Page 25 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

G ilbert sat behind his desk, the lamplight throwing shadows across the shelves and the single breakfast tray that lay untouched on a side table. The morning had been taut with anticipation since Leopold’s sudden return the night before, and now, beyond the door, he could hear his uneven footsteps approaching. No more putting it off. When a faint knock sounded, he squared his shoulders.

“Come in,” he said quietly.

Leopold entered, his demeanor anxious. He looked older than the careless youth who had once roamed Rivenhall’s corridors, though his roguish persona remained, albeit subdued. Gilbert observed that Leopold’s slight limp was more pronounced than he remembered.

“I was abroad when the vile rumors reached me; twisted stories that you regret your marriage, and that you only wed because of some dire mishap with Diana, although we know that part to be true. However, some even claim you despise her and never plan to consummate the marriage. It sounded worse than typical society gossip.” He paused, meeting Gilbert’s gaze. “I returned to see if you were truly all right.”

Gilbert tensed his jaw. “So you have said. And you thought my life so precarious that you had to come running?”

A faint, humorless smile tugged at Leopold’s lips. “I know it sounds absurd. Typically, I never worried about your affairs. But what I heard was… ugly. Talk of your hand being forced by blackmail or burdened by shame. I had to see the truth for myself—whether my scandal forced you into a life of misery.”

Silence followed, less charged than it might once have been, but still uneasy. After a moment, Gilbert spoke. “I will not pretend that your departure made things easy for me. But it is done. Diana and I have settled into our marriage in our own way.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “Whatever vile stories you have heard, you can see that I am hardly on the brink of despair.”

Leopold nodded, glancing over Gilbert’s desk, each piece of paper and pen in its specific place.

“It is just that I have never known you to place your own happiness first. You have always been about duty; covering my debts, shielding me. If the ton’s rumors are false, I am glad. But I also wonder whether you have locked yourself into a stifling path for my sake. You remain caretaker of everything, including me.”

Gilbert’s features tightened. “I promised our father I would watch over you, and I have. Do not twist that into a burden I resent. My marriage is another matter entirely.”

Leopold’s brow creased. “But I am now a grown man; I can face up to my own mistakes. You need not spend your life cleaning up after me while abandoning your own contentment. Even now, I see you tense whenever you mention your future. You are now a husband; perhaps you ought to consider being a…” He trailed off, wary of pushing too far.

Gilbert’s jaw flexed at the implication but did not lash out.

“That is between Diana and me,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “And contrary to what society may guess, we live on fair terms. Whether or not I seek anything beyond that is for me to decide.”

Leopold studied him, then let out a shaky breath. “Right. Then forgive me if I overstep. I only want you to realize you do not owe me your entire future. I am not some child requiring constant rescue. You have a wife; perhaps you ought to think about a life that does not revolve around me.”

Gilbert eyed him for a moment. “If this is all to say you are finally willing to shoulder responsibility, then that is good news,” he said. “That is precisely what I expect if you remain here. Father wanted you provided for, but that does not mean you can roam as you will, free of accountability.”

A brief flicker of guilt passed over Leopold’s face. “I understand. I am prepared to do better. And I would like to stay on if you would have me. If your wife will have me,” he requested. “I do not mean to disrupt the household further.”

Gilbert rose from his chair and walked over to the window. “Diana is not petty; she will not wish you turned away. But keep clear of fresh scandals, and help where you can. When you inherit one day, you had better know how to manage more than your amusements.”

Leopold offered a faint, earnest smile. “I promise. And… thank you. For letting me remain, and for not shutting the door on me as I had feared you might.”

Gilbert paused, then gestured to the breakfast tray. “Have you eaten? If not, take something. I have lost my appetite in any event.” His tone was dismissive but not hostile. “But if you hear more of these twisted rumors, I want to know who is behind them. The nonsense you have gathered does not match the likes of anything I have heard in London.”

Leopold nodded, relief mingling with determination. “I will ask around. Someone is fueling this gossip. I will see what I can learn.”

Gilbert muttered a terse thanks and turned toward the window.

“Good. Let that be your first responsible act; sorting out who dares spread these lies. I have no desire for more talk of curses or forced marriages.”

Leopold dipped his head in acknowledgment, then moved to the door. “Understood. I will not let you down this time.” With that, he took his leave and departed the study.

Gilbert remained silent, gazing out at the hedges swaying in the gentle morning breeze. He exhaled when he heard the door close, his mind digesting Leopold’s words. For all their friction, there was a wary hope in knowing his brother had returned with genuine remorse.

But the rumors Leopold mentioned left a bitter taste, and an uneasy thought gnawed at him:

Who would want to paint my marriage as a misery?

He glanced at the tray again, but his appetite was still absent. Whatever trials lay ahead, Gilbert only knew he needed to safeguard Diana from the spiteful whispers that once drove her to near ruin, and ensure his brother’s reformed intentions did not prove to be fleeting.

Diana stepped into the dining room, her heart compressing when she saw Leopold seated alongside Gilbert. A single place setting awaited her at the long table, which felt far too expansive for only three people. She summoned a poised smile, though her stomach knotted.

“Good evening,” she managed, inclining her head. “I trust I have not kept you waiting long?”

Gilbert immediately stood, his expression protective. “You are just in time. We have only just begun.” He gestured to the chair across from Leopold, then resumed his seat with a subtle frown.

Leopold rose more slowly, bowing to the duchess. Diana struggled to hold his gaze. Despite Leopold having been home for a few days, Diana tried her best to avoid him. She barely knew him, but her first impression was that he was a drunken fool; a buffoon that could have ruined her life. She felt that she finally had a tentative hold on happiness, and any interaction with him risked losing it.

