Page 28 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

D iana paused, resting a trembling hand upon a chair’s ornate back, willing the dizziness to subside. The corridor felt too warm, though a mild draft swept in from the courtyard. Her breathing was shallow, and she chastised herself for venturing so far from her room when she was still not fully recovered.

In the days after the ball, Diana’s strength faltered more often than she cared to admit. Though she tried to claim it was merely the heat or overexertion, her complexion remained wan, and dizzy spells plagued her when she least expected. She found herself seeking quiet hallways or secluded chairs to ride out each bout of weakness, determined not to alarm Gilbert.

Just then, Leopold rounded the corner. He hastened forward the moment he espied her wavering stance, his brow furrowed in concern. “Pray, be careful,” he said, offering an arm she reluctantly grasped. “Are you unwell again?”

She swallowed, grateful for the steady support but loath to appear vulnerable. “Merely a trifling spell,” she replied in a subdued voice. “I promise I shall be fine if I can but catch my breath.”

Leopold guided her gently to a carved window seat. “You ought not tax yourself so soon,” he murmured, easing her down. “Shall I fetch His Grace? Or perhaps ring for the maid?”

“No, please do not trouble them,” Diana said quickly, placing one hand over her eyes. “I only need a moment.”

He watched her silently, then knelt so his gaze was level with hers.

“At the risk of impertinence,” he said quietly, “if such spells continue, you must not keep them a secret from my brother. He deserves to know the truth of your condition.”

Her heart constricted. She had dreaded the possibility that Gilbert might learn the full extent of her faintness—indeed, the cause of it. Gathering her composure, she lowered her hand from her brow.

“I am frightened,” she admitted softly. “Frightened of what he might say, how he might… react.”

Leopold’s gaze gentled. “I understand your fear. Yet I fear greater harm in silence. Secrets gnaw at one’s peace, and I have seen firsthand how such concealment can wound.”

She inhaled a shaky breath. “I know. But I cannot bear to add to his burdens.”

He nodded, respecting her reluctance.

“Then at least permit me to say, I shall keep your confidence for as long as you wish. But do not mistake my discretion for encouragement to remain silent indefinitely.”

Diana managed a faint smile. “You have been kinder than I expected. Thank you, Lord Leopold, it means a great deal that you have not betrayed me.”

Leopold’s expression turned rueful. “After my past failings, it is the least I can do, truly. You may rely upon my word, though I pray you will entrust Gilbert in time.”

She rested her hand over his briefly, in quiet gratitude.

“You are most gracious, Lord Leopold. I… did not imagine we might reach an understanding.” Her cheeks warmed as she withdrew her hand. “I am in your debt.”

His eyes flickered with a touch of relief.

“I only hope to prove myself worthy of your goodwill,” he said, standing and again extending a steady arm. “Shall I help you back to your chamber, or do you feel well enough to proceed?”

Diana braced herself against the window seat, then rose slowly with his assistance. Though her legs felt unsteady, a measure of resolve coursed through her.

“I can manage, with your arm,” she said, regaining her balance. “Thank you.”

Together, they walked at a measured pace, Leopold ensuring she did not stumble. Diana held tight to Leopold’s offered arm, her steps slow and deliberate as they ascended the grand staircase. Her breath remained shallow from the dizzy spell, but his support steadied her. At the top of the steps, she paused, pressing a hand against the banister.

“Thank you, Lord Leopold,” she murmured unevenly. “Without your assistance, I fear I would have stumbled halfway up.”

Leopold gave her a faint, reassuring smile. “Think nothing of it. I trust you will take proper rest once we reach your chamber. And please, refer to me by Leopold, as though I am your brother.”

She nodded, attempting a calm tone she did not fully feel. “Very well, Leopold. I promise I shall lie down at once.”

Before either could say more, the sound of footsteps approached from the hallway beyond. Gilbert came into view, his brow creasing the instant he saw them together. He halted, regarding Leopold’s arm looped under Diana’s. A guarded look cast a shadow across his features.

“Diana,” Gilbert said quietly, stepping forward. “Are you unwell again?”

A flash of apprehension passed through her, realizing how she and Leopold must look. Clearing her throat, she withdrew from Leopold’s arm, turning gently to meet her husband’s gaze. For a moment, she felt the same as she had when Lady Whittaker had stumbled upon Leopold, drunkenly following Diana into the powder room, yet the circumstances were much different.

