Page 9 of Taken By the Icy Duke

“I heard the rumors and wondered if they might be true,” she continued, refusing to let him walk away. Her eyes came to rest on the paper in his hand. “I assumed the ton had it wrong, that your brother would be marrying a silly chit. But I have since heard that he has left town and here you are, marriage license in hand.”

“I see no need to explain further then,” Gilbert said, facing her with a roll of his eyes. “If there is nothing else, my lady…”

“Do you truly intend to give it all up?” Her gaze dropped pointedly, leaving no doubt in Gilbert’s mind that she meant their liaison. “This soon-to-be duchess of yours—so young, inexperienced, and likely skittish. You may find…fulfillment lacking.”

The innuendo slid between them like a thin blade. Gilbert narrowed his eyes. He could sense her attempt to unnerve him, to remind him of the comfort he had once found with her, a comfort without the entanglements of marriage or duty. The parchment in his hand crackled as he tightened his grip.

“No,” he said, his voice flat. One word, inflexible and final. “Our arrangement ends here, Josephine.”

She paused at that, lashes lowering. Just a trace of acknowledgement, but enough. He had denied her before, butnever with such complete finality. However, she recovered quickly; her next smile was a polished shell.

“Is that so?” She took a step forward, as if testing the space between them. “I never thought you a man to deny himself. If your brother’s folly forces your hand, I would think you would keep at least one avenue of pleasure open.”

Gilbert leaned a fraction closer, letting the cool edge in his eyes counter her honeyed words. The street behind him remained quiet, with only a clerk passing by and a distant hackney rattling along. No one paid them heed, and he intended to keep it that way. “I will not dishonor my future wife,” he said, his voice low and steady. “And I have no desire to continue this…understanding.”

For a brief moment the real Josephine emerged. Her polite facade cracked and a taut silence stretched between them. She took a small step back, releasing the invisible hold she believed she had on him. He could see her mind working, searching for a final barb. Instead, she inclined her head in a graceful though stiff acknowledgment. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

He exhaled slowly, then straightened. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left her standing there. The sound of his boots striking the cobblestones marked the end of that chapter. Once, her company had provided him respite from duty and expectation. Now, he had no time or desire for such entanglements, especially with a woman who would not yield to decorum.

Their relationship was finished, and Josephine could find other amusements to fill her days. He had neither the time nor the desire for complicated women or memories, not when a future awaited him, ready to be to be shaped.

The special license burned between his fingertips, reminding him of the woman who refused to be molded and the fact that she would soon be his wife, living under his roof, and sleeping just one door away.

Gilbert swept into his residence and strode directly to his study, ignoring the gentle inquiries of the butler and the curious glance of a passing maid. He closed the door quietly behind him, pausing for a moment against the polished oak panels. The room felt still, save for the muted crackle of fresh coal in the hearth. He preferred silence and order, yet his thoughts were anything but orderly.

With a sudden urge to conceal the license, he lifted the lid of a small, sturdy coffer and placed the parchment inside before locking it with deliberate care. He stood there a moment, tapping the key ring against his palm. The arrangement was sealed. He would marry Diana Gillingham.

A knock sounded. Gilbert straightened, settling his face into neutral lines. “Enter,” he barked.

Victor stepped inside, closing the door with discreet finality. His best friend dressed much more foppishly than Gilbert, expressive in both his clothing and his thoughts.

“Rivenhall,” he said, a note of welcome in his voice. “Your butler seemed surprised to find me calling this early, but I thought it best to come straightaway.”

“You are always welcome, Camburn,” Gilbert replied, indicating to a chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Victor settled into a leather armchair near the hearth, comfortable from his frequent visits to Rivenhall Manor. “I saw your carriage not an hour ago by Doctors’ Commons. A special license, Rivenhall?” He arched a brow, his tone light but curious. “My God, you are a man of decisive action.”

Gilbert lowered himself behind his desk, choosing to busy his hands with a stack of correspondence: letters from tenants seeking clarification on leases, a note from his steward regarding a new drainage project, and an inquiry about an overdue shipment of tools. Mundane matters that should, under normal circumstances, provide a calming counterpoint to the complexities of his life, barely dulled the edge of his thoughts that morning.

He picked up a letter, then set it down again. “The situation demanded expedience.”

Victor observed him with narrowed eyes. “You thought this was the best way to resolve the issue?”

Gilbert’s jaw tightened. He leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk. “What else would you have me do? My brother ruined a poor woman; I could not just leave it.”

Victor shrugged. “You could have announced an engagement between the two and waited until he was found. The ton would understand a delay, given Leopold’s… proclivities.”

“Have you any word of him? Any whisper at all?” Gilbert asked, rubbing his face with his hand and ignoring Victor’s suggestion.

Victor sobered, adjusting his cuff. “None. He has covered his tracks well. I have asked discreet questions among our acquaintances. No one claims to have seen him.”

Gilbert pressed his lips together. He had thought as much, but it still rankled to hear his suspicions confirmed. As he reached for another letter, he caught himself recalling Diana’s face instead: the set of her shoulders, the way she refused to let him bully her. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for looking into it.”

Victor noticed the tension and leaned forward, his voice low. “This lady, Miss Gillingham, how much of a burden is it for you to be doing your duty, so to say?”

Gilbert turned in his chair, glancing toward the window before returning his gaze to Victor. Duty. Yes, it was his duty. Necessity. But her image lingered in his mind. He could still feel the flash of stubborn heat in her gaze, and hear the strength in her voice. He forced a smooth answer.

“My brother’s recklessness leaves me no choice. I will not let the Gillingham name be dragged through the mud because of Leopold’s folly.”

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