Page 25 of Taken By the Icy Duke

The emerald hue seemed to glow with its own light, as if daring her to step into the role of duchess with all the confidence the title demanded. But was she ready for such a transformation? And what did it mean that Gilbert had chosen this for her? Was it an olive branch or a calculated gesture to bolster their public image?

Exhaling softly, she set the note aside, her heart thudding in a rhythm that was both elated and uneasy.

He chose this for me. He thought of my eyes when he did so.

She pressed her palm to the bodice, feeling the faint texture of the embroidered leaves, wondering if Gilbert had ordered ithimself or entrusted the task to a famed modiste. Either way, the attention to detail raised her spirits to a level of cautious hope.

“My lady?” A quiet voice at the door startled her, and she whirled around to see Ruth standing before her with a respectful bow of the head.

“Yes,” Diana said, clearing her throat. She turned her gaze back to the gown, smoothing one sleeve gently. “Ruth, would you please have a bath drawn? I should like to refresh myself before this evening’s plans.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Ruth turned her head to admire the emerald gown, and a small smile played on her lips. “Shall I help you dress once you have finished bathing?”

Diana nodded, pressing the note to her side to hide her embarrassment. “Yes…yes, please. And—thank you, Ruth.”

With that, Ruth curtsied and departed. Diana stood there for a moment longer, her hand resting lightly on the gown’s shimmering cloth. She could picture Gilbert somewhere in the house, perhaps in his study with ledgers or discussing invitations with his secretary, yet he had taken the time to see to her wardrobe.

The gesture felt unexpectedly intimate. She let out a slow breath, telling herself not to read too much into it. They were to appear at a ball tonight, the first of many events aimed at reassuring society that their marriage was sound and amicable

With that thought, Diana drew herself up, remembering the vow she had made: to keep her head held high, and to unflinchingly face whatever issues might arise. This gown, she knew, would be her armor, and the man who had selected it, her unexpected ally.

Later that evening, the carriage jostled along the cobblestone streets, its lanterns casting warm pools of light against the night sky. Sitting opposite Gilbert, Diana could feel every bump of the journey. Her stomach fluttered with nerves. She tried to focus on the familiar scenes passing by the window; elegant townhouses and lamplit doorways, rather than the man studying her from across the carriage.

She wore the emerald gown he had gifted her. The rich color seemed to glow in the soft interior light, the filigree on the bodice emitting flashes of gold whenever she moved. She hoped it looked as fine as it felt. Her heart gave a small, fast beat when she caught Gilbert’s gaze settling on her bodice, only for him to swiftly look away.

“You appear quite composed this evening,” he remarked at last, though his voice came out more hushed than usual. She wondered if he detected the rapid tempo of her pulse.

“Your note gave me sufficient warning,” she replied, careful to keep her tone even. “I appreciate the kindness you have shown by sending this gown.”

It is only proper you be attired as befits your station.” He paused, clearing his throat. His hand, resting on his knee, curled ever so slightly. “It seems as though I was correct that the green would suit you.”

Diana attempted a modest smile, determined not to betray how much his words warmed her. She shifted on the seat, one hand gliding over the silk of her skirt. The carriage lurched, causing her to grip the window frame for balance. The flicker of passing lamps illuminated Gilbert’s strained profile, causing Diana to wonder what he was withholding.

He kept glancing at her, then glancing away, as though reluctant to let his gaze linger. Once, she thought she saw him swallow hard, his jaw stiffening each time he dared to look her way. A small part of her thrilled at the realization that he might find her alluring tonight. Another part of her cautioned not to read too much into his fleeting glances.

Nevertheless, it was impossible not to recall the taste of his earlier kisses. The memory made her heart skip a beat, and she fought to control herself. Tonight was about showing the ton that they were united, and perhaps, if fortune favored them, they might also discover a deeper bond than mere appearances.

The carriage slowed, and Gilbert leaned forward to peer out the window with a momentary glimmer of eagerness.

“We have arrived,” he announced, his tone once again brisk. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I shall ever be,” she breathed.

He exited first, then offered his hand to help her alight. The instant her gloved fingers slipped into his, a subtle charge of awareness sparked between them. She glanced up to find him watching her intently with an unreadable gleam in his eyes.

The glow of lanterns bathed the grand entrance in warm light, casting elongated shadows across the cobblestones. Diana stepped down from the carriage with the assistance of Gilbert’s steadying hand, their contact sending an unexpected shiver through her.

The murmurs of nearby guests reached her ears; a symphony of curiosity and speculation that seemed to grow louder with every step they took toward the brightly lit doorway. Diana forced herself to stand tall and lift her head as they passed beneath the ornate arch of the Bembridge estate.

Together, they walked into the blaze of lanterns and the hum of lively chatter, Diana’s skirts trailing in a graceful swish of emerald silk. She felt all eyes turn toward them, widening at the sight of the couple entering the foyer hand in hand. Aware of how closely they were being watched, Diana ignored the crowd and stared ahead, focusing instead upon greeting their host and hostess.

As they neared the entrance, the hum of conversation softened, replaced by the low murmur of curiosity. Lord and Lady Bembridge stood beneath an arch of roses, the delicate fragrance mingling with the crisp evening air.

“Your Graces,” Lady Bembridge greeted warmly. Her gaze rested briefly on Diana before returning to Gilbert. “We are honored by your presence this evening.”

“The honor is ours,” Gilbert replied smoothly, offering a polite bow. He extended a hand toward Diana, a subtle cue for her to step forward.

“Lord and Lady Bembridge, your estate is magnificent,” she said, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest. Diana dipped into a curtsy, her emerald skirts pooling gracefully around her. As she rose, she added, “the rose arch is especially beautiful.”

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