The Duke of Ice

by Burke, Darcy

  Hannah, always full of nervous energy, paced before the hearth. “Yes, and I’m so anxious. This is either going to be the most successful house party ever or the biggest disaster.” She paused to look at Violet. “Either way, it will be the most talked about.”

  “That is your goal, is it not?” Violet loved her friend dearly but had never understood her need to be recognized among the leaders of Society.

  “It’s all I have,” she said. “I haven’t a title like you.”

  Violet had married a viscount, but she would’ve gladly traded the lady preceding her name for true happiness such as Hannah had with her husband, Irving. They had two small children and were the epitome of what Violet had once wanted. What had once been in her grasp.

  “I’d give it to you, if I could,” Violet said.

  Hannah exhaled, her lips curving into a warm smile. “I know you would, dear.”

  Violet smoothed her hands over her skirt. “Now, what do you need me to do? Will Lady Dunn be here?”

  Sometimes Hannah asked her to pay particular attention to certain guests, to ensure they were content and to let Hannah know if anything was amiss. Lady Dunn was one such guest. She was a charming old biddy, given to gossip, but thankfully none of the more salacious kind.

  “She will not,” Hannah said. “Which is unfortunate because I anticipate that rumors will run amok, and she is quite good at keeping things from escalating.”

  “That is true.” For all that she liked to gossip, the elderly viscountess was adept at putting things in perspective. “Is there anyone else I should pay attention to?”

  Hannah floated to the settee and sat down beside Violet, like a hummingbird taking a brief but necessary respite. Her eyes fairly glowed with anticipation. “I’m particularly anxious about this party because two Untouchables will be here.”

  Untouchables…noblemen who were seen as particularly difficult to snare on the Marriage Mart, or so Violet thought based on what she’d heard. Details like this always failed to sufficiently root in her memory. “That’s well done of you.”

  “Oh, these are not the ordinary Untouchables. These are dukes that literally no one dares touch—at least not socially.”

  Violet had no idea who they could be. She was the opposite of Lady Dunn—she detested gossip and typically put it from her mind the moment she heard it. This was why she wasn’t entirely certain about what an Untouchable might be, particularly ones that weren’t ordinary. “If no one dares to include them socially, why ever are you?”

  “Because it will be the on-dit of the season! The Duke of Ice never attends social gatherings, though he is occasionally invited.” Hannah tipped her head to the side. “I suppose it’s unfair to say that no one dares to touch him. They simply aren’t successful. And he’s apparently quite haughty. He has no time for parties such as this, or so the rumors go.”

  “And yet he’s coming here?”

  Hannah lifted her hand to her mouth as a giggle escaped. “I’m afraid I manipulated his attendance by inviting the Duke of Ruin. Now he isn’t invited anywhere, but he and Ice are friends. Furthermore, unlike Ice, Ruin actually accepts the paltry few invitations he receives. I invited him on the condition that he bring Ice along.”

  “You didn’t.” Violet pursed her lips. She loved her friend very much, but such machinations flirted with boorishness.

  “I’m afraid I did.” A look of contrition flashed in Hannah’s eyes. She quickly rose and started pacing once more, the lull over. “It will all work out marvelously. You’ll see.”

  “What is it you wish me to do?” For the first time, Violet considered refusing her friend’s request. She wanted no part in any scheme that might bring unwanted notoriety to these…Untouchables.

  “Nothing much, really. Just watch for people’s reactions and keep your ears open. To have the Duke of Ice here will surely recommend me. And if he is charming and enjoys himself? Well, that could send me into the upper echelon.” Hannah’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

  Violet knew how much it meant to her friend to find a place among Society’s elite, even if it didn’t matter at all to her. “Of course. You know I shall always have your best interests at heart—even when you sometimes don’t.” Hannah could get carried away, and in those instances she never failed to thank Violet for being a voice of reason. “So I’m to watch over the Untouchables and report any gossip to you?”

  “Yes.” Hannah paused long enough to bestow a look of love on her friend. “Thank you.”

