Page 32 of Taken By the Icy Duke

Her gaze fell to the faintly indented pillow where his head had rested hours before. She closed her eyes briefly, the hazy memory of their quiet journey from the drawing room to her chambers slipping into focus.

After the fire in the drawing room had burned low, they had lingered, hesitant to allow the moment between them to end. Gilbert had reached for her hand, his grip tentative.

“Shall I see you to your room?” he had asked softly.

“Yes,” Diana had replied, her own voice barely above a whisper.

The corridors had been dim, and their footsteps were muffled by the thick carpets. When they reached her door, she had hesitated, her fingers brushing the latch. For a moment, she had been unsure whether to invite him inside or bid him goodnight. But Gilbert, as though sensing her uncertainty, had leaned close, his breath warm against her temple.

“If you wish it, Diana,” he had murmured.

Her response had been a simple nod, and she had stepped aside to let him in. The quiet intimacy that followed—how he had held her as they slipped beneath the covers, his arm drawing her close, and their bodies fitting together as if it were the most natural thing in the world—had surprised her with its ease. They had fallen asleep that way, the warmth of his breath against her hair lulling her into a peace she had not thought possible.

As she slipped from beneath the covers and drew on her robe, she smiled to herself as she replayed the nostalgic moment. She crossed over to the window, gazing down onto the empty street below. Rivenhall House remained quiet in the early hours, and only the faint clatter of a distant milk cart met her ears. And yet, the disappointment she felt lingered over her like a cloud.

A soft knock at the door drew her attention. Ruth entered with a polite curtsy, a parcel balanced carefully in her hands.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” the maid greeted. “A parcel has just arrived for you along with a note from His Grace.”

“Thank you, Ruth,” she replied, accepting the neatly sealed envelope and the sizable wrapped bundle. She waited until Ruth stepped back before untying the ribbon. Inside, she found a rich, dark-blue evening gown, the sumptuous fabric gleaming in the early light. Slipping her fingers over the layers, Diana marveled at the embroidery tracing its neckline and sleeves; subtle, refined, and undeniably elegant.

Her gaze then dropped to the letter. Gilbert’s strong script stood out in bold relief:

My dear Diana,

Forgive my early departure—estate matters demanded my attention.

I have arranged for you to visit Madame Beaulieu at midday to discuss your broader wardrobe needs.

This gown, however, is for tonight.

I shall be honored to escort you to the theatre at eight.

—G

A soft smile lit up her eyes. She carefully re-folded the note, pressing it to her chest as she savored the dual pangs of relief and anticipation. The memory of the previous night’s intimacy continued to flicker through her thoughts, warming her cheeks.

“Shall I bring the hip bath now, Your Grace?” Ruth asked gently, drawing Diana’s attention back to the present. The maid’s discreet glance took in the gown with quiet approval.

“Yes, please,” Diana replied, setting the bundle aside. “Then, if you would, help me prepare a response to His Grace. He should know I received his generous gift.”

Ruth curtsied once more. “Of course, Your Grace.”

When she departed, Diana picked up the evening gown, letting the smooth fabric slide through her fingers. She imagined how it would catch the lamplight in the theatre box, how she might look, seated beside Gilbert for all to see. The notion both thrilled and unsettled her. It was, after all, part of their plan: to present the Duke and Duchess of Rivenhall in all the confidence and unity their station demanded. However, a part of her hoped the evening would be more than a mere show for the ton.

Her reflection in the looking glass revealed a faint flush on her cheeks. She recalled the gentleness of Gilbert’s touch and the hushed intensity of his voice when he spoke her name. The possibility that he might be as attentive tonight, in public as well as in private, made her heart flutter a little faster.

She carefully draped the gown over a nearby chair. Then, noticing a smaller velvet box tucked amongst the tissue, she opened it to discover a pair of dazzling sapphire earrings and a matching pendant; simple yet unmistakably regal.

He thinks of every detail.

Between the dress, the jewels, and her upcoming visit to Madame Beaulieu, Gilbert was evidently determined to ensure she looked every bit the Duchess of Rivenhall.

Moments later, another knock sounded. Ruth reappeared, this time with a slightly flustered expression.

“Your Grace. Lady Alison has called upon you. She insists it is urgent.”

Diana’s brows rose in a mixture of curiosity and surprise. “So early? Very well, show her in. It would not be the first time my sister and I readied ourselves in the morning.”

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