Page 38 of Taken By the Icy Duke

“It is quite lovely,” Ruth said, peeking at the embroidered reticule over Diana’s shoulder. “Shall I place it with your other belongings for the day, Your Grace?”

“Yes, please do,” Diana replied softly, still feeling the warmth of Gilbert’s thoughtful gesture. She let the reticule settle on her lap, its delicate leaves glimmering in the gentle morning light.

Ruth curtsied. “Shall we attend to your attire now? You wished for something comfortable this morning, as you stated that you are staying in.”

Diana nodded, lifting the note Gilbert had written and pressing it briefly to her chest before setting it aside. “Yes, a simple gown will do. I would prefer to remain unburdened by formal trappings if I am to be at home.”

“Very good, Your Grace,” Ruth said, moving to the wardrobe. She selected a modest day gown of soft muslin, its design neatly embroidered at the cuffs but otherwise unadorned. “This should offer you ease without sacrificing propriety,” she added with a small smile.

In short order, Ruth brought Diana’s slippers, helping her slip them on. “Will you be requiring anything else?” the maid asked.

“That will be all,” Diana said with a grateful smile, glancing at the sunlit window. “Thank you for your assistance this morning.”

Ruth curtsied again and departed quietly, leaving Diana to bask in the soft daylight. She brushed a hand over the embroidered reticule waiting on the dressing table; another apt reminder of Gilbert’s subtle kindness.

Downstairs, the dining room was predictably quiet. A single place setting awaited Diana, and a footman stood by, ready to serve. She exchanged a few words with him, inquiring if he had seen the duke. He advised that His Grace had departed at dawn, confirming Ruth’s report. With a mild pang of disappointment, Diana sipped her tea and nibbled halfheartedly on a scone.

She could not suppress the wish that he might have stayed longer, especially now that they were finding common ground in those precious hours after dark.

Just as she finished breakfast, she heard the distinct crunch of wheels over the gravel drive. Diana rose, crossing to one of the dining room windows, frowning at the early caller. She glimpsed a carriage with a liveried driver she did not immediately recognize.

A footman hustled from the entrance, bowing politely to someone stepping out of the vehicle. The moment she caught sight of a deep lilac gown swirling around a slender figure, her pulse gave a small jolt.

A few minutes later, the same footman appeared in the dining room, his head bowed.

“Your Grace, the Dowager Countess, Lady Halfacre, has arrived, requesting an audience.”

Diana stiffened her spine, nodding. “Show her to the drawing room, please. I shall receive her there directly.”

As Diana turned toward the drawing room, her heart fluttered as she caught sight of her reflection in a nearby mirror. Though her hair was pinned with care and her posture was perfectly upright, she could not shake the feeling that something in her appearance or bearing might be amiss.

This is my house.I am the Duchess of Rivenhall.

Yet beneath that internal mantra, a nagging self-doubt gnawed at her, whispering that she was still an interloper in a life meant for someone more self-assured and of better standing.

She passed into the drawing room, ordering a fresh pot of tea in what she hoped sounded like a composed, authoritative voice. She settled by the window seat and meticulously arranged her skirts, trying to mask the flutter in her stomach. Josephineswept in, her gown of lustrous fabric whispering over the polished floorboards with a confidence that spoke volumes.

The widow’s alluring posture and the almost predatory flick of her eyes underscored how effortlessly she inhabited any space. Only after her sharp, assessing glance did Josephine’s gaze meet Diana’s, a slight, knowing smile curving her lips, as though she knew precisely how to command attention without ever speaking a word.

“Duchess,” Josephine greeted, her tone seemingly polite but edged with condescension. “You appear comfortable. I trust you are well this morning?”

Diana inclined her head. “I am, thank you. And you, Countess?”

Josephine acknowledged the inquiry with a barely perceptible nod of her chin, then chose to stand rather than accept the seat Diana had indicated.

“I wished to call on you,” Josephine announced, casting a deliberate glance around the room as though evaluating every detail of the décor. “And to share some news regarding a gathering I intend to host next week—chiefly for the duke’s pleasure.”

Diana frowned slightly at Josephine’s choice of phrase.

“An event formyhusband?” she asked, maintaining a polite tone. “I am not certain he is aware of such a plan.”

Josephine brushed away the observation with a dismissive wave, offering a bright, practiced smile. “A hostess is at liberty to indulge in a little novelty, especially when it comes to entertaining a distinguished guest such as the Duke of Rivenhall.”

She retrieved a sealed envelope from her embroidered reticule, holding it out as though it were a token of grace.

Diana stepped forward calmly, taking the envelope without haste. Their gloved fingers grazed, and for a heartbeat, Josephine’s gaze sharpened.Once,Diana thought,that might have unsettled me.But not today.

“How thoughtful,” she said, breaking the seal. She scanned the gilt-edged card, recognizing Josephine’s well-known estate; the scene of more than a few scandalous flirtations if rumor was to be believed.

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