Page 48 of Taken By the Icy Duke

“Every small gesture helps dispel their talk of you lacking refinement or means. It shows we are active, not pawns of scandal.” He hesitated, then quietly added, “and you wore that crown well tonight. It is more than mere finery, it is you declaring your rightful place.”

She blushed at his praise, her voice hushed. “Thank you… for doing this with me. For letting me be part of it.”

“I should be the one thankingyou,” he said softly. He studied her a moment, his brows furrowing with a sincerity that made her heart skip. “This entire evening felt… different because you took the lead. I only followed.”

Her heart fluttered at the humility in his tone, the rare warmth shining through the aloof facade. She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his in a fleeting gesture. The hum of the party continued just a few steps away, but in that pause they seemed cocooned from the world. They had come far from the stiff distrust of their earlier marriage days.

The hour grew late. One by one, guests approached Lady Bembridge to offer their congratulations and take leave. At last, it was Diana and Gilbert’s turn. Their hostess beamed at them with immense satisfaction.

“Your Graces, you have outdone yourselves,” she said, her voice carrying enough volume for lingering onlookers to overhear. “It delights me to see the Duke and Duchess of Rivenhall as one of our city’s philanthropic pillars.”

“We are grateful for the invitation,” Diana said, returning a warm smile. “We are pleased that everyone here supported such a worthy cause.”

With that, Lady Bembridge’s footman escorted them to the foyer. Several other guests who had once eyed Diana with suspicion now bowed or offered polite nods. One or two even ventured compliments.

“Well played, Duchess,” and “Lovely cameo, Your Grace.” The subtle acceptance in their voices hinted that the rumors, if not gone, had lost much of their sting.

Gilbert let Diana slip her hand onto his arm. The footman opened the townhouse door, revealing a sweep of lamplit street. A mild summer breeze brushed Diana’s cheeks as they stepped outside. Her shoulders finally relaxed as she dropped the burden of their public show.

They climbed into their carriage, the footman closing the door behind them. For a moment neither spoke, lulled by the rhythmic rumble of wheels over cobblestones. Eventually, Gilbert shifted closer, the dark interior throwing his face into silhouette.

“That was…” he paused, as though searching for the right word. “Surprisingly painless, considering how many barbs we faced.”

Diana let out a small, breathy laugh. “Yes, well, I suppose each event makes the next one easier.” She traced her fingertips over the cameo lying in her lap, recalling how it had felt to stand firm under sly stares.

He watched her in the dim glow of the carriage lantern. “If rumors persist we will continue to face them together,” he said simply. Then, before she could reply, he leaned back, seeming to study the skyline through the window.

“I am proud of you,” he added offhandedly, as though admitting it too directly would be risky.

A gentle warmth blossomed in Diana’s chest.

“Thank you… Gilbert,” she murmured. “You made me feel secure—like I could handle anything they had to say.”

He offered a faint nod, half turning his face. She could see his smile, even if the shadows partially disguised it. The carriage rattled onward through London’s quiet lanes, returning them to the safe haven of Rivenhall House.

Chapter Twenty-One

Diana nearly dropped the stack of letters when she spotted Gilbert standing at the far end of the corridor.

She had woken early to attend to correspondence and finalize some small household matters, never expecting to find him at home in the middle of the day. She stood still for a moment, her heart racing as she watched him, so tall and composed, glancing over a ledger with an air of unhurried calm.

She gathered herself with a steadying breath. He rarely waited for her like this, and was usually out handling estate matters or caught up in the demands of his position.

“Good morning,” she managed, stepping closer, waiting in anticipation to hear if anything was amiss.

Gilbert’s head rose, and a tender light entered his gaze. “Good morning,” he replied. “I was not sure where you had gone.”

“I was in the library, answering the day’s letters,” she explained. “But you… you are home earlier than usual. Is everything all right?”

He closed the ledger with a neat snap.

“Exceedingly, actually.” A slight, teasing smile tugged at his lips. “I realized I had some unfinished business, a certain debt I owe.”

“A debt?” she asked, her eyebrows rising, confusion sparking in her eyes.

“To my savior, as it were,” he teased, stepping closer, a mischievous look on his face.

“Savior?” she repeated, a faint blush creeping to her cheeks as she recalled the events with Josephine. “I only intervened?—”

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