Page 63 of Taken By the Icy Duke

Once inside Diana’s bedchamber, Ruth set the linens aside, turning to her mistress with genuine concern.

“Is everything all right, my lady?” she asked gently.

Diana walked to the window, gazing at the modest view of the courtyard below, where a groom led a horse across the gravel.

“Leopold is settling in more comfortably than I anticipated,” she said in a muted tone. “He, Gilbert and Lord Camburn were laughing together just now. I cannot blame them, they are all close still. And I…” She pressed her fingertips to her temple. “I just cannot say I feel at ease with him here.”

“I see,” Ruth agreed politely. “You must still carry memories of the scandal, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Diana nodded slowly. “He has apologized, and seems genuinely remorseful. But I simply cannot banish the hurt. And I cannot help wondering if his presence is straining everything between me and Gilbert.”

“His Grace is a fair man,” Ruth reminded her. “He protects you, does he not? He would not let Lord Leopold bring new troubles.”

A small, pained laugh escaped Diana. “Perhaps. But I know I am not ready to forgive him. Thank you, Ruth.” She forced a steadier tone. “I think I just need to gather my thoughts, and perhaps rest a while.”

Ruth dipped a quick curtsy. “Let me help you dress, then I shall leave you to rest.”

Diana exhaled, letting her resentment furl and unfurl in her chest. Her mind spun with visions of Leopold’s integration, Gilbert’s courtesy, and her own uncertainty. Even Victor’s presence—a figure of easy camaraderie—could not dissolve her discomfort.

Pressing her palms against the smooth wood, she whispered more to herself than Ruth, “I will not be shut out of my own home.”

Ruth reached into Diana’s wardrobe but stalled for a moment before asking, “The lilac gown, then?”

“Yes,” Diana said assuredly. The conviction in her voice steadied her. She might feel unsettled, but she refused to vanish into meek silence each time Leopold disrupted her day. The vow provided her with a small measure of strength.

Once dressed she ventured downstairs, determined not to hide away. As she drew closer to the drawing room, the conversation became clearer, and she thought she heard Victor mention her name.

“…my advice did seem to work, it appears,” Victor said.

“What do you mean?” Diana heard Gilbert ask.

“Your duchess has very much come into her own with her wardrobe. She is the talk of the ton with her impeccable fashion sense,” Victor continued.

Diana paused before she reached the open door, obscured by the corner of the frame. A footman passed her and she gave him a signal not to betray her presence.

“It is true,” Leopold added. “I have heard in countless circles of Lady Diana’s improvement. Many men at White’s are perhaps even grumbling how their ladies are begging for the same generosity you have bestowed upon her.”

“It is no less than I should be doing,” Gilbert mused.

Diana peered around the edge of the door to get a glimpse of the men’s expressions, but she only caught a view of Gilbert’s back.

“Yes, but the state of her clothes before were barely fitting a baron’s daughter, let alone a duchess,” Victor argued. “You have definitely attired her according to her station.”

“She did look quite fetching in her outfit today,” Leopold noted politely, almost reserved in his compliment.

“Come now, you must have noticed how much she improved,” Victor said to Gilbert, his voice impatient. “It certainly helped to quell some of the scathing gossip about her.”

“Do not speak of my wife so,” Gilbert warned.

Diana leaned back against the wall as reality sunk in. Gilbert had been showering her with gifts, or so she thought. Now, she realized those gifts were not tokens of affection, but rather necessary replacements to her wardrobe. Her chest tightened as her world view suddenly shifted. She had thought Gilbert was being kind, generous and doting, but in reality he had taken advice from Victor, as they had all found her lacking.

Tears welled in her eyes. She could not join them now, not after overhearing this revelation. Turning back toward the stairs, she headed up to her room again, shame and embarrassmentgripping hold of her. Just as she reached her chamber doors, the tears began to stream down her face.

Thankfully, Ruth had already left. Diana fell onto her bed, sobbing into her pillows. She felt foolish, wondering why overhearing the conversation troubled her so. Of course, her marriage to Gilbert was just an arrangement, it always had been. She had been a fool to let herself believe that Gilbert was gaining affection for her. He only wanted to show a united front to the ton by having her dress as any duchess would.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Diana stared at her reflection in the mirror while Ruth pinned the final curl into place. Under the glow of the dressing room lamp, she looked every inch a duchess in a pale green silk gown embroidered with subtle silver thread at the bodice, her features composed to hide the gnawing anxiety that lay beneath.

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