Page 71 of Taken By the Icy Duke

She cast her eyes down, her fingers tightening on the settee’s edge.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I am not well. I never imaged it would take such a toll on me. And keeping the secret makes it no easier to bear the sickness.”

“You—Diana, you still have not told Gilbert?” he asked, his eyes widening.

She shook her head, fear tightening her throat.

“I cannot. He vowed never to father an heir, never to risk a family. He is so… adamant. I do not know how he would react, except with anger… or worse.”

“I knew he feared such things, but not to this extent. You must believe me when I say he is not cruel—merely haunted.” He hesitated, then added, “Did he provide you with any details about our accident?”

“I know only bits and pieces, that you and he lost your father and sister,” she replied, shaking her head. “Gilbert never speaks of it in depth.”

“Many years ago, we were traveling by carriage and met with disaster. I was much younger, and after our father died in that crash, Gilbert insisted on managing every aspect of our lives. The accident also claimed our little sister. We both survived, but I was left with a permanent limp. Gilbert felt responsible, as though he had failed to protect us all. He has carried that guilt with him ever since.”

Diana’s breath caught at the sorrowful tone in Leopold’s voice.

“I see,” she said, tears threatening. “That explains his protectiveness and his terror of… repeating tragedy.”

“Yes,” Leopold nodded. “He still fears he would fail a child, inasmuch as he believes he failed back then, and vowed never to father one. It is not that he lacks feeling; it is because he is consumed by the memory of that loss. I pray you understand that his harsh stance does not arise from indifference.”

“I had guessed he carried some deep pain,” she said, her voice quivering. “But hearing it from you confirms the depth of it. I wish I could reassure him, but he refuses even to discuss the notion of children.”

Leopold watched her wrestle with tears, then said gently, “Gilbert deserves to know. Perhaps this child will be the key to healing that old wound.”

“If he rejects the idea outright, it will break my heart. And I already feel so ill at times. Hiding this from him is… unbearable.”

He leaned closer and spoke sympathetically. “Then you must do whatever you believe is best for your own wellbeing,” he offered. “A short respite in the country might bring you peace until you find the courage to face him. You could visit your father’s estate, rest, and speak with your sister.”

She looked at him in silence for a moment, considering his suggestion.

“I have thought of that,” she admitted. “Though I had not decided. Now, I believe it may be the only course of action. I cannot stay here, day by day, feeling unwell and forever hiding.”

Leopold nodded and gave her a sad smile.

“I do not wish you to suffer on my brother’s account. I will not deny that I had a part in forcing this marriage upon you. If I can help you depart discreetly, I shall do so.”

“Thank you,” she said dejectedly. “I will make my preparations. I prefer to leave before Gilbert knows, lest he try to stop me. I do not want a confrontation.”

“Then I shall keep mum for a little while longer,” Leopold said, sitting back with a sigh.

“Thank you, again.” Her eyes glistened with gratitude. “I did not think I would ever confide something so grave to you, yet here we are. I fear I have no one else to trust in this moment.”

He lifted a hand in a small, earnest gesture. “I owe you a debt I can never repay,” he said. “If this is how I must atone, it is the least I can do. But take care—Gilbert will surely try to stop you if he suspects.”

“Then I must plan carefully,” she said. She pressed her lips together, her heart thudding. “I do not intend to remain away forever. Perhaps only until I feel calmer… safer.”

He stood, as if sensing that the conversation had reached its natural conclusion.

“Rest assured I will keep your secret, and I will help however you need,” he said. “Pray you find some peace at your father’s estate.”

She inclined her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Leopold,” she said softly. “You have been kinder than I ever expected.”

He offered a faint smile, then departed from the library, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her heart still pounded nervously but she felt a shred of relief. She had unburdened herself to someone and devised a makeshift plan. She would leave Rivenhall House and slip away to her father’s domain before Gilbert could stop her.

Chapter Thirty

Gilbert breathed a strained sigh of relief when the carriage finally rounded the last bend and the gates of Rivenhall House came into view. He had spent the day taking meetings and was relieved to return home. A stable hand hurried to the horses as soon as they halted.

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