Page 40 of Taken By the Icy Duke

Diana squared her shoulders. She needed time away from society’s prying eyes, and a chance to see her family. And—she allowed herself a small, bolstering thought—to show Gilbert the place she came from.

If Josephine thought to unsettle her with talk of how “busy” the duke might be, so be it. Diana had no intention of cowering; she had another priority now, one that mattered more than the dowager countess’s meddling.

With a last glance at the door through which Josephine had left, Diana ascended the stairs, already planning for a journey that might remind her who she was, and how far she had come.

Chapter Eighteen

Acrisp morning sun gilded the rolling hills as the carriage rumbled away from Rivenhall House. Inside, Diana sat with her hands folded in her lap, her gaze moving between the passing countryside and Gilbert’s composed profile. Some quality time in the country with her family seemed a necessary diversion from the whirlwind pace of mingling with the ton.

Since Josephine’s call days earlier, she had resolved to visit her father and sister. Although part of her still bristled at Josephine’s insinuations, another part realized that she needed this respite, not only to reconnect with her family, but to show Gilbert the simpler world from which she came.

“I trust the drive is comfortable enough?” Gilbert asked quietly, breaking their companionable hush.

“Yes, quite. I do value your company, Gilbert. I am glad you made the time for this journey.” Diana said, summoning a smile.

He lowered his head, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

“I am your husband,” he said simply. “It is only natural I support you in visiting Lord Crayford.” After a moment, he added, “besides, I must see how the repairs I funded are holding up.”

Diana’s heart gave a small stir. Gilbert’s wealth had rescued her father from creditors ensuring that Crayford Manor, while modest, would remain in the family. Yet he never lorded that generosity over her. If anything, he seemed reluctant to remind her father of their unequal means.

When they reached the estate’s gates of rusted iron, bearing the Crayford’s faded crest, Diana felt a catch in her throat. The stone walls and ivy-choked hedges looked more neglected than she recalled. She inhaled, determined not to let sadness mar her expression. Though she had been gone from her childhood home for only a few months, it seemed so strange to her now.

A single servant in a well-worn livery hurried to open the carriage door.

“Your Graces,” he said, bowing so low his cap nearly tumbled from his head. “We are honored by your visit.”

Gilbert gave a polite nod, stepping out first and offering his hand to Diana. She accepted it, carefully descending the carriage step. The house loomed, smaller and more discolored than Rivenhall House, but no less dear to her heart.

She caught Gilbert’s brief glance at a shattered windowpane on an upper floor, swiftly turning his gaze away as though to spare her embarrassment.

Lord Crayford’s butler, a gray-haired man named Glover, ushered them into a parlor that bore signs of better days. Though neatly kept, the wallpaper had peeled in places and the furniture’s cushions were threadbare. A single thread of sunlight peeked in between heavy drapes, illuminating a modest arrangement of wildflowers that Diana guessed Alison must have placed.

“My lord will be with you shortly,” Glover said, bowing again. “Shall I bring some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Diana answered, forcing a gracious calm. “Thank you, Mr. Glover.”

They sat, Gilbert choosing a highbacked chair by the fireplace, as Diana perched on a settee that groaned under her weight. A hush stretched until distant footsteps heralded her father’s approach. Lord Crayford entered, leaning slightly on a cane. His gaze darted between Diana and Gilbert with equal parts of relief and apprehension.

“Diana.” He managed a faint smile in her direction. “And Your Grace, welcome to Crayford Manor. It has been too long.”

Diana rose and embraced her father briefly.

“Papa,” she said softly, searching his lined face. She could see the fatigue in his eyes and his sorrow at the house’s decline. “We are glad to be here.”

Lord Crayford turned to Gilbert. “Your Grace,” he began, his voice shaking slightly. “I hope your journey was not too great an inconvenience.”

Gilbert stood, offering a polite bow. “None at all, Lord Crayford. The roads were clear. We came to see how the estate fares, and to spend time with your family.”

Diana saw her father’s posture stiffen slightly, as though bracing against old shame. She remembered how fiercely proud he had been before his mounting debts forced him to accept Gilbert’s settlement.

He fears being seen as a charity case.

Her heart ached at the thought.

“How thoughtful,” Lord Crayford murmured, gesturing to the chairs. “Please, sit. I have asked that tea be made ready.”

Lord Crayford cleared his throat, stifling a hiccup. “Diana, I trust Rivenhall House suits you well? You…appear in good spirits.”

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