hands in a gesture of surrender, his shoulders tensed.
“The rumors I heard were particularly cruel towards you and Lady Diana. I realized if I had done my duty, if I had not left you to shoulder the scandal alone, none of this would have fallen on you. I owe you better.”
Gilbert studied Leopold’s worn features, recalling how carefree—how reckless—his brother used to be. Perhaps his remorse was genuine.
“Then you shall stay,” Gilbert said with a nod. “I will not turn you out. Diana would not wish it, either.”
A trace of relief flickered across Leopold’s face. “Thank you. It means more than you know.” He shifted uneasily. “Yet I must ask, are you truly well? I cannot tell if you have found contentment or if you have buried yourself in yet another obligation.”
Gilbert drew himself upright, tempering his response.
“I chose Diana freely. She was compromised by your actions. But more than that—” He hesitated, the faint memory of Diana’s gentle presence softening his tone. “She means more to me than mere duty, no matter the rumors. I am neither coerced nor regretful.”
Leopold’s shoulders relaxed. “Then I shall rest easier.”
Gilbert let the moment settle. It felt foreign to speak so openly with his brother, and the old tensions still lingered in the air.
“You shall have your old room returned to you,” he said quietly. “I have already asked Hollings to accommodate you.”
Leopold nodded, a flash of gratitude in his expression. “I appreciate it. Truly.”
Though the silence returned, it no longer crackled with sharp hostility. As Gilbert gestured for the footman waiting by the door, Leopold lifted his coat from the chair, his mouth twitching in that old, roguish way, but tempered by earnestness this time.
“If you need me,” Leopold said softly, “I shall be here, willing to help in any way I can.”
Gilbert answered with a brief nod, his mind already turning to Diana waiting for him upstairs and the precarious peace of his household. “We shall talk more in the morning.”
Leopold’s eyes flicked to the door, where a footman hovered.
“Yes. I appreciate that.” He hesitated, as though searching for words. “I never intended for her to be ruined, you know,” he said quietly. “I was… drunk, foolish. I fled because I could not see a solution. I wrongly assumed that you might find another way to dispel the scandal.”
“I indeed found a way,” Gilbert assured him cooly.
Leopold nodded, his lips pressed thin. “I see. I suppose I owe the lady an apology.”
“You owe her more than that,” Gilbert said curtly, then pulled himself together. “But for now, you owe it to both of us not to stir up new trouble.”
A footman edged forward, clearly waiting for an order to usher Leopold to his suite. Gilbert gave a curt nod, dismissing him with a glance. “Tomorrow, we talk. Tonight, you may refresh yourself. Good evening.”
Leopold bowed with a semblance of politeness. “Good evening, brother.” He turned, following the footman into the corridor.
Gilbert watched him go, tension throbbing at his temples. He wanted to believe that Leopold had returned a changed man, but his years of experience reminded him to keep his expectations low.
With a deep sigh, he exited the parlor. In the foyer, Hollings directed Leopold up the stairs, and from the corner of his vision, Gilbert caught sight of Diana hovering near the corridor wearing a worried expression.
Leopold nodded to Hollings and started toward the stairs, passing Diana with a half-nod, half-bow.
“Forgive my intrusion, Your Grace,” he murmured to her. She simply offered him a polite smile, then glanced at Gilbert.
When Leopold disappeared up the stairs, Diana stepped closer, her voice hushed.
“Are you all right?” Her eyes searched his face, and the compassion there nearly eroded his composure. How he wished they could return to their quiet meal, to the conversation that had hinted at so many other shared possibilities.
He forced a faint smile.
“I will be,” he said. “It is…an unexpected development, but nothing we cannot handle.”
He paused, noticing the worry still creasing her brow. “Thank you for respecting my wish to meet him alone. Tomorrow, if you like, you may join us. I am not hiding you from him, only from tonight’s conflict.”
Diana nodded. “I understand,” she said softly. “If there is anything I can do…”
Gilbert let out a long, gratitude-filled breath. “Thank you, Diana. We will speak later.”
She smiled, her eyes reflecting the same affection that had carried them through their days and nights. With a quick press of her hand, she turned towards her own quarters. Gilbert lingered a moment, watching her vanish into the corridor. Only after she was gone did he climb the stairs, exhaustion creeping in now that the shock of Leopold’s arrival had dulled.
Reaching the top floor, he paused outside Leopold’s assigned guest chamber. Inside, he heard the muffled sound of his brother’s voice, likely instructing a footman on where to place his trunk.
Gilbert sighed, feeling the wash of memories flood over him, the tumultuous years of living with Leopold after their father died, and of the messes he had been forced to clean up on his behalf. He had thought then that his life would always be that way. However, just a few doors down, Diana would now be waiting for him.
And as he turned away, heading for his own rooms, the thought of Diana reminded him of how fragile his newly won contentment might be if his brother stirred up old hurts or ignited new gossip. He closed his eyes briefly, willing the tension from his shoulders. Then, with a firm resolve, he moved down the corridor, every footstep echoing the vow he silently repeated.
I will not let him disrupt what I have found.