Page 17 of Taken By the Icy Duke

Diana’s throat tightened. Pity? A burden? She wanted to refute it, but Josephine’s every syllable dripped with sly insinuation. “His Grace is not one to be coerced. He saved me from greater humiliation, yes, but I believe he did so willingly.”

Josephine leaned back, crossing her ankles gracefully.

“Oh, I am sure he did. Willingly enough to sign the marriage lines. But willing and eager are two different states, are they not? I knew him in another era, long before this fiasco. He was a man who cherished his freedom. Now, so newly shackled—” Her lips quirked. “Forgive me, newly wedded—one wonders if he is content or laments his sacrifice.”

The subtle emphasis on ‘I knew him’ prickled Diana’s spine. “You speak as though you and His Grace shared a…specialunderstanding.”

Josephine’s gaze turned sympathetic, as if dealing with a naïve child. “I will not claim we were ever bound by promises. But I think I may say we enjoyed each other’s company—when it suited us. He is complex, your husband: slow to trust, careful with attachments. Did he not warn you how difficult he can be?”

Diana swallowed hard, struggling to maintain her composure. Each word from Josephine hinted at past intimacies. Diana had no proof, but the unsettling and painful suggestion was evident.

It painted a picture of Gilbert in a different light: a man who chose his lovers at will, yet now found himself tethered to a woman he rescued out of necessity rather than desire.

“I know he can be reserved,” Diana said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “But that does not diminish our arrangement. We have begun building a life here.”

“Quietly, yes. But let us consider the facts.” Josephine tapped a finger on the arm of her chair.

“Your honeymoon period, as the ton calls it, should be a time of closeness. Instead, the duke is absent, and rumors swirl unchecked. Some say he avoids you. Others whisper you make demands he finds inconvenient. And there are those who pity him, seeing him as trapped by your scandalous association with Lord Leopold. They claim your presence prevents him from courting a more…compatible partner.”

Diana’s heart twisted. “We are married. There can be no question of a more compatible partner.”

Josephine’s eyes gleamed. “Of course not. Yet gossip rarely cares for legality when it can spin a more tantalizing story. What if he regrets not waiting for a more suitable match? What if you find him distant and incapable of true warmth? These whispers will cling, my dear duchess, unless he takes action to refute them.”

Diana clenched her hands in her lap, her nails biting into her palms. She should cast Josephine out, refuse to indulge her poisonous talk. But each barb struck a chord of fear, making herwonder if it might carry a kernel of truth. Gilbert had scarcely spoken with her today; did he truly regret their marriage?

Forcing herself to speak calmly, Diana said, “His Grace will handle these matters in his own time. He is not one for public declarations, but rest assured, he will not let these rumors harm his family name.”

Josephine’s smile turned thin. “I admire your faith. Truly, I do. Still, I worry. If the duke remains passive, the ton might conclude he has resigned himself to his fate. That he wed you only because he had no other choice. They might snicker behind fans, calling you cunning and him hapless. Perhaps even whisper that he pines for another woman—someone who knew him before all this unpleasantness.”

Diana’s heart jolted. She drew a breath, trying not to show how deeply her words cut. “I refuse to be intimidated by rumors or the ton’s nattering. I know what we share. In time, the truth will emerge.”

Josephine stood, smoothing her skirts and smirking in a way that infuriated Diana.

“I respect your resolve. I truly do. It must be difficult, stepping into a role many believe you do not deserve. You handle yourself well, given the circumstances.” She paused, then added with a feigned sigh, “I came here today hoping to warn His Grace of the storm brewing in society’s corners. Since he is not here, I have done my best to inform you instead.”

“Your warning is noted,” Diana said, her voice taut. She rose as well, meeting Josephine’s gaze with as much steadiness as she could muster. “I shall be sure to tell him of your visit.”

“Please do,” Josephine said, her eyes lingering on Diana’s face as if searching for cracks. “I imagine he will want to know that I took the trouble to come. After all, I care about his reputation.”

Diana managed a tight smile. “Of course. And I thank you for your…concern.”

The widow inclined her head. “Should you ever wish to speak freely, without the constraints of polite society, I would be happy to oblige. I know how lonely a noble marriage can be, especially one formed under a cloud of scandal.”

Diana’s jaw tightened. “Your courtesy is appreciated.”

“Think nothing of it. I only hope that, in time, your husband shows the world what sort of man he truly is—before it is too late, and whispers solidify into established truth.”

Josephine moved toward the door, her pace unhurried, as if she owned the hallways as much as Diana did. Before leaving, she glanced back with a mild, almost pitying smile. “I wish you luck, Your Grace. You will need it.”

The door closed. Diana stood rigidly, her heart pounding. She felt as though she had just wrestled a serpent in her own drawing room, emerging from the fray with no clear victory.

Josephine had dangled too many insinuations. Gilbert might have regrets, he might prefer another; he might pity or resent his new wife. Every poisonous jab gnawed at Diana, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Could Josephine have been Gilbert’s lover, or just a woman who once circled him, hoping for more? Either way, the widow had made it clear that Diana’s position was precarious; her reputation was under siege, her husband’s loyalty was uncertain, and her own worth was being questioned by those who thrived on scandal.

Diana’s cheeks warmed at the memory of Gilbert’s occasional teasing moments; small things, like his careless kiss near her neck that left her heart racing in a way she found both thrilling and infuriating. It bothered her that his attentions could affect her so deeply while he appeared so untouched.

Diana exhaled sharply and wrapped a hand around the back of the chair. She must not yield to fear. She must become an active participant in her own fate, not merely a pawn in others’ gossip. She would show competence, strength, and dignity.

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