Page 1 of Taken By the Icy Duke

Chapter One

“Miss Gillingham, I assure you that this is all a dreadful misunderstanding!”

Leopold Ashwell slurred, staggering slightly as he tried to execute a courtly bow. Instead, he nearly lost his footing, catching himself on the gilded edge of the powder room’s doorway. His grin wavered, more in an attempt to charm than to explain, though it failed entirely. The soft glow of the candelabras illuminated his flushed face, crumpled cravat, and the faint stain of spilled champagne on his waistcoat.

Lady Whittaker’s cane struck the marble floor sharply, a crack of thunder in the otherwise hushed room.

“Dreadful, indeed. Lord Ashwell, your conduct tonight is beyond abhorrent. And you, Miss Gillingham,” she snapped, her cold eyes cutting through the air like a blade. She turned to Diana, her glare enough to make her blood run cold. “What excuse canyou offer for allowing such impropriety? Alone with a man in a powder room, no less!”

“I did not allow—” Diana’s words came out in a panicked rush, her voice catching as her chest tightened. “I only stepped away for a moment to collect myself. I had no idea he would follow?—”

“Had no idea?” Lady Whittaker’s scornful laugh echoed down the corridor, drawing the attention of a passing servant who quickly averted his gaze and hurried on. “Do you take me for a fool, Miss Gillingham? You must think your family’s ruin is some jest, for you have handed it to us all on a silver platter. The ton will not forgive this carelessness, nor will they forget it.”

Diana’s gloved hands clenched together, the delicate lace digging into her palms as her heart raced. Each of Lady Whittaker’s words struck with the precision of a seasoned executioner, dismantling her composure piece by piece. The distant strains of music from the ballroom now felt mocking, a cruel reminder of how quickly her night had unraveled.

“Lady Whittaker, if I may—” Lord Ashwell began, his voice overly loud in the tense silence.

“You may not!” the matron barked, turning her glare toward him. “You are a disgrace, Lord Leopold, and a blight upon your brother’s otherwise pristine name.”

Leopold’s mouth opened and closed, the flush on his cheeks deepening, but he made no further attempt to defend himself.Unrelenting, Lady Whittaker turned her attention back to Diana.

“Your father will hear of this, Miss Gillingham,” she spat, her voice low but brimming with finality. “And pray you have an explanation that carries more weight than the drivel I have been subjected to this evening. For his sake, if not your own.”

“And you, Lord Ashwell,” she added, her words sharp enough to cut through his drunken haze, “will not take another step until this girl’s family arrives. I will not have you skulking about to make this worse.”

Leopold blinked, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he hastily plastered on his trademark grin. “Lady Whittaker, there is no skulking, I assure you. I am merely?—”

“You will remain silent,” she commanded, the authority in her voice brooking no argument. “And you, Miss Gillingham, will remain here with me until your father is informed. Do not think for a moment that I will leave you unattended with this libertine again.”

Diana’s stomach churned, the shame curling around her more tightly with every passing second. She wanted to defend herself, to explain, but her throat was dry, and her words felt inadequate against the weight of Lady Whittaker’s disapproval. Leopold, of course, had no such restraint.

“I shall fix this!” he declared loudly, gesturing as if orchestrating some grand play. “Do not worry, Miss Gillingham. My brother?—”

“Your brother?” Diana interrupted, her voice trembling but sharp enough to slice through his drunken bravado. “You expect me to rely on the Duke of Rivenhall to repair what you have broken?”

“Yes, precisely!” Leopold’s enthusiasm did not waver, even as his balance did. “He is frightfully good at fixing things, you see. You will not find a more capable man in all of England. Trust me?—”

“Enough!” Diana snapped, her composure cracking under the pressure. Her voice rose, unsteady but fierce, cutting through the tension in the corridor. “You have done more than enough already. Leave me, Lord Ashwell. Just leave!”

“You have heard the lady. Now go stand over there by the wall, where you can do no further harm,” Lady Whittaker commanded, raising her cane and pointing it like a sword toward Leopold.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking between Diana’s glare and Lady Whittaker’s unyielding stance. With a sheepish grin and a half-hearted bow, he shuffled unsteadily to the side, his limp making his drunkenness seem more pronounced. Reaching the edge of the room, he leaned heavily against the wall for support.

Diana stood rigid, the air in the corridor heavy around her. She fought to steady her breathing, her gloves clenched tightly inher hands. Lady Whittaker remained by her side, the weight of Diana’s fate looming before her.

Ever since Diana and her sister, Alison, came out, Lady Whittaker had never been kind or generous to the young ladies, looking down on them because of their low rank.

Although Lady Whittaker had no eligible sons or grandsons, she seemed to take pleasure in reminding Diana, Alison, and other ladies from less wealthy families that they were unworthy of men of high standing. Diana often wondered if Lady Whittaker had been waiting for an opportunity to catch one of them making a mistake.

She cast hateful glances at Leopold, wondering what had inspired him to follow her in the first place. He had given Lady Whittaker the ammunition she had needed.

Moments stretched like hours until the sound of hurried footsteps broke the stifling silence. Diana looked up to see Alison and their father striding toward her. Her father led the way, his face pale with worry. Alison followed closely behind, her expression stricken.

“Diana!” her father called in a voice tinged with alarm. He slowed as he approached, his gaze darting between his daughter and the formidable Lady Whittaker. “What has happened?”

“Baron Crayford,” Lady Whittaker greeted, her tone grave as she gestured toward Diana, “your daughter has found herselfin a most serious situation. I suggest you handle this matter immediately.”

“Thank you, Lady Whittaker. I assure you we will manage this from here,” the baron replied, his expression tight as he inclined his head toward the formidable matron.

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