Page 3 of Taken By the Icy Duke

“I will hear no more of this, Diana. You are my daughter, and I will not stand by while you punish yourself for another’s wickedness. What happened this evening was not of your doing.”

Diana’s heart clenched as she met her father’s kind eyes. She had no doubt that he loved her, but in this moment, she felt her father’s love was blind to the situation. The guilt in her belly only grew as she wondered if her father truly understood the gravity of the situation.

“But it is my burden,” Diana whispered, her gaze dropping to the carriage floor. “I will do anything to make this right. If I must plead with Lord Leopold to marry me, then I will. If he refuses, I will find someone—anyone—willing to take me, even if it means marrying an elderly lord.”

The baron’s brows furrowed, and he straightened in his seat. “There is no need for such drastic measures, Diana. I will not have you sacrificing your future because of a moment of scandal.”

“How can you say that?” Diana burst out, her composure unraveling entirely. “Do you not see what this will do to us? To Alison? The whispers, the invitations that will dry up, the doors that will close? And you, Papa—your position was precarious even before this. Our family cannot withstand this shame.”

The baron’s lips tightened, and his face shadowed with thought. After a steadying breath, he reached out to clasp Diana’s hand.

“I understand your fear, my dear. But I will not allow this to destroy us. I am certain the duke will intervene to see this matter is resolved.”

“How can you be certain?” she scoffed, “One brother is a rake; what guarantees that the other is a man of honor?”

“Because he is known to be just that,” her father replied firmly. “Lord Rivenhall is a man of great influence and reputation. He will not allow this disgrace to fester. He is far too protective of his family name to stand idly by while unsavory matters unravel.”

Alison gave a small, hopeful nod, tightening her grip on Diana’s hand.

“Perhaps Papa is right. If the duke is truly as formidable as they say, he will ensure his brother does the right thing.”

Diana slumped back against the carriage seat in exhaustion. The faint flicker of hope offered by her father and sister felt distant; too fragile to grasp.

“I pray you are right,” she said softly. “But I fear no amount of honor can undo the damage that has already been done. He has not deigned to acquaint himself with us before this. I doubt he will feel generous enough to do so now that I am ruined.”

The baron sat back; his expression resolute. “Tomorrow, I shall write to the duke and request an audience. We shall face this with dignity, Diana, and we shall endure. You are stronger than you think.”

But as the carriage rolled on, Diana’s thoughts churned with the fear that her father’s optimism would not be enough. How could the rake’s foolishness ever be righted without leaving permanent scars on her family? She closed her eyes, the movement of the carriage lulling her into a restless silence as her tears finally subsided.

Even as she cried, she pressed her knuckles into her brow and promised herself that no matter what it took, she would ensure her poor decisions did not ruin her father and sister. They deserved to live a good life, away from the pall cast by her unintended indiscretion.

Chapter Two

The door to Leopold Ashwell’s bachelor lodgings rattled violently under Gilbert’s fist, the sharp, insistent knock echoing through the empty street. The Duke of Rivenhall had barely waited for his carriage to halt before striding up the steps, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Not more than half an hour earlier, the Marquess of Camburn had burst into his study with news that Leopold was embroiled in yet another scandal. This time, he had been found himself in a compromising situation with a well-bred young lady at a ball. Gilbert had missed the event, a decision he now regretted.

“Leopold!” Gilbert barked, his voice echoing through the heavy wood. “Open this door at once, or I swear I will break it down.”

From within came a muffled groan, followed by shuffling sounds, then the door swung open to reveal Leopold—disheveled, his waistcoat half undone, the smell of brandy emanating from him. Gilbert’s stomach twisted with disgust.This was not the brother he had hoped to guide from boyhood. This was a man intent on destroying everything Gilbert fought to protect.

Leopold’s cravat hung loosely around his neck and his waistcoat was unbuttoned and revealed a rumpled shirt stained with what Gilbert could only assume was spilled brandy. This was the brother who had repeatedly tested his patience, and who had gambled away fortunes and consorted with rakes and rogues, yet Gilbert always found a way to shield him from his debacles.

“Brother,” Leopold drawled, leaning heavily against the doorframe. His bloodshot eyes and lazy grin betrayed his condition. “What brings you here at this hour? Did your watchdog, Victor, already grace you with another lecture on my finer qualities? I am afraid you are too late. I am quite drunk enough to ignore them.”

Gilbert pushed past him without answering, his boots echoing on the wooden floor. He surveyed the wreckage of Leopold’s lodgings before turning to face his brother.

“You know damn well why I am here,” Gilbert said, his voice icy. Seeing Leopold now justified the urgency in Victor’s tone when he had relayed the scandal to Gilbert. “And yes, Marquess Camburn did indeed inform me of your latest disaster.”

“Which one?” Leopold laughed, stepping back from the door.

Moving toward the cluttered table, Gilbert’s sharp gaze swept over the remnants of Leopold’s evening. Empty bottles anddiscarded playing cards told their own sordid story. Leopold closed the door with a shrug, stumbling slightly as he moved toward a chair. His limp, a result of the tragic accident that had also claimed their father and sister, was more apparent in his drunken state.

“This,” Gilbert said coldly, gesturing toward the chaos, “is precisely why you are in this mess. Your life reflects your choices: disorder, indulgence, and complete disregard for consequences.”

Leopold groaned, throwing himself down onto a lounge chair with a dramatic sigh. “Must you make it a sermon? Very well, I am a rogue, a rake, a scoundrel. Is that not what you have always thought of me?”

“It is not what Ithink,” Gilbert replied, his voice quieter now, though no less cutting. “It is what you have proven. Repeatedly. The debts, the gambling, the company you keep—it all leads to this.” He gestured sharply around the room. “A ruined woman and a family legacy hanging by a thread.”

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