“A mild spell, nothing dire,” she assured him. “Your brother was kind enough to escort me upstairs.”

Leopold inclined his head, his tone subdued. “She was momentarily faint below stairs, so I merely offered support. I trust you do not mind?”

Gilbert’s lips thinned, but he answered with composed politeness.

“Of course not,” he said, though his comportment said otherwise. Then, more softly, “Diana, allow me to help you.”

She mustered a small smile and shifted toward Gilbert, lightly resting her hand on his offered arm.

“Thank you,” she said, this time sounding warmer. She pressed his sleeve, silently assuring him that she preferred his company. “I truly only need to lie down.”

Leopold glanced at them both, then bowed.

“In that case, my brother, I shall leave her in your care.” He paused, meeting Diana’s eyes briefly to ensure she was steady. “Shall I send for your maid or the physician?”

Diana shook her head.

“No need. You have my thanks. Please, take your ease for the afternoon.” Her gaze softened. “I am obliged to you, my lord, for your kindness.”

Leopold offered a courteous nod, stepping back.

“Then I bid you both good day.” With that, he withdrew down the corridor, his uneven footsteps echoing along the walls.

Left alone, Diana clutched Gilbert’s arm more firmly. She felt the rigidity in his muscles, and sensed the jealousy he did not voice but which emanated from him nonetheless.

Gilbert’s voice revealed the concern that lay beneath his feigned calmness. “You should not have walked unaccompanied if you felt faint. That was quite foolhardy of you.”

“I did not realize how unsteady I was until it overcame me,” she said, trying to reassure him. “Truly, it was a small matter.”

His dark eyes turned toward where Leopold had vanished.

“I appreciate that Leopold was there to help you in your time of need,” Gilbert managed to say, though his sincerity fell short.

Sensing his unease, Diana lifted her free hand to his cheek, letting her fingertips linger.

“There is no cause for alarm,” she said. “Leopold meant no mischief. He has proven thoughtful in my frailties.”

Gilbert exhaled, the rigidity in his body lessening minutely. “Then I am relieved, if still… vexed that I was not there first.”

“You cannot guard me every moment,” she chided. “And do not burden yourself further. Sufficient rest shall see me right again.”

Gilbert leaned close, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“If only you would confide in me whenever you feel faint,” he murmured. “I prefer not to hear or see it secondhand.”

She nodded, guiding them both toward her chamber door. “I shall, if it persists,” she whispered, sliding him a tender look. Then, stepping inside, she loosened her hold on his arm and slipped into the quiet of her room. “Thank you, Gilbert… for understanding.”

His expression softened at her gratitude, though the tight line of his jaw hinted at lingering jealousy.

“Rest well,” he said. “I shall be near, should you need anything.”

With that, he gently closed the door behind her. Diana grimaced, her heart twisting painfully with the secret she kept from him. Yet a faint comfort remained: despite the discord, she had managed to soothe Gilbert’s bristling pride, and for once, Leopold’s presence had not instigated conflict.

Gilbert stepped from the carriage, tugging at the lapel of his jacket as he surveyed Lord Merrivale’s brightly lit residence. He forced a civil expression for the footmen, then offered his arm to Diana. She accepted, her features set in a careful mask. He felt an undercurrent of nervousness run like a stream beneath his skin, and wondered if attending yet another social event would soothe or worsen the rumors.

“I shall fetch us some refreshment,” Diana said when they reached the crowded salon.

He inclined his head, noting how swiftly she withdrew from him. She wove through the guests with graceful steps, leaving him to watch her depart. His gaze slid to a far corner, where Leopold stood among a group, apparently at ease. A mild surge of irritation flickered in Gilbert’s chest. While he had welcomed Leopold home, he had quickly grown annoyed at Leopold’s constant presence, especially by how friendly he had become with Diana.

He turned to greet an acquaintance, exchanging stiff pleasantries about estate matters. The conversation quickly bored him and he excused himself, drifting toward the drinks table, only to find Josephine Halfacre blocking his path. The violet sheen of her gown caught the lamplight in a bold display.

“You appear agitated, Your Grace,” Josephine noted in a silky voice.

“I have no interest in conversation tonight, Lady Halfacre,” he said tersely, trying to sidestep her.

Josephine arched a brow. “Why so severe? One might think you found something troubling across the room.” She nodded toward Diana, who was now standing with Leopold, evidently laughing at some remark.

