Page 29 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)
Chapter Twenty-Nine
T he soft glow of lamplight greeted them as the carriage pulled up to Rivenhall House. Diana wanted only to disappear into her bedchamber without speaking, but she felt Gilbert’s intimidating form looming over her.
“I shall walk you upstairs,” he announced.
She hesitated, then nodded, turning toward the main staircase. He offered his arm, and though she rested her hand lightly on it, the gesture felt pretentious. They ascended it together, passing a pair of maids who bowed and hurried on. At the landing, Diana withdrew her hand and looked away.
“I suppose you want to speak,” she said discontentedly.
Gilbert let out a tense breath. “I—yes, I do. But perhaps it is best if we do so in your chamber.” He gestured down the corridor. “Shall we?”
She gave a curt nod, unwilling to start another argument in the open hallway. When they reached her door, she opened it and stepped inside, not bothering to light additional lamps. A single low-burning lamp on her vanity cast long shadows. Gilbert shut the door behind them, each movement echoing in the stillness.
They stood facing one another, neither one quite knowing how to begin. Finally, he broke the silence.
“I dislike how we left things,” he said, his tone gentler than before. “The ride home was… unpleasant.”
Diana stood a comfortable distance away and folded her arms. “Yes. It was.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then took several steps forward and brushed the back of his fingers along her arm. “I would rather not end our evening in anger.”
His touch sent conflicting emotions coursing through her; residual hurt, lingering desire, and indignation at his thinly veiled accusations. She swallowed, remembering how Josephine’s insinuations had riled him, and how he had glowered when she so much as smiled at Leopold.
“I am weary,” she murmured, though his nearness made her heart beat faster. “We can speak tomorrow.”
But he moved closer, tilting her chin up with a gentle pressure.
“Diana… let me make amends.” He leaned in, seeking her lips. At first she let him kiss her, his familiar warmth breaking through her resentment. However, a pang of anxiety derailed her yearning.
He kissed her more fervently and slipped his hands around her waist. She tried to reciprocate but her heart refused.
Gilbert seemed to sense her hesitation and pulled away, his eyes narrowing. “You are holding back,” he noted. “Is it because I lost my temper? Or is it about Leopold?”
Diana closed her eyes, struggling for composure.
“I do not want to argue again. I just… feel uneasy,” she said, shaking her head. “Truly, I am not in the mood tonight.”
He released a sharp breath, though he kept her within his arms.
“We can put aside the anger, can we not? Be close for once, without these suspicions and rumors haunting us?” His hand splayed at the small of her back, urging her nearer.
Diana almost let herself melt into him, but her secret pregnancy and his vow never to have children rose like a wall between them. She pressed a palm to his chest, halting him. Diana stepped back from Gilbert’s embrace, her heart pounding with fear and suppressed longing. He frowned and dropped his arms to his sides.
“What is it, Diana?”
She breathed hard and looked up at him. “I must ask you once again,” she said in a tear-filled voice. “You have not changed your stance on… on children, have you?”
He stiffened. “I have not,” he said firmly. “We have discussed this. You know my mind.”
She pulled free, biting back a sob. “So, you are still set against having any family with me.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he said, impatience hardening his tone. “I will not revisit the reasons, but they have not altered.”
She turned away, pressing a hand to her abdomen in a gesture of private dread.
“I cannot pretend any longer,” she said. “I cannot share your bed if you deny the very possibility of a family.” She forced her voice to remain steady, though her heart smarted with each word.
He stood in silence, his fists clenched at his sides. “Where is this sudden insistence coming from?” he asked. “I told you my reasons long ago. Why punish me now?”
She raised her head, unshed tears brimming in her brokenhearted eyes.
“I am not punishing you,” she said. “I only know that I cannot keep up this charade.”
“When did you decide this ?” he demanded, placing his fists on his hips.
“I simply cannot share this intimacy,” she said in a trembling voice. “I wish to sleep alone.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “I see,” he said, stepping back. “Then so be it.”
He turned on his heel and crossed to the door. Diana stood rooted, one hand pressed over her racing heart. She watched him depart with swift, tense steps, leaving her alone in the flickering lamplight.
She closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. The chill of the room settled around her, and she knew the night would offer little rest. The secret she carried weighed upon her more heavily with each passing day, and each moment spent at odds with Gilbert only magnified her dread of seeing his reaction to her announcement.
Diana sat curled on a settee near the hearth, a book lying open and unread in her lap. She tried to focus on the words, yet her mind drifted continually to her strained thoughts. Each passing day felt more ominous knowing she carried a child her husband would not accept.
