The Duke of Ice

by Burke, Darcy

  The gentlemen joined them then, filtering into the drawing room. The air in the space changed, becoming thicker and more charged as the volume climbed. Violet hadn’t meant to look for him, but there he was, one of the last to enter. He lingered by the door.

  Nick didn’t look her way as he stood with the Duke of Romsey for a few minutes. Romsey left his side and made his way to another pair of gentlemen. Nick gravitated to the corner, where he gazed out over the drawing room with heavy-lidded eyes and his mouth pressed into a thin line of dispassion. There was only one word for what he was doing: brooding.

  When—and more importantly why—had he learned to brood?

  The young women had continued their chatter while Violet had taken on the role of observer.

  “You should go talk to him,” Miss Colton urged.

  “Who should?” Violet asked.

  “Either of them,” Miss Colton said with a wave of her hand. “Lavinia probably. She’s the most vivacious, I think.” She darted a look toward Miss Kingman, who kept casting surreptitious looks in Nick’s direction. “But Diana seems as though she wants to…” Miss Colton’s voice trailed off.

  “I’m going.” Lady Lavinia stood up, her mouth set with determination and her spine straight. She was a bit taller than average, and her pale yellow dress draped her slender frame to perfection. She smoothed the silk, perhaps nervously, before embarking to the opposite side of the room.

  “We mustn’t stare,” Violet said, despite following the young woman’s progress. Violet’s breath caught as Lady Lavinia stopped in front of Nick. His pale gaze swept over her, but his features registered nothing resembling interest. In fact, they didn’t register anything at all.

  Miss Colton swung her head back around toward Violet. “I can’t watch.”

  Violet tore her gaze away. “Perhaps you should go speak with Mr. Seaver,” she said encouragingly to Miss Colton. Since everyone had been dutifully introduced after arriving earlier, it was perfectly appropriate for her to do so.

  The young lady’s attention pivoted to the man in question. He stood near the windows in conversation with Mr. Stinnet, an older fellow with an entirely bald pate. “I don’t think I’m brave enough to interrupt them.”

  “I could go with you,” Violet offered. She could see herself guiding these young women over the next week and decided that might be rather nice.

  “Lavinia is coming back,” Miss Kingman said.

  Violet and Miss Colton snapped their heads in that direction. Lady Lavinia was indeed returning, her face flushed and her eyes a bit wide. When she sat down in her vacated seat, it was clear she was flustered.

  “What happened?” Miss Colton asked in alarm.

  “He was rather…abrupt.” Lady Lavinia seemed to take great pains not to look in his direction.

  “What did he say?” Violet asked, curiosity burning inside her. The Nick she’d met eight years ago in Bath had been charming and witty. Absolutely irresistible.

  “Barely anything. I asked if he liked to fish.”

  Violet recalled that he did. Very much, in fact.

  “He said the only fishing he cared to do was in the lake tomorrow.” Lady Lavinia blinked at them. “I said, ‘Of course. What other fishing would there be?’ He snorted then, and asked if I wasn’t fishing right then. He told me to swim back to the shallow end.”

  Violet snapped her head toward Nick. He was staring at her, his pale eyes familiar and yet unrecognizable. He shifted his gaze away. Slowly, as if he didn’t care that she’d caught him staring. She looked back to Lady Lavinia. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and pressed a hand to her cheek. It was still a bit pink and likely warm. “Yes. I daresay I won’t be doing that again.” She laughed nervously. “When he said I was fishing, what did he mean?” she asked Violet.

  Violet suppressed a frown. “I’m not certain, but I believe he was referring to husband hunting.”

  Miss Colton’s shoulders twitched. “I’m ever so glad I didn’t go with you!”

  Miss Kingman cast him a look tinged with curiosity. “He is the Duke of Ice. What did you expect?”

  Violet was more eager than ever to know how he’d attained that nickname. Whatever the reason, it didn’t give him permission to behave in such a boorish manner. Without thinking, she stood and stalked toward his corner.