He forced a harsh breath. “I suggest you stop making insinuations.”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Is that a mere insinuation, or am I right to wonder why you glower at your lovely duchess while she shares a jest with Lord Leopold? After all, we do recall the initial scandal, do we not? Perhaps you fear old sparks are rekindling.”

His jaw clenched. “I do not glower. And I fear nothing of the sort.”

Josephine let a soft laugh escape. “That is not the picture you present, standing here with storm clouds in your eyes. Truly, I fail to see why you remain so steadfast with a wife who appears so content in your brother’s company—unless, of course, you relish these complications.”

He leaned in, his voice a warning growl. “I have no appetite for your provocations, Josephine. Remove yourself before I speak too candidly.”

She smiled, false sweetness curving her lips. “Your loyalty is commendable, though I recall days when you sought respite from all such entanglements. If the duchess’s relationship with Leopold troubles you, remember my door has never closed. I stand ready to offer you simpler company.”

“I do not stoop to old diversions,” he said, quiet fury infiltrating his tone. He felt utterly disgusted that she would bring up such topics just barely out of earshot of other guests. He looked around anxiously, hoping that no one had heard her.

She pursed her lips. “So protective, and yet you brood. I merely highlight that she laughs with Lord Leopold while you scowl from afar.” She shrugged. “But do as you wish, Your Grace.”

He shot her a final warning glance. “Refrain from speaking of Diana again,” he said, stepping around her with a clipped stride.

Gilbert crossed the salon, weaving past guests with a swiftness that threatened his veneer of calm. He spotted Diana handing a glass of wine to Leopold, her lips curved in a subtle smile. At his approach, her smile vanished.

“I brought you some wine,” she said softly, extending the second glass to him. “Shall we?—”

He took it, forcing a stiff nod. “Thank you,” he said, ignoring Leopold except for the briefest of glances.

Leopold bowed slightly. “If you will excuse me…” He slipped away, leaving Gilbert and Diana standing amid the bustling gathering.

“We might take our leave soon,” Gilbert announced. “I find I have already had quite enough of this crowd.”

She swallowed, not meeting his gaze. “If you prefer,” she said, carefully neutral. “Although we have only just arrived.”

“We can claim other engagements,” he excused.

“I am happy to return home to rest,” Diana agreed.

They offered polite farewells to Lord Merrivale, exchanging obligatory smiles. Gilbert’s annoyance simmered through every forced bow and curtsy. Diana remained quiet, and he sensed her own unease pulsing like a second heartbeat between them.

By the time they reached the foyer, his patience had frayed. Outside the door, the night air held a crisp hint of autumn. A footman assisted Diana into her cloak.

“You seemed rather… entertained by Leopold,” he observed.

She stiffened. “He made a passing jest. Need I stifle every laugh to avoid your disapproval?” She kept her gaze on the footman’s deft work as he fastened her cloak.

He exhaled, frustration rolling through him. “Josephine approached me spouting vile insinuations. I loathe giving weight to her words, but I cannot ignore the… impression you and Leopold convey.”

“I see,” she said in a clipped tone. “So, you trust Josephine’s prattle more than you trust my intentions. Thank you for letting me know.”

His jaw set. “That is not it. I merely?—”

She turned away, cutting him short. “Shall we go, Gilbert? The carriage is waiting.”

He followed her down the steps, swallowing the angry retort building in his throat. The footman handed them inside and the door closed, sealing them in a shell of prickling silence. Streetlamps illuminated the rigid lines of their respective postures. As the horses started forward, Gilbert closed his eyes, recalling Josephine’s sly insinuations, and the sight of Diana laughing with Leopold.

“I only ask that you consider how it looks,” he said at last. “You know how rumor can grow from the merest spark.”

She inhaled sharply. “If the merest spark threatens you so, perhaps you should speak plainly. Do you think me unfaithful?”

He set his jaw, opening his eyes to glare out the carriage window.

“I do not think that,” he muttered, though jealousy twisted in his gut. “But I cannot abide seeing him fawn over you.”

She folded her hands stiffly and stared at him through the darkness. “He was not fawning, Gilbert, only being kind. Perhaps you should attempt that.” The faint quiver in her tone suggested she held back a much deeper hurt.

He struggled with a reply, but resentment mingled with his guilt and he chose to remain silent. In that cramped enclosure, neither found the words to mend the rift that Josephine had caused with a few pointed remarks.