by Burke, Darcy
Nick stopped moving and dug his feet into the carpet. “No.”
Simon halted alongside him. Nick angled his body so he couldn’t see Violet. They stood near the windows, and another flash of light brightened the sky. “Why not?” Simon asked.
“I don’t want to speak with her. You may take me anywhere else. Anywhere.”
Simon dashed a glance toward her, his brows gathering together in consternation. “You know her? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before. How do you know someone I don’t?”
“Leave it,” Nick growled low in his throat. The urge to stalk from the room was nearly overwhelming.
“Calm yourself,” Simon said soothingly. “We’ll discuss it later.” He gave Nick a look that clearly communicated he wasn’t going to forget the topic.
They spent a half hour—or maybe it was a lifetime—meeting everyone else in the room. There were several unwed ladies, all of them interested in meeting Nick and nervous about having to meet Simon too. By the time they’d finished, Nick was ready to walk directly into the storm and hopefully be struck by lightning.
“You’ve one more person to meet,” Mrs. Linford said brightly as Nick and Simon made their way toward the door. “Come.” She lightly touched Nick’s arm, and Simon inclined his head to go along.
A moment later, Nick stood three feet from the woman who’d broken his heart.
“Violet, may I present Their Graces, the Duke of Kilve and the Duke of Romsey.”
Violet offered a rather deep curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She inclined her head to both of them, and Nick acknowledged that she was the first and only person in the room who’d given Simon the same deference and courtesy she’d given him. Perversely, that didn’t improve his disposition.
“Violet is Lady Pendleton,” Mrs. Linford said.
Simon took her hand and bowed. “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”
Nick forced himself to make a curt bow. He said nothing and avoided looking at her. Except he couldn’t. She was even lovelier now than in her youth. Her eyes were still full of warmth and intelligence—moss-green irises that melted to rich brown at the edges. She had more curves now and a set to her chin that suggested experience and confidence. Her dark pink lips were as full and lush as he remembered. That mouth had drawn him in from the start, especially when she’d laughed. He’d compared it to music.
He’d been a foolish boy.
Mr. Linford cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone to turn toward the doorway. “Gentlemen, if you’d care to repair to the billiards room with me, you are most welcome.”
Hell yes. “If you’ll excuse us,” Nick said, turning. He didn’t wait for a response before stalking toward his host.
A few minutes later, he entered the billiards room on Linford’s heels. A footman stood at a sideboard and offered spirits. Nick accepted a glass of whiskey and took a welcome drink as he made his way to a corner.
Simon joined him there, his eyes dark and his lips pressed together. “You were incredibly rude.”
“Not incredibly.” He took another sip of whiskey. “It’s not as though I gave her the cut direct.”
Simon exhaled sharply. “I know you’ve a name to live up to, but must you be a beast?”
“You insisted on dragging me here. You may not complain about how I comport myself.”
A groan of frustration vibrated low in Simon’s throat. “Who is she?”
“I met her several years ago. Before my uncle bought my commission.” He and Simon hadn’t been as close during that period after Oxford. While Nick, a mere mister at the time, had gone home to Bath, Simon had been a marquess with a penchant for gaming and drink. And women. He’d done his best to become the most notorious rake in London.
“You never told me about her.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” That was an egregious lie, but the story was ancient history. Surely it didn’t matter now.
Except she was here. And the past was playing merry hell with his well-ordered life. No, Simon had played merry hell with his well-ordered life. “I never should’ve allowed you to persuade me to come here,” Nick said before taking another drink.
“Perhaps not,” Simon said with resignation. “But you are here. Can we not try to make the best of it? If the weather clears, there will be fishing tomorrow. Linford’s lake is excellent, I hear.”
Nick did love to fish. And there wouldn’t be any women there. Perhaps if he kept to this room as well as his own chamber, he could suffer through this infernal party. “How long are we supposed to be here?”
“A week,” Simon said. “Dare I hope you are reconsidering your desire to flee?”