  The butler came in to announce that guests were beginning to arrive. Color warmed Hannah’s face, and she clasped her hands together. “I’ll fetch Irving. Here we go!” She grinned at Violet before turning and fluttering from the drawing room.

  A maid came and cleared away the tea tray. Violet stood and shook the wrinkles from her gown. She went to the windows and looked out at the gray sky. There would be rain; it was simply a question of when the heavens decided to unleash the torrent.

  Over the next few hours, Violet greeted guests, many of whom she’d met on prior occasions. She braced herself when Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law arrived together. They were two of the most formidable women in Society. Hannah invited them for precisely that reason, of course. It was a risk, but if they stamped their approval on this house party, Hannah would likely be invited everywhere.

  For that reason alone, Violet affixed a warm smile on her face and heartily welcomed the two women.

  Mrs. Law was a few years older than Lady Nixon, with dark hair liberally streaked with gray and sharp, piercing brown eyes. “Lady Pendleton, how lovely to see you here, but then you always attend Mrs. Linford’s parties, do you not?”

  “Indeed I do. We’ve been friends for some time.” They’d met as newlyweds in London for the Season nearly seven and a half years ago. It had been the first time in London for both of them, and they’d banded together.

  Lady Nixon was tall with tawny hair and pale blue eyes. When she looked at you, one had the sense she could see every secret you possessed. She couldn’t of course, but Violet knew she’d try to learn them. She never failed to put Violet on her guard. “Mrs. Linford says the Duke of Ice will be here. I will believe that when he presents himself.” She exchanged a look of doubt with Mrs. Law.

  Oh dear. Violet hoped for Hannah’s sake that this duke showed up. If he didn’t, Violet might have to hunt him down and cause him bodily harm.

  Violet forced herself to continue smiling at the women. “Would you care for refreshment?” She gestured toward a sideboard where food and drink had been laid out for the guests as they arrived.

  “Oh, maybe just a cake. Or two.” Mrs. Law laughed softly as she made her way toward the refreshments. Once there, she took three cakes.

  Violet greeted more guests, and while a few went upstairs to rest, most remained in the drawing room, and by late afternoon, there was an air of expectation. Of anticipation.

  Violet caught Hannah’s distressed eye and excused herself from Lady Colton and her daughter. Hannah met her near the doorway.

  “Irving says the men want to leave,” Hannah whispered urgently.

  “I know. I can sense their impatience. Why delay?”

  “Because the dukes aren’t here yet!” Hannah kept her voice low, but her features reflected her anxiety.

  Violet lightly touched her friend’s arm and guided her to pivot so that she was no longer facing her guests. “Remain calm. All will be well. Perhaps they were simply delayed.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I was a fool to pin my hopes on their attendance, wasn’t I?”

  Perhaps, but Violet wouldn’t say so. “It doesn’t matter if they come or not. Your party will be a smashing success. And they will be the poorer for not being present.”

  Hannah’s mouth curved into a wobbly smile. “You are the dearest of friends.”

  The sound of the butler speaking to someone in the hall made Hannah freeze. A moment later, he appeared, leading a gentleman. He was tall, broad-shouldered
with brown hair and thick brows cloaking warm brown eyes. This couldn’t be the Duke of Ice. He looked far too pleasant.

  Furthermore, Hannah didn’t relax, which meant he wasn’t the duke she was hoping for. This must be the other one, the one she’d had to invite to ensnare the true prize.

  Violet suppressed a shudder. Her friend’s scheming made her ill at ease. She offered the new arrival a welcoming smile.

  Hannah and Violet stepped just inside the drawing room as the butler paused at the doorway. “The Duke of Romsey,” he intoned.

  Every head in the room turned, and conversation ground to a halt. There was a beat of silence before voices quietly started up again.

  Hannah offered a curtsey. “Welcome, Your Grace.”

  Violet did the same but was prevented from speaking by the hasty arrival of Irving. He welcomed the duke with a bow.

  “We deeply appreciate your coming, Your Grace.”

  The Duke darted a glance toward Violet but focused on his hosts as he answered. “It is my pleasure. Thank you for the kind invitation.”

