Page 18 of Taken By the Icy Duke

But first, she needed to gather herself. She stepped into the corridor, nodding absently to a passing maid who offered a polite curtsy. Her mind raced with possible strategies.

If Josephine spoke truthfully—if indeed the ton pitied Gilbert and scorned Diana—then Diana must carve her own path. She refused to remain a powerless figure, buffeted by the winds of cruel rumors.

Still, uncertainty gnawed at her. She felt silly that her nerves had sizzled under his teasing touch, knowing he could be entertaining someone else’s company.

Apprehension flared in her chest at the possibility, and she pressed her lips together, determined to push the unsightly image away. Let Josephine see that Diana was not some timid bride cringing behind the drawing-room curtains.

Diana took a final breath and turned toward the stairs. The rest of the day beckoned, filled with small tasks that would, she hoped, afford her some stability. She would build her reputation one purposeful step at a time. Rumors might linger, but so would her resolve.

As for Gilbert—she would face him soon enough, armed with the knowledge that their marriage’s quiet struggles would not vanish unless confronted.

The next time, neither Josephine’s derisive comments nor Gilbert’s detachment will catch me unprepared.

She might have felt foolish by responding to the stolen kiss on her neck, but no more. If he tried to tease or avoid her again she would meet him head-on, determined to discover whether their marriage was worth fighting for, or if she was destined to fight alone.

Chapter Nine

Gilbert returned home long after darkness had settled, expecting only stillness. The mansion’s corridors lay silent but for the soft crackle of distant hearth fires and the faint echo of his footsteps on the polished marble. Usually, he would retire at once, his chamber offering the only sliver of respite in a day otherwise filled with vexing responsibilities.

Instead, soft lamplight spilled from the small sitting room off his chambers. A faint irritation stirred at the unexpected sight. It was odd to see it lit at this hour, for Diana customarily sought her bed early and Gilbert did not customarily request his valet to keep the lamps lit in his chambers.

His valet knew better than to waste oil on empty rooms. He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion tugging at his patience. Curious and cautious, he stepped inside.

Diana stood before him wearing an alluring nightgown, her cheeks rosy in the gentle glow of the lamplight. Her lithe figure was silhouetted in amber by the lamp at her side.

Her long, loose hair framed her face in dark waves, and Gilbert found himself suddenly out of breath, struck by the contrast of her fair skin and the shadowy glow. Her posture—straight-backed, chin lifted—spoke of a purpose deeper than any casual goodnight.

“You are awake,” he said quietly, his words emerging more thickly than he had intended.

“Your lover came to see me today,” she announced calmly, despite the tremor he thought he detected underneath.

He felt his jaw tighten with fury and displeasure at the news. The dowager countess’s meddling was the last thing Diana deserved. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how best to approach her anger and hurt.

“I ended my liaison long ago. I have not slept with another since the moment we became wed,” he said after a tense moment, closing the door behind him. The click of the latch reverberated in the quiet.

Diana silently searched his face. A tinge of hurt crossed her features, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and she recovered her composure.

“I see you do not deny a relationship, then, which is well,” she replied. “She said enough to make me wonder if I will once again be humiliated. I will not endure that. I have already suffered a scandal not of my own making. I will not be shamed further by a straying husband.”

Gilbert raked a hand through his hair, wrestling between rage at the dowager countess and regret that he had left Diana so vulnerable. “I understand your suspicions,” he said carefully. “But the dowager countess has no claim on me. You must believe me. I have no intention of betraying our vows.”

“Do you know what it is like, Gilbert?” she demanded, her voice trembling despite the strength she tried to infuse into her words. “To have people look at you as though you are little more than an object of pity or disdain? To hear whispers behind your back about your worth—or lack of it? And to have your lover come to me, uninvited, as if to remind me of my place? I cannot bear it. Not again.”

“I shall not stand for it. I promise you,” Gilbert swore, caught off guard by the intensity of her words. For the first time in many years, he felt the inane urge to apologize, to submit to someone else.

“If you have desires, satisfy them here. With me.” She raised her chin, steadfastness and uncertainty mingling in her gaze. “I will not watch you drift to another’s bed.”

Her words cut him to his core more ferociously than he had expected. He wanted to refute it all, to promise her that no onewould dare humiliate her again. But the sight of her, defiant yet trembling, unraveled him.

While her curves made his throat tighten, it was her eyes—bright with unshed tears—that truly disarmed him. He cautiously stepped closer, as though any sudden movement might shatter the fragile thread between them.

In the aftermath of a confrontation of such magnitude, he expected an outburst, rather than her sudden, daring invitation. For a moment, Gilbert simply stared, aware of how the lamplight outlined every curve beneath her thin nightclothes.

The quiet crackle of the lamp’s flame heightened the moment as he reached for her hand, gently closing his fingers around hers. Even through the thin silk of her gown, he could sense her warmth—and when she did not withdraw, he brushed his thumb across her knuckles. The flutter of her eyelids told him she felt the same magnetic pull he did. Her breathing became shallow with expectation.

Gilbert’s heart hammered. He had kept his distance; some instinct to grant her space in a marriage neither of them had chosen. But this was something else entirely. She wanted him near to her.

She truly wants me.

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