“As you said, we are here, and there is fishing.”
Simon grinned. “There are also several marriageable females. You can also reconsider your decision to avoid matrimony.”
Nick grunted before sipping his whiskey.
“I think there are several candidates. And you’ve an excellent chance with any of them.”
“I’ll leave the courtship to you,” Nick said.
“Oh no, everyone is interested in you,” Simon said cheerfully. “You didn’t kill your wife.”
Nick looked at his friend sharply. He joked about the rumor sometimes, and it was the nearest they came to discussing it. There were just some things you didn’t share with anyone, not even those closest to you.
Such as the fact that Nick had killed his wife. If not for him, she would still be alive. Nick was cursed. Indeed, perhaps if he removed himself from Simon, his friend might begin to emerge from the cloud of fear and distrust that surrounded him wherever he went.
Nick swirled the whiskey in his glass before downing the rest of the amber liquid. “You should find a better friend.”
Simon snorted. “No one will have me. So I’m afraid you’re stuck.”
“Perhaps your luck would improve without me.”
“Is that what you think?” Simon let out a huff of laughter. “Right now, you’re the only luck I have. Without you, I wouldn’t even be here. So you’re not getting rid of me. Let us try to enjoy ourselves this week, and if the future presents itself, you ought to embrace it.”
Nick felt suddenly contrite. If Simon could be optimistic, Nick owed it to him to try. Still, there were limits to what he could do. What he was capable of. “I’m not going to fall in love.”
“You sound quite adamant.”
“If there was a marriage—and I’m not saying there will be—she would have to agree to an arrangement in which love played no part.” That was essential. For her own well-being.
“How cold, but then you are—”
Nick glared at him. “Don’t say it.”
Simon raised his hand in self-defense. “I won’t.” He eyed Nick intently. “Could you do that? Take a wife without emotion.”
“I do everything without emotion.”
“Mostly, yes.” Simon let out a breath and turned to look at the windows. The lightning had died down, but a sudden sharp bolt rent the sky. “Sometimes, however, there’s a glimmer of hope.” He slid a look at Nick and the corner of his mouth ticked up. “I’ll cling to that. And so should you.”
No. Nick had long given up on that particular emotion. Hope was for people who believed in happy endings.
Nick most certainly did not.
* * *
Later that evening, Violet entered the drawing room after dinner. Most of the ladies sat down to play cards, but she’d never particularly cared for cards. Instead, she made her way to a seating area in the corner where she could have a good vantage point of the activities. She’d also be able to see when Nick came into the room.
She mustn’t think of him so familiarly. He was the Duke of Kilve now. The Duke of Ice.
How he embodied that nickname. The frigidity in his gaze had been matched only by the frostiness of his tone and the chill of his overall demeanor. At dinner, he’d sat at Irving Linford’s right with Mrs. Linford, Irving’s mo
ther, on his other side. Violet had watched him covertly throughout the meal, but he hadn’t once looked in her direction. He’d seemed to engage in conversation with Irving and his mother, but they’d done the majority of the talking as far as Violet could tell. Nick had sat stiff and tall, like an icicle frozen in place and absolutely impervious to warmth.
That wasn’t the Nick she’d known eight years ago. What had happened to him? Curiosity ate through her, but she wasn’t going to ask about him. Although she was certain Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law would tell her everything she wanted to know. If she strained to listen, she’d be able to hear them from across the room. They’d talked incessantly since entering the drawing room and were the primary reason Violet had chosen to remove herself from the card playing.
The younger set of women, a trio of bright-faced young ladies, made their way to Violet’s seating area. “Do you mind if we join you?” one of them asked. She was a petite, almost fairylike creature with large blue eyes, glowing ivory skin, and dark, nearly black hair. Her name was Miss Diana Kingman. Her father was a baronet and, from what Violet could tell, a bit of a braggart. He believed his daughter to be the most beautiful and the most charming young woman on the Marriage Mart, and he made sure everyone knew it.