  His gaze strayed to hers as she approached, and she wondered if he’d gained the sobriquet purely by the way his eyes made one feel. She shivered as she came to stand before him. “Duke.”

  “Lady Pendleton.” Or perhaps it was his tone. It fairly dripped with ice.

  Words stalled on her tongue. What could she say to this man after eight long, lonely years?

  He arched a dark brow at her. It was the prodding she needed.

  “Why were you rude to Lady Lavinia?”

  “I wasn’t rude. I was plainspoken.”

  “It sounded rude to me.”

  “And Lady Lavinia would be the first young woman to speak the absolute truth? I find that impossible to believe.”

  He was referring to her and the promise she’d made to him. The promise she’d broken.

  “She said you told her to swim back to the shallow end. That’s hardly polite.”

  “It’s honest.” He glowered past Violet. “She’s in over her head with me.”

  Words failed Violet again for a moment as she struggled to reconcile the cold man in front of her with the Nick she remembered. “What happened to you?”

  His frigid eyes bored into hers. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the Duke of Ice now.”

  “Just today in fact.” She searched his face, looking for a trace of the young man she’d fallen in love with. “I’d no idea you were a duke or that you were even in line for a title.”

  His lips spread into a humorless smile. “Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t have thrown me over. A duke surely trumps a viscount.”

  Of course he was angry with her—he’d every right to be. What had she expected? Eight years hadn’t washed away her emotion for him. She had to assume it was the same for him.

  “I am still so very sorry about what happened, as I explained then.”

  His brow shot up briefly. “Explained? I had no explanation from you.”

  “I wrote you a letter.” Panic bubbled in her chest as she realized he’d never received it. She’d asked her maid to post it—had her parents somehow intervened?

  His face settled back into its stoic mask. “Would it have changed anything?”

  Defeat, as heavy as it had been then, weighed on her. She would still have married Pendleton. She’d had no choice. “No.”

  Horror dawned, and her lips parted as she looked up at him. “Is this… Are you like this because of me?”

  He let out a sharp snicker. “Don’t flatter yourself, Lady Pendleton. You were one disappointment among many, and I daresay you weren’t the worst. Not by a great deal.” His gaze hardened. “Do not presume to know me. Our brief and ancient association is long dead. I prefer it to remain that way.”

  He turned and strode from the room, moving much faster than a glacier, but with precisely the same temperature.

  As Violet pivoted to return to the trio she’d left, she realized the volume of conversation had dipped. Heads were turned in her direction. Her gaze found Hannah’s a few feet away. It looked as though she’d been on her way to Violet—perhaps to intervene in her conversation with Nick. A conversation it seemed, judging by the attention currently directed toward her, everyone had been aware of.

  Color leapt up her neck and spread through her face. She spun on her heel and fled the room.

  Chapter 4

  Nick handed his fifth salmon of the morning to the footman and set about casting his line again. The sun was just becoming visible over the tree line, which meant his solitude would soon be interrupted.

  “You’ve quite a hand at this, Your Grace,” the footman said as he placed the fish in a basket.

  Nick said n
othing as he sank his line into the pond once more. Fishing allowed him to sit quietly without anyone bothering him or expecting anything from him. Whether he was on a boat in the ocean or beside a lake or stream as he was today, he enjoyed the silence, broken only by the sounds of the water and the creatures in and around it. The trill of a jay reached his ears, and he closed his eyes briefly, grateful for the calm.

  “How long have you been out here?” Simon’s voice interrupted his peace.

  Nick opened his eyes. “Since just before the sun came up.”

  “Too early for me.”

  “I didn’t expect you to join me.”

  “Nor would you have wanted me to.” Simon clapped his hand on Nick’s shoulder briefly before dropping down next to him. The footman handed him a pole.

  “You’re actually going to fish?” Nick asked, eyeing the equipment in Simon’s grip.

  Simon grimaced as he cast his line. “I thought I’d try.”

  “Admirable of you.”

