Page 55 of Taken By the Icy Duke

Then, with a slight bow, he excused himself, presumably to see to letters or accounts. Diana watched him depart, inwardly marveling at how that brief stroll had brightened her spirits. If someone had told her a month ago that she would find solace in his company—a man with whom she had once exchanged only formal pleasantries—she would have smiled politely and dismissed the idea. Yet here she was, living it.

Gilbert found Diana in the drawing room late in the afternoon, seated near the window with a book open on her lap. She glanced up as he approached, a slow smile forming on her lips.

“I did not expect you at this hour,” she teased softly, setting the book aside.

He removed his gloves and placed them on a nearby table, then turned to her. “I finished with my steward earlier thananticipated,” he said, his voice light. “I thought I might find you here. I trust that I am not intruding.”

“You cannot intrude in your own home, Gilbert. In fact, I am pleased you sought me out.” She shook her head with a small laugh.

He drew closer, settling into the chair across from her. In the quiet of the late day, the only sound was the distant clink of dinner preparations in the kitchens.

“I feel as though I spend more time in your company as of late,” he remarked in a tone that hovered between wonder and satisfaction. “And yet I find myself wanting more.”

A hint of color touched her cheeks. “Is that so unusual?” she asked gently.

Gilbert smiled at her open question. “Not unusual for others, perhaps,” he admitted, “but I did not imagine I would ever be… comfortable like this. I was convinced I would remain fixed in my old ways, yet here I am, telling you how content I have grown.”

Diana leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table.

“I am glad to hear it,” she said earnestly. “Truly, I am. I never wanted our life together to be purely formal.”

He studied her for a moment, noting how the evening light made her eyes glow.

“I thoughtIdid,” he said quietly. “As such, I never considered anything else to be possible. That was my failing, not yours.”

Gilbert settled back, observing the way Diana’s bright smile lit her face. He had once dreaded marriage and all its inherent complications, but he now found himself strangely at ease in her presence, and eager for more of these unhurried moments. The realization startled him—he had never expected to find comfort, let alone joy, in domesticity. Yet every time she smiled at him like that, he felt an unfamiliar happiness spreading through him.

Before she could reply, the butler materialized at the threshold, bowing smoothly.

“Your Graces, dinner will be served shortly. Shall I escort you to the smaller dining room?”

Gilbert nodded, exchanging a quick look with Diana. She gathered her book and set it aside, then rose with an eager kind of anticipation. As they followed Timmons out, Gilbert caught Diana’s arm.

“You recall we wished for a simpler meal tonight. Let us hope the staff has not gone to undue trouble.”

She laughed under her breath. “Even when we request something modest, they seem determined to impress.”

He dipped his head in wry agreement as they entered the smaller dining room. A single table stood in its center, set with a white cloth and modest silverware. An unadorned vase of fresh daisies lent a cheerful note, and the staff had placed two chairs so closely together that Diana felt an undeniable air of intimacy.

Gilbert helped her to her seat, and when he took his own he found himself surprisingly eager for their casual meal. After the soup was served he tested a spoonful, then glanced at Diana.

“The stew last night was good, but this soup… perhaps they are taking pains to show they can do more with less,” he observed, delighted with its robust flavors and texture.

She sipped from her own bowl, her smile spreading.

“It is delicious, I must agree. Though I worry Mrs. Bradshaw will accuse us of spoiling the cooks for anything grander.”

They exchanged stories of the day—he mentioned a colt that had finally let the stable boy guide him without fuss; she told him about the flowers in the conservatory that might be used for a new arrangement in the drawing room. The conversation turned to small, amusing anecdotes about the staff. Gilbert brought up a footman’s attempt to repair a rickety cupboard, only for it to jam permanently.

“Perhaps I should burn the thing,” he joked, letting out a soft laugh at her mock-horrified face.

“That would cause an uproar,” she answered, giggling. “You might be forced to purchase new cupboards all around.”

Her laughter warmed him from within, and he took a moment to savor it, realizing how much he enjoyed the sound. They moved on to the main course—a simple roast chicken and vegetables—and Diana recounted a note from an acquaintance praising the new gardens. Gilbert listened with quiet contentment, thinking how natural it felt to share these trivial details with her.

By the time the dessert arrived, a delicate custard, he found himself reluctant for the evening to end. He set down his spoon, meeting Diana’s eyes.

“I must thank you for agreeing to this informal approach. I have discovered I much prefer smaller moments like this… just the two of us.”

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