by Burke, Darcy
He caught the perturbed stare Simon quickly directed his way and lifted a shoulder in response. He knew he’d been short, but he didn’t want to make inane chitchat, especially about himself.
The expression he’d donned was clearly enough to deter anyone from approaching him. It looked a few times as though someone wanted to come speak with him, but then thought better of it. Mrs. Linford smiled at him and took a few steps in his direction, but stopped abruptly and made her way to another group of guests. And Lord Adair had inclined his head, then angled his body as if he might come Nick’s way. His wife had intercepted him and cast a wary glance at Nick.
Good, he preferred they all stay away.
With each minute of Violet’s absence, his gut churned. Ice spread across his shoulder blades and down his spine. When he was on the brink of quitting the room, she appeared in the doorway. Her honey-colored hair was piled atop her head with a jeweled comb while curls kissed her cheekbones. Her ruby-red gown hugged her frame, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the creaminess of her skin. Her gaze swept the room as his had done, but instead of finding it wanting, she settled on him. A shock went through him as their eyes met.
He’d felt something similar in the lake when he’d pulled her from the water, desperate to make sure she wasn’t going down beneath the boat. Leaving her to save Miss Kingman had been difficult—painful almost—but he’d done what he must. He’d seen Violet safe and gone to help the flailing young woman. But with every stroke, he thought of Violet’s hazel eyes—a beguiling mixture of strength, determination, and vulnerability.
That last one scared him to death.
He didn’t like vulnerability. He’d had far too much of it.
Her lips curved up, and she started toward him. He didn’t want to speak with her. Turning abruptly, he nearly crashed straight into Mrs. Padmore, a matron with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue. She faltered but steadied herself. “My goodness.” She gave him a thorough but critical assessment. “Are you in a hurry?”
She wasn’t alone. Mrs. Stinnet, another matron but with far kinder eyes and a more retiring demeanor, stood at her side. “Of course he’s not,” she said to the other woman. “He just didn’t see us.”
“No, I did not.” But he had been in a hurry—to escape Violet. “I beg your pardon.” He offered them an awkward bow and attempted to move past them, but Mrs. Padmore moved into his path so that he’d have to barrel into her again if he wanted to leave.
“That was a brave thing you did this morning, jumping into the lake,” she said. “I didn’t see it, but I hear it was magnificent.”
“Yes, quite dashing,” Mrs. Stinnet said with a wide smile. “I’m sorry to have missed it.”
He didn’t like this attention. Or the accolades. “It wasn’t meant to be a show.”
The women stared at him, nonplussed. Good.
Before they could pester him with more nonsense, the butler announced dinner. Relief poured through Nick, and he turned away from the women with alacrity.
He went directly to Linford’s mother, whom he’d escorted to dinner last night at Linford’s behest. Nick had also sat next to her at the table. She was rather reserved and provided an excellent buffer between him and the rest of the guests. Hopefully, he’d be seated next to her again.
Striding to her side, he offered her his arm and looked forward to leaving tomorrow.
* * *
“He’s ruining my house party!” Hannah cried as she and Violet huddled together in the corner of the drawing room. “He was supposed to complement the party. Elevate it.”
Violet patted her friend’s forearm briefly. “You mustn’t fuss. Or draw attention,” she murmured.
As soon as dinner had finished, Hannah had steered Violet into the corner where they could talk somewhat privately. Still, Hannah’s stress was evident, and Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law were casting suspicious glances in their direction.
Hannah straightened. “You’re right, of course. I refuse to let him ruin things.” Her eyes hardened, and her jaw stiffened with determination.
“That’s the spirit. Who needs him anyway when the Duke of Romsey is turning out to be so charming?”
“Is he?” Hannah sounded uncertain. “I suppose his involvement in this morning’s boating debacle has improved people’s opinion.” She groaned softly. “Between that disaster and the Duke of Ice’s behavior, I may never be able to host another house party again.”
Violet felt for her friend. She was, invariably, a people pleaser, going out of her way to ensure that those around her were happy and satisfied. That, in turn, made her happy and satisfied. “I don’t think anyone is having a bad time.”