  Hannah looked past him, clearly in search of his missing friend. “Did His Grace not accompany you?” she asked, her voice tight with stress.

  “Not entirely, no. He should be along shortly.”

  The manner in which he said the word should gave Violet pause. The duke was uncertain of his friend. Violet prayed Hannah hadn’t caught that slight intonation.

  Violet edged away, giving Hannah and Irving a moment to speak with the duke. As she strolled toward the hearth, she overheard Lady Nixon, who was seated beside Mrs. Law on one of the settees.

  “The Duke of Ruin, can you imagine?” If a question could sneer, this one would have. Lady Nixon’s face, however, was quite serene. One would never guess at the venom dripping from her tone.

  “She said it would be Ice, but we get Ruin instead.” Mrs. Law clucked her tongue. “A veritable disaster. I wonder if anyone will leave now that he’s arrived.” She blinked at her friend. “I wonder if we should leave.”

  Violet wanted to snap at them that they should go and that their destination ought to be where the devil resided. Instead, she moved to the opposite side of the room, where she sent discreet glowers in their direction.

  She also looked toward her friend, who seemed thankfully ignorant of the obnoxious conversation taking place on the settee. Hannah did, however, look pale. This was not what she’d planned for—nor what she’d hoped.

  Surveying the room, Violet tried to determine what others thought of the duke’s arrival. Would anyone leave? Goodness, she hoped not.

  At that moment, a flash of light blazed over the lawn, followed a moment later by a loud crash. Then the rain started. Violet smiled in gratitude. Now they had to stay.

  “The Duke of Kilve.”

  The butler’s announcement took everyone by surprise, or so it seemed to Violet. They’d all been turned toward the window and the spectacular start of the storm.

  Conversation stopped once more, but this was much more pronounced. The length of silence stretched until it was palpable. It might have continued for some time if not for another flare of light and subsequent boom.

  Violet turned her body toward the doorway and immediately saw the look of triumph radiating from Hannah’s face. This must be the Duke of Ice. She glanced toward the biddies on the settee and nearly laughed at the twin looks of shock on their faces. Hannah had done it.

  Giddy with joy for her friend’s success, Violet turned her head to investigate this enigmatic duke.

  The moment she did so, she understood his nickname, for every part of her went utterly cold.

  She knew him.

  From the top of his dark head to the small cleft in his chin to the long, athletic length of his legs to the tips of his boots, she knew him. Oh, he looked different—there was a small bump at the bridge of his nose as if it had been broken, and his shoulders were wider, his chest more broad. And his face…his beloved face… It was scarcely the man she’d known and yet it was. His brow was coarser, as if he’d endured more than he’d thought possible. There was a hollowness to his cheeks and a tension in his jaw that made him look uncomfortable. She had the distinct impression he didn’t want to be here.

  Good heavens, what was he doing here?

  He’s the Duke of Ice, she reminded herself.

  A duke! How on earth had Nicholas Bateman become a duke? And how had he earned the name the Duke of Ice?

  Violet’s body thrummed. She took a step toward the door. His gaze, sweeping the room, stopped when it fell on her. There was a flash of recognition, and then he moved on. He’d seen her, recognized her, then decided she wasn’t worth his time.

  The pain of eight years ago swept through her frame and nearly sent her to her knees. No, she wouldn’t be worth his time. Not after what she’d done. And certainly not that he was now a duke.

  He stood in the doorway, his attention pinned to Hannah and Irving as well as the Duke of Romsey. He didn’t say much nor did his discomfort seem to wane. His stance was rigid, his jaw stiff. No, he didn’t look much like the Nicholas Bateman she had known.

  For a moment, she allowed her mind to retreat to that idyllic fortnight in Bath. She’d just come out, and they’d met by chance at the Sydney Hotel. He’d taken her for a stroll through the gardens. He’d been handsome and charming, and his intelligence and wit had completely won her heart. They’d arranged to meet the following day in the Pump Rooms and then danced the next night at the fancy ball at the Upper Assembly Rooms. The day after that, they’d returned to Sydney Gardens, where he’d kissed her in the shadow of a tree, and she’d been lost. Love had claimed her heart and owned it ever since.

