Page 34 of Taken By the Icy Duke

Madame Beaulieu’s eyes gleamed with approval.

“An excellent choice. Understated grace can speak volumes more than excessive trimmings. I believe a few gowns in refined tints—soft greens, dusky roses, perhaps even a gentle gold, would flatter your complexion quite well. Of course, we may also craft some bolder pieces for grand events, should you wish to be noticed.”

Diana managed a faint smile, feeling her cheeks redden. “I appreciate your expertise, Madame. I do wish to uphold my duties as the Duchess of Rivenhall, yet not appear too brazen in my style.”

With that, measuring tapes unfurled and pins appeared from nowhere. The assistants fussed around Diana’s shoulders, waist, and hips with practiced efficiency.

Now and then, Madame Beaulieu posed questions about Diana’s usual activities, the types of events she might attend, and her favorite shades. Each inquiry reminded Diana of how different her life had become in such a short span of time. At last, the modiste stepped back, consulting her notes.

“Very good, Your Grace. I already envision at least three gowns that would suit your figure magnificently, along with matching accessories. Shall we also consider a riding habit and one or two morning dresses? I suspect you will soon be quite busy on the social rounds.”

Diana exhaled a quiet laugh. “You are most thorough, Madame. Yes, a riding habit might be useful. And I suppose more than one morning dress is in order.”

Between estate matters and the demands of London society,I shall need a wardrobe that surpasses anything I have ever owned.

Although the prospect was daunting, a small thrill erupted in her stomach at the prospect of embracing her role.

Madame Beaulieu tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Then we are in agreement. My assistants will draw up preliminary sketches for you to review. Once you select your favorites, we can begin the actual fittings.”

Diana gave a grateful nod. “Thank you, Madame. I look forward to seeing what you devise. I confess having so many choices is quite new to me.”

“Never fear, Your Grace,” Madame Beaulieu assured, gathering her measuring tapes. “We shall navigate these choices together, and soon you will have a wardrobe worthy of any ball, salon, or dinner. A duchess must command attention wherever she goes.”

The modiste’s confidence buoyed Diana’s spirits, and she found herself smiling genuinely.

“Then I place myself in your capable hands,” she said, stepping down from the dais with the aid of an assistant’s guiding arm.

Though I once scrimped and saved for a single Season’s gowns, now I am on the receiving end of a full suite of fashions. How quickly the world can change.

Gathering her gloves and reticule, she prepared to depart. Madame Beaulieu curtsied deeply, promising to send along sketches within the next two days.

Stepping out into the bright afternoon, Diana drew a fortifying breath, letting the bustle of London remind her of all that lay ahead. As her carriage rolled away from the modiste’s shop, she pressed a hand lightly against her heart.

For all the uncertainties swirling in her life, at least she could now face the ton in style, secure in the knowledge that she would do so as the Duchess of Rivenhall, with new gowns fit for every occasion.

Chapter Sixteen

Gilbert stood alone in his study, glaring at the untouched ledgers on the desk. A fire crackled in the grate, throwing restless shadows across the paneled walls. He tried to redirect his thoughts to estate balances and pending contracts, but each line blurred before his eyes. His attention drifted repeatedly to Diana.

This is absurd.

He braced both palms on his desk. They had wed out of necessity, yet she somehow consumed his thoughts in a way no woman ever had. He recalled the soft warmth of her body and the taste of her lips from the previous night, then gritted his teeth, forcing the memory away. Outwardly, he needed to remain composed. A duke did not allow personal entanglements to overshadow duty, no matter how tempting.

A subdued knock interrupted him. His valet, Marsden, entered, bowing.

“Your Grace, the carriage is nearly ready for this evening.”

“Very good,” Gilbert straightened, smoothing the front of his coat. “Bring me my black evening coat. And have the driver maintain a punctual pace.”

Marsden disappeared, and Gilbert let out a sharp breath.

This is a simple theater outing, nothing more.

They needed to show society that he and his new duchess stood united. Yet the memory of her smile and the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability in her eyes continued to torment him. Gilbert grimaced at himself in the mirror, reached for his gloves and strode into the hall.

For a moment, a hush fell across the foyer as Diana appeared, gliding down the staircase in the dark-blue silk gown he had gifted her. His heart stumbled in his chest, though not a glimmer of his gut reaction crossed his face.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” she greeted softly. Her cheeks held a faint flush, but her tone was perfectly polite.

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