“Not at all,” Violet said warmly. “Please sit.”
Miss Kingman took the chair near Violet, while the other two—Lady Lavinia Gillingham and Miss Sarah Colton—lowered themselves to the small settee.
“We hope you don’t mind, but we thought we might ask your advice,” Miss Colton said tentatively.
Violet wasn’t sure she was in a position to advise these young women. “If I can help, I certainly will. What do you wish to know?”
Lady Lavinia smoothed the back of her dark red-brown hair and glanced between the other two, as if seeking courage. “It’s our first house party.” She squinted at Violet, making her wonder if the girl needed spectacles. “What do we need to know?”
Violet thought back to her first house party. She’d been wed to Clifford for nearly a year, and, newly with child, she’d been rather ill. He’d taken that opportunity to do what many gentlemen did at such events—philander. But she wouldn’t discuss that with these young ladies.
“I daresay there isn’t anything you need to know. Mrs. Linford has planned a great many diversions for everyone, so there is bound to be plenty for you to keep busy.”
“I’m eager for the excursion to see St. Andrew’s Cathedral in Wells,” Lady Lavinia said.
“I’ve seen it and it’s stunning.” Miss Colton’s blue eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I’m looking forward to shopping.”
When Miss Kingman didn’t contribute her opinion regarding the scheduled activities, Violet turned to her and asked, “And you, Miss Kingman?”
“The cathedral will be excellent, I think. But I’ll only be allowed to go if certain other guests go too.” However she felt about this was carefully guarded by her placid demeanor.
The other two women gazed sympathetically at Miss Kingman, and Lady Lavinia leaned toward Violet. “Her father is keen to marry her off.” She kept her voice low.
Violet studied Miss Kingman to see her reaction, but her features were remarkably impassive. The young woman was a study in reservation. Violet completely understood. She’d quickly learned to repress most of her emotions after marrying Pendleton, and though he’d been dead nearly three years, she still kept things close. Or perhaps that was maturity, as her mother often noted.
“I should like to be married,” Miss Kingman said evenly. She glanced around at the other two young ladies. “Wouldn’t you?”
Miss Colton’s shoulder twitched. “I suppose. My parents certainly want that.”
“I do want to marry,” Lady Lavinia said. “But perhaps not immediately.” She winked at Miss Kingman before turning her gaze to Violet. “How old were you when you wed, Lady Pendleton?”
“Not quite twenty.” She hadn’t even had a season. That had been the intent, but after Nick, her parents had married her off at the earliest possible opportunity.
Lady Lavinia wrinkled her nose. “I’m two years past that, and I’m not certain I’m ready to be leg shackled.”
Violet hadn’t been ready either, but that was due to the choice of groom. If she’d been allowed to follow her heart… Well, that hardly mattered now.
Tracing a small flower embroidered on her skirt, Lady Lavinia exhaled. “Still, there are several eligible bachelors here this week, and my father will undoubtedly assess their worth.” She shot Miss Kingman a look of commiseration. “I daresay our fathers will put us in direct competition for the Duke of Ice.” She laughed, but it was edged with uncertainty. Or perhaps nervousness.
Miss Colton smiled happily. “I doubt my father will bother trying to match me to an Untouchable, thank goodness. For me, they are truly untouchable.”
“Are you sure?” Lady Lavinia asked. “No one would dare touch the Duke of Ruin, and for that reason, he may be quite available. If someone wished to take the risk.”
The smile crashed off Miss Colton’s face, and her eyes widened with horror. “You would wish that on me?”
“Of course not!” Lady Lavinia’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “It was a poor jest.”
“What is wrong with the Duke of Ru—the Duke of Romsey?” Violet didn’t want to use their nicknames.
All three young ladies swung their heads to stare at Violet.
“How can you not know?” Miss Kingman asked.