With the exception of Nick. He’d been obnoxious before dinner—tales of his boorishness had traveled around the opposite end of the table from where he sat, again between Irving and Mrs. Linford. Simon’s counsel from earlier floated through her mind. Perhaps she should try to speak with Nick.
“I’ll talk to the Duke,” Violet offered.
“Kilve?” Hannah asked. At Violet’s nod, her shoulders drooped with relief. “I should be ever so grateful. Now, I must go speak with Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law and make sure they are indeed enjoying themselves.”
“Are you joking? Of course they are. What you see as a disaster is their premium gossip. I’m sure they’re thrilled.” Violet didn’t bother keeping the edge of derision from her tone.
Hannah smiled, and Violet was glad to see it. “You’re right, of course. Still, I’d prefer nicer gossip. And I know you would too.” She gave Violet’s hand a pat. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Violet watched Hannah rise and go to where the scandalmongers were sitting. Violet’s gaze drifted to the trio of young women who sat in the same area they had last night when they’d joined Violet. She stood to go see how Miss Kingman was faring.
The three women smiled up at her, welcoming her approach. Lady Lavinia patted the empty chair beside her. “Come sit with us, Lady Pendleton.”
“Good evening, ladies,” Violet said before turning her attention to Miss Kingman. “I trust you are recovered after this morning’s swim?”
The young lady gave a delicate shudder. “I admit it was petrifying. I wish I knew how to swim. I asked to learn when I was younger, but my father was unhappy enough that my grandfather taught me to fish.”
“Your grandfather sounds wonderful,” Violet said, thinking of her Uncle Bertrand, who’d encouraged her in ways her own parents hadn’t. “I highly recommend swimming. My uncle introduced me to the water when I was ten.”
“Is that why you seemed so calm this morning?” Miss Colton asked. “You didn’t look frightened at all after you came up out of the lake.”
“I admit I was—just a bit,” Violet confided. “Mostly because when I did learn to swim, I wasn’t bogged down with such heavy skirts.”
All three young women were riveted on Violet. “Whatever did you wear?” Lady Lavinia asked, sounding somewhat scandalized.
Violet looked around before lowering her voice. “A boy’s shirt and pair of breeches.”
Three pairs of eyes rounded, then Miss Colton giggled. The others joined in.
“How scandalous!” Miss Colton said from behind her hand as she tried to keep her mirth in check.
“Perhaps, but it was just me and my uncle and my older brother.” Uncle Bertrand had promised to teach Henry, and when Violet had asked to be included, he couldn’t think of a reason she shouldn’t. How she missed her uncle.
Now composed, Miss Kingman said, “His Grace is certainly an excellent swimmer. He carried me all the way to the dock and hardly seemed fatigued.”
“Too bad he’s a clod,” Lady Lavinia said, wrinkling her nose.
Miss Kingman narrowed her eyes slightly. “He’s not a clod. He’s simply unused to events like this.”
Violet eyed Miss Kingman, curious as to her defense of Nick.
Lady Lavinia rolled her eyes at her frie
nd. “I suppose you must defend him. If your father has his way, you’ll be the next Duchess of Ice.”
Miss Kingman looked away as a bit of color stole up her neck.
“It’s a shame you can’t talk your father into the Duke of Romsey instead. He seems far more affable.” Miss Colton turned eagerly to Violet. “He rescued you from the water and escorted you to the house. Perhaps the Duke already has his sights set on someone.” She gave Violet a coy smile.
“I am not in the market for a husband,” Violet assured her. “I will say that he was quite charming, and whomever he does set his sights on will be very lucky.”
“You’ll have a hard time convincing them.” Lady Lavinia inclined her head toward the opposite side of the room, where Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law were holding court. “My mother hangs on their every word, and they said they are not persuaded by the Duke of Ruin’s performance this morning.”
Performance? “I hardly think it was an act.” Violet looked down to keep her acidic glare from shooting across the room.
Lady Lavinia rose from her chair. “I’m afraid I need to visit the retiring room, and I want to hurry before the gentlemen return.”
Miss Colton jumped up. “I’ll join you.”
They excused themselves and departed, leaving Violet alone with Miss Kingman.
“I’m glad you are all right,” Violet said. “That water was rather cold.”
