Page 72 of Taken By the Icy Duke

Gilbert stepped down and strode toward the main entrance. A footman opened the door for him, offering a shallow bow. Gilbert acknowledged the gesture with minimal courtesy, too caught up in his thoughts to respond properly.

Inside, the foyer felt oddly still. Ordinarily, at this time of day, Gilbert would hear occasional servants bustling about, or the murmur of Diana’s voice as she gave instructions. Today, however, he heard only his own footsteps echoing on the polished floors.

He paused, glancing around. Something in the air felt amiss. There was no rustle of skirts from the corridor, and no subduedgreeting from Diana, who often awaited him with a polite inquiry or a faint smile.

Gilbert’s chest tightened.

“Timmons,” he said sharply, summoning the butler with a note of impatience. The faint patter of steps sounded from a side hallway.

Timmons approached, his posture impeccable, although faint apprehension showed in his eyes.

“Your Grace,” he said, inclining his head. “You have returned earlier than we anticipated.”

Gilbert stripped off his gloves and tapped them against his palm.

“Where is the duchess?” He scanned the foyer, half expecting her to appear from behind a pillar, but the silence persisted.

“Her Grace left for her father’s estate this morning, Your Grace,” Timmons explained, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

Gilbert went rigid and stared at the butler in utter disbelief.

“She left for Crayford Manor? Alone?” He forced the question through a tightening chest.

Timmons smoothed his jacket sleeves as though bracing for an onslaught.

“Yes, Your Grace. She departed soon after breakfast. She took only a small trunk and a maid, and Lord Leopold arranged a suitable carriage, ensuring no undue fuss.”

At the mention of Leopold’s involvement, Gilbert’s temper flared.

“Leopold arranged this,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Did she give no explanation?”

Timmons dipped his head with a wary expression.

“Her Grace mentioned a wish for rest in the country, citing her fatigue and the warm weather. She left a note for you, which I believe is on your desk in the study.”

Gilbert’s hand curled into a fist around his gloves.

“Very well,” he said curtly. “You may go about your duties.”

He did not wait for a response, pivoting on his heel and striding toward the study. Each step on the marble felt heavier than the last, and a pressure began to mount behind his eyes.

He reached the study door, noticing that it stood ajar. On his desk lay a folded sheet of paper. He snatched it up and recognized Diana’s neat, slanted handwriting at once.

Gilbert,

I have gone to Father’s estate. The house in town and London’s atmosphere have wearied me. I need time away, and I do not wish to burden you with my presence while you attend to your obligations. Please trust that I will be safe.

—Diana

He stared at the words as a wave of conflicting emotions—surprise, anger, worry—washed over him. She had not said how long she intended to remain or when she might return. She had chosen to leave without confronting him face-to-face.

He pressed the note against the desktop, his knuckles whitening around the paper’s edges. He could not imagine what would have driven her to leave London without him, not with all their efforts to demonstrate a united front.A surge of guilt and rage boiled within him.

He inhaled sharply, recalling Timmons’s mention of Leopold’s role in the matter. The betrayal stung. If Leopold had truly reformed, why abet her escape behind his back? Setting the note down, Gilbert strode from the study, his mind fixated on one aim—to find Leopold.

He navigated the corridors with swift, clipped strides, giving short nods to any servants who peered nervously from doorways. At the library, he paused, hearing low voices within, but it was only two maids sorting books. No sign of Leopold.

He continued onwards, eventually pushing open the door to a small sitting room near the back of the house. There he found Leopold at a small writing desk, scanning a ledger. At Gilbert’s entry, Leopold glanced up, saw the storm on his face, and stood with cautious composure.

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