Page 7 of Taken By the Icy Duke

The duke’s expression did not waver. He regarded them with an unyielding calm, his shoulders set like a fortress wall.

“I shall marry Miss Gillingham,” he said, each syllable clear and authoritative. “I will see to it that this matter is resolved properly.”

Diana stifled a gasp. She could hardly believe what she had just heard. Her father hiccupped again, clutching his handkerchief as if to steady himself. Her sister stared openly at the duke, her usual composure replaced by wide-eyed astonishment. Diana moved around the settee, her cheeks flushed with shock, while the Duke of Rivenhall’s declaration hung in the air like a drawn blade, both decisive and final.

“Miss Gillingham,” the duke began, addressing her directly,, “this arrangement will benefit everyone. We shall marry. Your dowry shall remain untouched. In return, I will provide Lord Crayford with a modest monthly allowance to mitigate any damage stemming from this unfortunate scandal.”

His words were an edict passed down from on high. Although his announcement was more than Diana could have hoped, she was aghast at his sudden proclamation, and his gross assumption regarding her acceptance.

“Your Grace,” she said, her voice trembling as she lifted her chin, “you speak as though I have already agreed to your proposal.”

Lord Crayford snapped his gaze to her, his expression torn between alarm and embarrassment. “Diana,” he said sharply, “you will not take such a tone with His Grace.”

“But Papa—” Diana began, only to be silenced by his curt gesture.

“Do you not understand the weight of what is being offered?” he continued, his voice heavy with frustration. “This is no time for pride or petulance. The duke is being more than generous in rectifying this matter.”

Diana’s stomach churned at her father’s words. Pride? Petulance? Before the duke arrived, she had offered to marry anyone who would have her. Surely her father could not believe her to be prideful at such a time. She bit her lip, glancing at Alison, who was watching her with an expression of quiet alarm. Her sister had always been the steadier of the two of them, but even she seemed unmoored by the strain in the room.

Alison leaned forward slightly, her voice hesitant. “Diana, perhaps you should?—”

“That is enough,” the duke interrupted, his voice cutting cleanly through the rising tide of tension. He swept his gaze over Lord Crayford and Alison, his tone firm but devoid of malice. “I must speak with Miss Gillingham privately.”

“Privately, Your Grace? Surely—” Diana’s father blinked in surprise.

“I understand it is unconventional,” the duke said, his expression unyielding. “But this is no ordinary matter. I assure you, it will be handled with all appropriate decorum.”

Lord Crayford hesitated, twisting his handkerchief in his hands before nodding reluctantly.

“Very well,” he said, though his tone made it clear that he was anything but pleased. “Alison, come.”

Alison cast a lingering glance at Diana, worry flickering in her eyes, but she obeyed her father without protest. Diana watched them leave, her chest tightening as the door closed behind them, leaving her alone with the Duke of Rivenhall.

The silence that followed was thick, his presence suddenly far more palpable without the buffer of her family. Diana straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, willing herself not to falter under his gaze. Except for the unfortunate incident with Lord Ashwell, she had never been alone in a room with a man who was not a family member. Diana sighed. She seemed to be moving from one scandalous situation to another. Her nerves tingled beneath the surface, putting her on edge as the duke’s dark eyes met hers.

The duke stood and walked to the fireplace; his eyes fixed on Diana as she approached. She took a step closer, feeling disadvantaged as he towered over her. He openly scrutinized her every movement, as if measuring her worth. Diana felt undone by his silent, focused gaze, his formidable presence, and his unreadable expression.

Diana broke the silence, her voice firmer than she had anticipated. She needed to assert herself, to be more than just a pawn in his game.

“You have dismissed my family, Your Grace. If we are to discuss this arrangement further, I would appreciate being addressed as an equal, not as a burden you have taken upon yourself. Although I am grateful for your offer, you speak as though my agreement is a foregone conclusion.”

His brow lifted slightly at her words, yet his expression remained inscrutable. His dark eyes continued to assess her, analyzing every twitch of her face and each movement of her body, exposing her innermost thoughts.

“You misunderstand me, Miss Gillingham. I am here to resolve this matter in a way that benefits us both,” he replied in a low voice.

“And yet,” she countered, narrowing her eyes, “it feels as if I am the only one expected to sacrifice. You speak of restoring honor and reputation, but you do not treat me as someone involved in the decision.”

“I speak as a man of action. I do not waste time on needless debate when lives hang in the balance. I will not stand by and watch as the Rivenhall reputation becomes tarnished,” he said simply.

“Is it not my life that is most at risk? Do you consider mine expendable?” she shot back, surprised by her own boldness.

The duke’s jaw tightened, his composure faltering. He closed the distance between them with a swift movement that made Diana take a half step back. Instinctively, she raised a hand to stop him, her palm pressing against the firm expanse of his chest.

The warmth of his body startled her, sending her heart racing. She struggled to hide the fear that surged within her at the realization that she had touched a man, a duke, without permission.

His gaze flicked down to her hand, and in an instant he grasped her wrist. His grip was firm but not cruel; his strength was undeniable. The feel of his bare fingers around her wrist set her pulse racing. “Miss Gillingham,” he said, his voice low and steady, “look at me.”

Diana’s breath hitched. For a moment she hesitated, then raised her eyes to meet his. The dark depths of his gaze held her captive, and the tension in the air thickened with each passing second.

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