  Chapter 3

  The sight of her across the drawing room made Nick’s blood run cold. His vision tunneled until he feared it would fade altogether. He’d immediately turned his attention to the Linfords and Simon and kept it there. Nevertheless, he was acutely aware of her presence.

  Violet Caulfield was as achingly beautiful now as she’d been eight years ago. But no, she wasn’t Violet Caulfield. She was Lady Pendleton. He wondered where her husband was.

  The ice he was known for slid through his veins. He never should have come here and would leave immediately.

  Light spilled into the drawing room as the storm raged again. Thunder clapped nearby as rain sluiced down the windows, and he realized he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Hopefully, this storm won’t last,” Mrs. Linford was saying. “But if it does, we’ll have plenty of inside activities tomorrow. Would either of you care for refreshment?” She gestured toward a table that was thankfully nowhere near Violet.

  Violet.

  He couldn’t call her that, nor should he think of her in such familiar terms. Yes, they’d known each other as intimately as two people could, but that had been a long time ago. A lifetime ago.

  Elias’s lifetime.

  “That sounds excellent, thank you,” Simon said. He nudged Nick’s arm and darted his eyes toward the refreshment table.

  Nick didn’t want any bloody refreshments. Actually, he did. Whiskey, preferably. Instead, he moved toward the table with Simon without saying a word to his hosts.

  “Could you manage a smile?” Simon asked. “Or at least a less murderous glower.”

  “I’m not glowering,” Nick muttered. He was intensely aware of the eyes turned toward him, of the air of expectation. “I never should have let you talk me into this.”

  “Perhaps,” Simon murmured. “However, we are here. It’s too late to run.”

  “No, it isn’t. I’ll be doing just that at the earliest opportunity.” He looked toward the windows as he reached the table. “I’d leave now if not for the storm.”

  “Storm or not, you promised me you’d stay one night.”

  Nick eyed the cakes and biscuits but didn’t pick any of them up.

  Simon’s brow darkened. “Hell, someone’s coming this way. Could you at least endeavor to look bored?
Or maybe ill?”

  That wouldn’t be too difficult, Nick thought. Being the center of attention, even for such a relatively small gathering of what, thirty or forty people, made him feel unsettled. He hadn’t been raised to be a duke, and though he’d carried the title for five years now, it still felt odd, particularly around others.

  The man who’d approached cleared his throat. “Don’t know if you remember me, Duke, but we met several years ago in London.” He spoke directly to Nick, clearly indicating which “Duke” he meant. “I’m Lord Colton.” He gestured to the woman at his side. “This is my wife, and allow me to present my daughter, Miss Colton.” He made the introduction with clear intent: Miss Colton was on the Marriage Mart.

  Nick offered a bow to the young lady. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Colton.” He noticed the viscount didn’t introduce his daughter to Simon, which only soured Nick’s already dismal mood. “This is my dear friend, the Duke of Romsey.”

  Simon bowed, and Miss Colton offered a curtsey. Lady Colton’s face pinched and Lord Colton’s cheeks lost a bit of their robust color. Nick wanted to turn and stalk away, effectively giving them the cut direct. How dare they insult Simon?

  As if reading Nick’s mind—and maybe, probably, his outrage was evident on his face—Simon briefly clasped Nick’s elbow. “Shall we move on?” he murmured.

  “Please excuse us.” Simon gave them an undeserved smile and guided Nick away. When they were out of earshot, he said, “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “Why? I don’t want to be here, particularly if people are going to be rude to you.”

  “They weren’t rude. They were reticent. I do want to be here, and you promised me one goddamn night.” Simon took a deep breath. “Compose yourself and let us continue.”

  “For how long? I need a drink.” He cast Simon an apologetic glance.

  Simon shook his head imperceptibly—their friendship was long enough and close enough that Nick didn’t need to censor himself. Still sometimes, particularly in moments of stress like this one, he tried to be more mindful. “You do need a drink,” Simon said. “But first, we circuit the room. I promise it won’t take long.” He looked ahead. “We’ll start with that woman. She looks quite harmless.”