Page 5 of Taken By the Icy Duke

“This is not about your happiness,” he said. “It is about doing what is right. People will say that you did the honorable thing. It is about restoring what you have broken. You owe her that much at the very least.”

Leopold’s jaw tightened, and Gilbert noticed a flicker of genuine discomfort pass over his brother’s face. “Why should I be the one to sacrifice, Gilbert?” Leopold asked, his voice low. “Why must I be the one to bear the consequences? You have never married. Why should I?”

Gilbert felt a stab of guilt twist beneath his ribs. He had vowed never to marry, never to risk a family of his own, not after failing so utterly to protect the one he already had.

The memory rose like a cold specter, but he forced it down. He would not reveal that weakness to Leopold; he needed to be the unyielding guardian and embody the title he held. He had to remain steadfast. Gilbert converted his self-reproach into anger, letting it blaze for a single, savage heartbeat before reining it in again.

“Because I have not ruined anyone’s life in the process!” he roared, the rare explosion of fury startling them both. Leopold’s eyes widened. For a moment, guilt and regret tightened Gilbert’s chest. He despised raising his voice, hated showing how deeply he felt anything, because it reminded him how precarious his control was, and how easily he might fail again. He took a quick step back, inhaled slowly, then pulled himself back into the familiar mask of authority.

When he spoke again, each word was measured and low, honed to a sharp edge. “This is not about you, Leopold. This is about doing what is right. You have no choice in the matter. You will marry Miss Gillingham, or you will bring a degree of shame upon this family that cannot be undone.”

Silence fell. Gilbert stood rigid, concealing the swirl of old wounds and half-buried fears churning beneath his calm exterior. He refused to let that turmoil show. Leopold would see only a duke, unmovable in his demands; never the frightened boy who once failed to keep everyone safe.

Leopold sank back into the chair, running a hand through his hair. “I cannot believe this,” he muttered. “You would truly force me into this?”

“I would, and I am.” Gilbert’s tone left no room for argument. “And do not mistake my decision for cruelty. This is mercy—for her, for her family, and for you. You will learn to be a better man through this, Leopold. Perhaps for the first time in your life.”

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, the tension in the room becoming nearly unbearable. Finally, Leopold exhaled, his defiance fading into reluctant acceptance.

“As you wish,” he said, his voice flat. “What now? Shall I write her poetry? Buy her roses? How does one woo a woman he barely knows?”

“You will not be wooing her,” Gilbert said bluntly. “This is not a courtship; it is a reparation. Tomorrow, we will visit the Baron of Crayford. You will offer your proposal, and we will see this matter resolved.”

Leopold groaned once more. “Tomorrow? Could I at least have some time to recover from tonight’s ordeal?”

“Consider this part of your penance,” Gilbert replied curtly. He turned toward the door, pausing only briefly. “Clean yourself up, Leopold. We leave at first light.”

With that, Gilbert strode out of the room, leaving his brother to stew in his reluctant agreement. For a moment, he mused that although it was not the first time that he had cleaned up a scandal for his brother, he wondered if he might be fortunate enough this time that it could be the last. For the Duke of Rivenhall, there was no satisfaction in his victory, only the cold determination to see his family’s honor restored, no matter the cost.

Chapter Three

Diana’s heart hammered as her father held the letter at arm’s length and cleared his throat. He stood near the drawing room window, the morning sun casting thin shadows on the worn carpet. She stopped pacing and gripped the back of an old armchair, her breathing ragged from circling the same patch of floor.

“My Lord Gillingham, I have learned of last night’s events, and suggest that we address the matter at once. Miss Gillingham’s circumstances must not remain uncertain. My brother and I shall arrive by noon today,” her father’s voice quavered as he read.

Diana blinked hard, trying to chase away the dreadful pressure behind her eyes. One night had ruined her. Stepping away from the ballroom unchaperoned had given Leopold Ashwell the opening he had sought. Now she had only hours left before her fate became sealed by their visitors.

“Diana, if the Duke of Rivenhall takes such pains, he must intend for his brother to make amends,” Alison assured her in a hushed, steady voice.

Diana’s chest tightened. Leopold’s fumbling words, the distasteful reek of spirits, and her shock at being discovered in that narrow corridor hardly made him suitable husband material. However, if he did not marry her, she would be mercilessly scorned, ridiculed and cast from the ton. Her sister and father would be dealt a similar hand.

No, she had to marry this wretched man to ensure her family did not suffer for her careless mistake.

Diana was sure that by now her name had been whispered in every parlor across London. Lady Whittaker would make certain of it. If the duke and his brother failed to set things right, who would have her? Her family held debts that no one could ignore, and her dowry was laughable. She had no illusions. Without this marriage, she was worthless in the eyes of the ton.

“If they do not come, if they fail to offer a proper marriage…” she said, turning to her father, her voice barely above a whisper. She dared not finish the thought. She could beg some distant relation for help, perhaps, or find a lord who would overlook her tarnished name. The prospect left a bitter taste in her mouth, but Diana could think of no other choice.

“They promised to arrive by noon,” he said, glancing toward the door. He folded the letter and pressed his lips into a thin, tenseline. “Let us not make any hasty decisions until after they have stated their piece.”

The minutes dragged on without a sign of their carriage or the crunch of wheels on gravel. The mantel clock ticked away a quarter hour, then a half. The throbbing in Diana’s temples increased with each passing minute.

“Surely they are delayed.” Alison said, touching Diana’s arm lightly. Diana looked at the empty doorway and shook her head. Noon had long come and gone.

“Papa, if they do not appear, what then? I cannot linger like spoiled fruit. I must find a man who cares little for my reputation, so long as some arrangement can be made with haste.”

Her voice caught. The words rattled from her mouth like stones, each one weighing her down further. She imagined approaching a stranger, an older widower, perhaps, someone who might accept her if the price was right. While they had little money, the value of bearing heirs for a man of title or fortune could not be underestimated. The thought made her stomach roil.

“Do not speak of that, Diana,” he said quietly. Her father frowned, his eyes darting to a side table as if it might offer guidance. “We must grant them more time.”

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