  “Yes, well, I think it behooves me to participate in the party’s activities, even if I’m the resident pariah. Though I wonder if I may be in danger of losing that title to you.”

  Nick glanced at his friend, his mouth pursing. “I’d be happy to take it from you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Trust me.”

  “You forget that I like to be left alone.”

  “And yet every time I come to visit, you seem to enjoy my presence,” Simon said bemusedly. “You’re fooling yourself, and someday you’ll come to realize that. I just hope it isn’t too late.”

  Nick suffered his friend’s concern. “When would that be?”

  “When you’re old and decrepit and everyone you know is gone.” Simon shot him an earnest stare. “I mean everyone.”

  So many people were gone already. “That argument will gain you no ground.”

  Simon exhaled. “I know. But I still have to make it every now and again. Just as I have to point out your atrocious behavior last night.”

  Nick turned his head. “Atrocious?”

  “Don’t pretend a stupidity you don’t possess. First you stood in the corner sulking like a boy denied his favorite sweet. Then you conversed rather brusquely with not one, but two women. The first went hurrying back across the room, tail between her legs, and I can tell you her father, Lord Balcombe, was not pleased. And the second…”

  Nick looked back out at the lake, willing a fish to take his bait so that this infernal topic could be interrupted and hopefully avoided.

  “It was clear to everyone that your conversation was heated—such a strange word to be associated with the Duke of Ice, or so I heard said—and that Lady Pendleton was flustered. She practically ran from the room.”

  Nick watched a heron swoop down and take up a position on the opposite side of the lake in the shallows. The graceful bird glanced toward Nick and Simon but paid them no further mind as it stood stock-still in search of prey.

  “Have you nothing to say?” Simon demanded.

  Nick turned his head once more. “Did you ask me a question?”

  Simon snorted. “You’re a beast. You should apologize to both women. You’re never going to find a wife if you behave in that fashion.”

  “May I remind you that finding a wife is your endeavor? Furthermore, we’re dukes. We can behave in whatever fashion we please and still find wives.”

  “There you are wrong, my friend,” Simon said good-naturedly. “As it happens, if you are rumored to have killed your wife, your marital opportunities are rather limited. If not nonexistent.”

  “You didn’t kill her,” Nick muttered, knowing this was a futile argument, much as Simon’s regarding his chosen solitude.

  “If only I could be as certain as you.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes before Simon spoke again. “Who is Lady Pendleton? It seemed as though you knew her when we were introduced yesterday.”

  Nick didn’t want to talk about her. Or think about her. Or remember anything to do with her. But he’d dreamed of her last night for the first time in ages. Only she hadn’t been the young, dewy-eyed girl he’d met eight years ago. She’d looked as he’d seen her last night—her high cheekbones more pronounced, her lips a deeper pink. And her eyes, so clear and honest in their youth, had been perceptive, more experienced, like stones polished after years and years in the bed of a stream.

  “She’s no one important.”

  “But you know her?” Simon persisted.

  Nick ground his teeth. “Yes.”

  “And she clearly strikes a nerve.”

  She did indeed. Last night he had been sulking. Or perhaps brooding was a better word. Then that chit had come over to speak with him, and he’d done his best to scare her off. Not because he was a beast, but because it was better for everyone, especially the young woman.

  Then Violet had approached him, and every inch of his body had reacted in a combination of hurt, regret, anger, and something wholly surprising: yearning. For a fleeting moment, he’d recalled what it had felt like to want her. He’d embraced the other emotions instead.

  Even so, he couldn’t forget the glimmer he’d seen, the reminder of a time long past. A time before he’d gone to war, before he’d lost the rest of his family, before Jacinda and Elias.

  “I knew her a long time ago,” Nick said softly, his gaze trained on the heron.

  “Before we met at Oxford?”

  Nick shook his head. “After.”

  “You never told me about…” Simon sucked in a breath. “She was the woman. Christ, I’d forgotten all about her.”

