Page 37 of Taken By the Icy Duke

After a moment’s hesitation, he slipped out into the corridor, the door closing behind him with a muted click. The dim, silent hallway stretched out before him, and he pressed a hand against his temple, fighting the urge to return.

This is for the best.It must be this way.

His footsteps echoed on the carpet as he strode toward his own chambers, where a fresh set of clothes and the shield of daily tasks awaited. Estate correspondence, accounts, scheduled meetings—each was an armor of normalcy he could don, sealing away the memory of Diana’s sleeping face.

Still, a heaviness settled in his stomach, knowing that once she woke, she would find him gone. It was a cruelty for which he had no remedy, not if he intended to hold fast to his plan. Better for her to think him aloof and distant than to risk her heartbreak in the event of another calamity; a devastation he could not, would not, weather again.

At the far end of the corridor, a maid carrying a stack of linens bobbed a surprised curtsy. Gilbert acknowledged her with a curt nod, then turned on his heel toward his study, all too aware that the sun was steadily rising. Another day awaited him: duties, appearances, obligations that provided a safe distance from what lay behind that closed bedchamber door.

Yet despite all his efforts, he could not quite banish the image of Diana, asleep in the gray half-light, her breath weaving a fragile link between them; a link he was determined not to strengthen.

Chapter Seventeen

The morning light that filtered through the damask curtains drew Diana from the last vestiges of sleep. She stretched with quiet satisfaction, savoring the bedchamber’s stillness and the linens’ warmth. Gilbert had lingered by her side through the previous night, speaking quietly of trivialities that somehow mattered in the darkness.

He had been uncommonly at ease sharing those small confidences. As Diana slid a hand beneath her pillow, she recalled his low laugh at some remark she had made; the way he had rested his hand over hers as though it were entirely natural. They talked for what seemed like hours, only to fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Just then, a muted voice sounded beyond the door, followed by cautious knocking. Diana shifted upright and blinked at the early glow filtering through the curtains.

“Come in,” she called, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Ruth said softly, dropping into a curtsy. She stepped inside with a small tray bearing tea and a folded cloth. “I heard you stirring and thought you might care for tea at once. I have also brought fresh towels.”

“Thank you, Ruth,” Diana replied. She leaned forward, allowing Ruth to place the tray on the bedside table. As Diana picked up her cup of tea, she asked, “did you happen to see the duke this morning?”

“His Grace left quite early,” Ruth shook her head, lowering her eyes in deference. “He mentioned only that business called him away.”

A touch of disappointment welled in Diana, though she tried to hide it behind a polite nod.

“I see. Well, no matter. We shall doubtless speak this evening.”

Ruth laid the towels on a nearby chair, then gathered the curtains, letting in a brighter shaft of light. As she turned back, her gaze drifted over the small table near the bed, where a newly wrapped box sat with a neat ribbon.

“Is that from His Grace?”

“It must be,” Diana murmured, slipping from beneath the sheets. She had not yet noticed the box, and her heart leaped. “He must have left it before riding out, I suppose.”

Ruth offered a discreet smile. “Would you like me to stay while you open it, or would you prefer some privacy, Your Grace?”

“Stay for a moment,” she decided, leaving her bed to stand before the gift. Someone must have set the box precisely in place; ivory paper and a neat bow crowning it. With careful fingers, Diana untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

“Another reticule?” Ruth ventured, unable to hide her own intrigue.

Nestled inside lay an embroidered reticule, its fabric a gentle sage green. Fine stitches formed tiny leaves and blossoms. Diana’s breath caught, recalling a passing conversation with Gilbert about her needing a practical yet fashionable bag for day calls. Her chest tightened with a wave of affection, impressed that Gilbert had remembered such a minor detail.

Tucked within the reticule was a short note. Ruth pretended to straighten the linens as Diana unfolded it, politely keeping her gaze averted. In neat script, the message read:

Diana,

I recall your mention of wanting a fashionable little bag for daytime calls.

Perhaps this shall suffice until we see Madame Beaulieu again.

—G.

Surprise and delight lit up Diana’s face. It was not a jewel or an elaborate gown but a thoughtful piece which proved that Gilbert took her passing remarks to heart. She fingered the delicate embroidery.

Ruth cleared her throat quietly.

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