“Your Grace,” Leopold said quietly, a contrite note in his voice. “I hope the day finds you well.”

She nodded briefly, aware of Gilbert’s eyes flicking between them. He also seemed wary and on edge, even though they had gone through their usual routines despite Leopold’s presence.

“As well as can be expected,” she replied, carefully unfolding her napkin. The hush that fell felt as thick as wool, and when a footman approached with the first course, no one spoke.

At length, Leopold ventured, “It is a fine evening. The sunsets here are still the best I recall.”

Diana forced a polite smile and accepted the dish the servant offered. “Yes,” she said in clipped syllables, “the house offers exceptional views to the west.”

She glanced at Gilbert, hoping he might steer the conversation, but he only lifted his glass of wine to his lips without meeting her gaze.

A few minutes ticked by, the room silent except for the scrape of utensils on porcelain. Finally, Leopold mustered the courage to speak again.

“Your Grace,” he said sheepishly, “I want to apologize for my part in the debacle. My recklessness put you in a terrible position.”

She stiffened, her fork hovering above her plate. “I appreciate the sentiment. However, the past cannot be undone.”

Leopold lowered his head. Despite appearing genuinely contrite, Diana felt that his apology stemmed only from a desire to relieve the awkwardness between them.

“True. But perhaps I can now make amends. If there is anything I can do…” he continued.

Gilbert set his glass down with a controlled clink. “Leopold, this is not the time?—”

“No,” Diana interrupted softly, meeting Leopold’s earnest gaze across the table. “Let him speak.” She swallowed, forcing herself to remain calm. “What do you wish me to say? That I forgive you? Perhaps I do, in a sense, but it does not make me more comfortable to have you here.”

“I know,” he murmured regretfully. “I see how you would rather avoid me, and I do not blame you. Yet if I left now, I would remain the coward who ran away. I would rather stay and show you I am no longer the same fool you once knew.”

Gilbert glanced from Diana to Leopold and back, apprehension etched in his brow. “I told him he may remain,” he said, trying to catch Diana’s eye. “But if it burdens you…”

She inhaled, setting her fork aside with utmost care. “I will not demand he depart. Yet let us be clear. I am uneasy with your presence, Lord Leopold. That does not simply vanish because you are repentant.”

Leopold nodded. “I understand. If it helps, I plan to keep out of your way. And if there is anything I can do to show you my sincerity—” He paused, wringing his hands. “I will do as you ask. I owe you that much.”

Diana studied him, her heart heavy. She could not forget the sleepless nights of scandal, or the day she had felt the world as she knew it collapse around her, but the remorse in Leopold’s eyes was unmistakable.

“I suppose time will reveal whether you truly mean what you say,” she said, her voice gentler than she intended. “I will not stand in your path, but do not expect trust or friendship overnight.”

Gilbert reached across the table, covering her hand with his own. “If that is settled,” he said, trying for a steadier tone, “perhaps we can eat without further strain.”

She gave him a tight smile while drawing her hand back. Even with his reassuring gesture, the undercurrent of discomfort lingered. The trio once again fell into an uneasy quiet and resumed their meals, although each bite of food had been rendered tasteless by the conflict.

Before the conclusion of the main course, Diana felt her composure crumbling. She dabbed her lips, then stood. “I am sorry… I need some air.” She dipped a slight curtsy. “Please excuse me.”

Gilbert half rose. “Diana… should I come with you?”

She shook her head, collecting her nerves. “No. It is all right. I will only step out for a moment.” Her gaze darted toward Leopold, who avoided her eyes, the guilt plain on his face.

Without waiting for further protest, she slipped into the corridor. The silence pressed in around her as she wandered aimlessly through the house. She did not want to collapse in front of them or betray her roil of emotions. Eventually, she spotted Hollings passing near the stairs.

“Your Grace,” Hollings said, bowing. “Is everything?—”

“Fine,” she interrupted, exhaling sharply. “I just needed to breathe.”

He straightened, his expression mild but sympathetic. “Would you care for tea in your room, perhaps?”

She almost declined, then nodded, appreciating the small kindness. “Yes. Thank you, Hollings. Please see it done. And perhaps let His Grace know that I have retired for the evening. I am quite tired.”

Hollings bowed and Diana headed up to her chambers. Hollings met her there and set a modest tray of calming tea in front of her. Ruth also hovered nearby, ready to help Diana dress for bed as soon as she requested.

“Has His Lordship—Leopold—caused any disruption for the staff?” she asked Hollings quietly, swirling the tea with a spoon.

Hollings cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. “He has made it a point to be courteous, my lady. There is some friction, of course, but no real trouble.”

She managed a weak smile. “I suppose that is something.”

Hollings hesitated, then ventured, “He does seem intent on earning everyone’s respect. Perhaps he truly regrets his past actions.”

Diana closed her eyes, nodding. “Yes, he might. But regret does not erase the discomfort I feel.”

Hollings offered a discreet bow. “Understandable, my lady. If you need anything else…?”

She shook her head. “No, that is all. Thank you.”

Diana sipped the tea, struggling to steady the frantic beat of her heart. If Leopold’s remorse were genuine, perhaps time could soften her resentment. However, the discord also weighed heavily on Gilbert, and she feared the burden might cause a wedge between them all. The air in the house had shifted and she was anxious for life to return to the happy normal one she had created with Gilbert.

For now, at least, she was grateful for a moment’s reprieve from the dining room’s stifling atmosphere. But as she finished her tea in the quiet of her room, she promised herself she would not let Leopold’s presence unravel the fragile closeness she and Gilbert had built. If it meant keeping a polite distance, so be it. She had endured worse storms of scandal; she could endure this too, until sincerity or time proved Leopold’s worth.