  Nick had told him he’d met a woman, but that she’d married someone else. By then, Nick had progressed from grief to anger. “You were busy at the time.”

  “Raising hell,” Simon said with more than a touch of regret. He’d been doing what heirs to dukedoms did in London—gambling, chasing women, and drinking.

  Nick was sure there were many things Simon didn’t remember, and he didn’t hold it against his friend. Simon had been through his own trials and managed to come through them with a far better disposition than Nick.

  “I’m sure you don’t wish to speak of it, but remind me what happened beyond the fact that she broke your heart?”

  “I don’t think there’s much else to tell, is there?” What good would it do to relive that fortnight?

  Her parents hadn’t been in Bath when they’d met, and so he hadn’t been able to ask to court her. They’d met in secret, and Nick had anticipated asking for permission from her father to wed as soon as he came to Bath. However, when Nick went to Violet’s aunt’s town house to make his case for her hand, he’d learned that she’d left town the day before just as soon as her parents had arrived. His mind shuttered against what he’d discovered that day. He gripped the fishing pole tightly, the muscles of his hand clenching. “In hindsight, I don’t think my feelings were really that strong.”

  “How can you know?” Simon asked. “Your relationship ended before it had really begun. It’s hard to say what would have bloomed if the seeds had been allowed to grow.”

  “Stop trying to be a bloody poet.”

  Simon flashed a broad smile. “Don’t pretend I don’t amuse you.”

  A loud cacophony of chatter amidst the rustling of bushes heralded the arrival of the male members of the house party.

  “Ho there! I heard you’d come down early, Your Grace,” Linford said with a hearty grin. He turned his smile on Simon as well. “And here you are, Your Grace. I am beginning to think that where I may find one of you, I shall find the other. How easy it will be for the young ladies to spot you.” He chortled and looked about to see if anyone else was joining him in his mirth. Seeing that they were not, his laughter turned to coughing and then he cleared his throat. “Shall we fish?”

  Footmen had toted the fishing equipment, which the men were now clamoring to claim. Nick resisted the urge to pull up his line and return to the house. He doubted there would be much more t
o catch with all this commotion, but told himself to stay for Simon’s sake.

  It was true that most of the attendees treated Simon with an odd deference that smelled a bit of fear. Some of these imbeciles clearly believed that he had killed his wife. If nothing else, Nick should do his best to disabuse them of that notion and encourage them to get to know Simon instead of listening to vicious rumors.

  How in the hell was he—a man who sought and coveted his solitude—supposed to do that? He’d long forgotten how to be affable or charming.

  Blood of the devil. His mood, already soured by the disruption of his peace and quiet, threatened to turn even darker.

  He glanced over at Simon, noting that no one had sat on his other side. Reeling in his line, he stood. “This is an excellent spot. I’ve already caught several salmon.”

  Lord Colton stepped toward him. “Indeed?”

  “Go ahead, take it.”

  “Are you certain?” the viscount asked.

  “I insist.” Nick offered a bland smile before taking himself away from the crowd. He found an outcropping of rock, an ideal spot above the deepest water of the lake. He’d considered camping there earlier, but it had been rather slick at that dark hour. Now, it was mostly dried out thanks to the sun.

  Nick sat down on the rock and wished he’d grabbed one of the blankets the footmen had brought. The stone was rather hard and cold. Ah well, at least he was relatively alone. He cast his line and tried to relax. Just as he was beginning to feel comfortable, he saw a flash of color across the lake. Blast. The women of the house party had come to the lake.

  A handful of boats bobbed around a small dock. Evidently, they’d come to row. There’d be absolutely no fishing now. At least not with any success. Who the hell had planned this activity?

  Several of the gentlemen called out across the water. The women waved in response. Though he tried not to, Nick picked out Violet among the group. She was taller than most, her blond locks covered with a tall, dark green hat that made her even easier to spot. She wore a costume that was a bit reminiscent of a riding habit, with a buttoned coat and sleek velvet trim. She was stunning.