“I’m afraid I don’t pay much attention to gossip.” How many times had she stopped Hannah from sharing the latest on-dit? Too many to count.
“It’s quite a lurid tale.” Lady Lavinia lowered her voice and glanced about before fixing her stare on Violet. “It is said he killed his wife—pushed her down the stairs.”
Violet was instantly outraged for the man. “What a horrid rumor.”
“It’s not a rumor,” Miss Colton said softly. “He has said himself that he doesn’t remember what happened.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t dispute it?” Violet asked.
“That is the rumor,” Lady Lavinia said.
This was a prime example of why Violet despised rumors. “Was he formally accused of this crime? Or tried for it in the court?”
“Charges were never brought,” Lady Lavinia said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But everyone knows what truly happened. Such a tragedy. She was apparently expecting their first child to boot.”
Violet’s gut clenched. She’d lost several children—three—but not because she’d fallen down the stairs. No, her body was simply not able to carry a child, a defect her husband pointed out at every opportunity. “How awful.”
“I have to admit that he doesn’t look like a murderer.” Miss Colton shrugged. “I thought he was rather handsome, to be honest.” Color flooded her cheeks, and she looked down at her lap.
Lady Lavinia giggled softly, then reached over and patted Miss Colton’s hand. “I did too.”
Miss Colton looked up at her and joined in with soft laughter.
“It’s his eyes,” Miss Kingman said, her lips quirking into a half smile. “Such a rich brown, like velvet. And little gold flecks that make them glimmer.”
Lady Lavinia looked at her sharply. “Do you have your sights on him?”
Miss Kingman’s gaze cooled. “Of course not. Finding someone attractive doesn’t mean they would be a good match.”
It was precisely the same sentiment Violet’s mother had repeated eight years ago. Violet’s “love” for Nick hadn’t been real. Finding someone handsome and being drawn to them physically were not nearly as important to a marriage as placement in Society. She’d convinced the young Violet of that truth, that what her heart wanted didn’t matter. It seemed Miss Kingman had been schooled in the same manner.
“My mother tells me that all the time,” Miss Colton said with a sigh. “I argue with her—love is important.”
“Companionship at least,�
�� Lady Lavinia put in. “I can’t imagine marrying a man I didn’t even like.” She gave a delicate shudder.
Miss Kingman showed no outward reaction to the other girls’ commiseration. “We must trust that things will work out.”
Violet couldn’t tell if the young woman believed that or was merely reciting what had been drilled into her head. In her own experience, things hadn’t worked out—at least not with regard to her marriage. But now she was a widow and blissfully independent.
Violet coughed delicately. “So the Duke of Romsey isn’t someone any of you wish to pursue.” All three women shook their heads in the negative. “Well, there are several other eligible bachelors here. Mr. Adair’s father is a baron. And I believe Mr. Woodward is heir to a viscountcy.”
“Mr. Seaver is quite charming,” Miss Colton said.
Violet didn’t know him. “Excellent. I think you’ll all be quite entertained.”
“I hope the weather clears so that we may fish tomorrow.”
Violet turned to look at Miss Kingman, who’d spoken the surprising statement. “You fish?”
She nodded. “Though I won’t be allowed tomorrow, I suppose. I shall have to suffer with only watching.”
“How unfortunate,” Violet said, her mind working. “I can speak to Mrs. Linford. I’m sure she can arrange something.”
Miss Kingman went a bit pale. “No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to cause a fuss. Truly. I am quite content to watch the men fish.” She gave them a serene smile, but Violet wasn’t entirely sure she meant it.
“I heard we will be allowed to take the boats out,” Lady Lavinia said to Miss Kingman. “Surely that will be diverting.”
Miss Kingman’s eyes lit with true anticipation. “Indeed it will.”
For some reason, it made Violet happy to see Miss Kingman’s enthusiasm. Perhaps the young woman reminded her of a past she’d tried to forget, of being a young woman with no choices. Violet would keep an eye on Miss Kingman for the duration of the party.