Soft footsteps broke the silence. She lifted her gaze to see Leopold lingering by the doorway, his brow furrowed in concern.
“May I enter?” he asked, his tone subdued. “I noticed the light under the door and wondered if you might want company.”
“You may come in,” she said as she straightened up and set her book aside.
“Forgive me if I intrude. You appear… deeply troubled,” he said as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I am, though I hate to admit it,” Diana exhaled a shaky breath. “The mood in this house has been so volatile of late. I thought I might find some peace in here.”
He looked at Diana for a moment before taking the seat opposite, leaving a respectful distance.
“I can see that you are pale,” he said quietly. “Are you still feeling the effects of your… condition?”
She cast her eyes down, her fingers tightening on the settee’s edge.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I am not well. I never imaged it would take such a toll on me. And keeping the secret makes it no easier to bear the sickness.”
“You—Diana, you still have not told Gilbert?” he asked, his eyes widening.
She shook her head, fear tightening her throat.
“I cannot. He vowed never to father an heir, never to risk a family. He is so… adamant. I do not know how he would react, except with anger… or worse.”
“I knew he feared such things, but not to this extent. You must believe me when I say he is not cruel—merely haunted.” He hesitated, then added, “Did he provide you with any details about our accident?”
“I know only bits and pieces, that you and he lost your father and sister,” she replied, shaking her head. “Gilbert never speaks of it in depth.”
“Many years ago, we were traveling by carriage and met with disaster. I was much younger, and after our father died in that crash, Gilbert insisted on managing every aspect of our lives. The accident also claimed our little sister. We both survived, but I was left with a permanent limp. Gilbert felt responsible, as though he had failed to protect us all. He has carried that guilt with him ever since.”
Diana’s breath caught at the sorrowful tone in Leopold’s voice.
“I see,” she said, tears threatening. “That explains his protectiveness and his terror of… repeating tragedy.”
“Yes,” Leopold nodded. “He still fears he would fail a child, inasmuch as he believes he failed back then, and vowed never to father one. It is not that he lacks feeling; it is because he is consumed by the memory of that loss. I pray you understand that his harsh stance does not arise from indifference.”
“I had guessed he carried some deep pain,” she said, her voice quivering. “But hearing it from you confirms the depth of it. I wish I could reassure him, but he refuses even to discuss the notion of children.”
Leopold watched her wrestle with tears, then said gently, “Gilbert deserves to know. Perhaps this child will be the key to healing that old wound.”
“If he rejects the idea outright, it will break my heart. And I already feel so ill at times. Hiding this from him is… unbearable.”
He leaned closer and spoke sympathetically. “Then you must do whatever you believe is best for your own wellbeing,” he offered. “A short respite in the country might bring you peace until you find the courage to face him. You could visit your father’s estate, rest, and speak with your sister.”
She looked at him in silence for a moment, considering his suggestion.
“I have thought of that,” she admitted. “Though I had not decided. Now, I believe it may be the only course of action. I cannot stay here, day by day, feeling unwell and forever hiding.”
Leopold nodded and gave her a sad smile.
“I do not wish you to suffer on my brother’s account. I will not deny that I had a part in forcing this marriage upon you. If I can help you depart discreetly, I shall do so.”
“Thank you,” she said dejectedly. “I will make my preparations. I prefer to leave before Gilbert knows, lest he try to stop me. I do not want a confrontation.”
“Then I shall keep mum for a little while longer,” Leopold said, sitting back with a sigh.
“Thank you, again.” Her eyes glistened with gratitude. “I did not think I would ever confide something so grave to you, yet here we are. I fear I have no one else to trust in this moment.”
He lifted a hand in a small, earnest gesture. “I owe you a debt I can never repay,” he said. “If this is how I must atone, it is the least I can do. But take care—Gilbert will surely try to stop you if he suspects.”
“Then I must plan carefully,” she said. She pressed her lips together, her heart thudding. “I do not intend to remain away forever. Perhaps only until I feel calmer… safer.”
He stood, as if sensing that the conversation had reached its natural conclusion.
“Rest assured I will keep your secret, and I will help however you need,” he said. “Pray you find some peace at your father’s estate.”
She inclined her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Leopold,” she said softly. “You have been kinder than I ever expected.”
He offered a faint smile, then departed from the library, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her heart still pounded nervously but she felt a shred of relief. She had unburdened herself to someone and devised a makeshift plan. She would leave Rivenhall House and slip away to her father’s domain before Gilbert could stop her.