Miss Kingman shivered. “Just thinking of it makes my skin prickle. I am incredibly grateful to the Duke for saving me. And so are my parents.”
“Is it true that your father hopes for a match with him?” Violet was surprised the question came out sounding even. Her heart was beating, and her throat was dry. Thinking of him marrying someone else made her want to toss up her accounts. And yet she’d done precisely that to him—married someone else. Had he felt the same sense of sickness? Her heart twisted.
Miss Kingman nodded. “Yes. He says I’m more than worthy of a duke. Whatever that means.”
Violet wondered at the young woman’s true feelings on the matter. “And what is it you want?”
The young woman blinked at Violet, her ink-black lashes falling briefly over her vivid blue eyes. “I want whatever is best. My parents say he is best.”
She sounded so much like Violet had eight years ago. It was amazing the lies one could tell oneself even while one’s heart was breaking. Especially when one’s heart was breaking. “Make sure it’s what will really make you happy. Marriage will change your life.”
Forever. Unless your despicable husband has the grace to die. Though Violet was far happier now, she took no joy in Clifford’s death.
She’d long wondered how different things would have been if she’d been allowed to marry Nick. Or if she’d done as they’d discussed and eloped in the event that her parents refused him.
The gentlemen took that moment to enter the drawing room. Violet half expected Nick to be absent. He had behaved rather obnoxiously before dinner. Perhaps he would beg off the rest of the evening, especially since Hannah had planned dancing.
But no, he filed into the room alongside Simon, although he quickly veered to the right and took up his usual brooding stance in the corner. Before she could think better of it, Violet stood. “Please excuse me, Miss Kingman.”
The young woman grabbed Violet’s hand briefly, drawing Violet to look down at her in concern.
“You’re not going to speak to him about me, are you?”
“I was not. Do you want me to?” Violet couldn’t believe she’d asked the question. She didn’t want to play matchmaker, not when she wanted him for herself.
Goodness, that sounded so selfish. Yet honest. She’d made a mistake eight years ago, and it seemed Fate was giving her a second chance. She’d be a fool to let it pass her by again.
“Only if you want to.” Her tone was less than enthusiastic, and again Violet had to wonder if she was truly interested in marrying Nick. Or if she was interested in marrying at all.
Violet gave her a meaningful look that she hoped the young woman would understand. “If you need someone to confide in—about anything—I hope you know that I’ll listen. And whatever you say will be kept in confidence.” She gave her a warm smile before turning to face the dragon.
Now he was a dragon?
Standing in the corner as he was, his arms crossed, his mouth drawn into a near frown, he looked every bit an imposing figure. Violet refused to be intimidated.
As she neared him, he dropped his hands to his sides and looked her over—rather thoroughly. His regard heated her, reminding her of the way he used to look at her. His eyes would light up, and his lips would curve into the most devastating smile. What she wouldn’t give to see that expression on his face again.
“I wanted to thank you for rescuing me from beneath the boat this morning.”
“You look well, Lady Pendleton. I am glad to see it.” He could be polite.
She was encouraged. “Miss Kingman is also grateful for your assistance.”
“I understand she is also in fine health.”
“She is,” Violet said, feeling suddenly nervous. She tried to recall what Simon had told her, that Nick needed something. Or someone. “You seem a bit more at ease. Has it been an adjustment being here? I take it you don’t spend much time socializing.”
He stared at her a moment, long enough that discomfort snaked beneath her skin. “No, I do not. I find it tedious.”
There was the Duke of Ice—how she hated that name!—who’d disappointed Hannah. “Then why did you come?”
“As a favor to Simon—Romsey.”
“So you don’t wish to be here?”
“Not at all. In fact, I plan to leave tomorrow.”
Hannah would be crushed. As horribly as he was behaving, she would take his departure as a mark of failure. “I wish you wouldn’t. My friend Mrs. Linford has planned a marvelous party. Perhaps if you let down your guard, or whatever it is you’ve erected over the past eight years, you might enjoy yourself.”
They stood perhaps a foot apart, but he leaned slightly closer. She caught his scent of leather and clove. “Don’t speak to me as if we are friends. Don’t even speak to me as if we are acquainted.”
Her heart beat faster in response to his ire. “But we are.”
“The man you knew doesn’t exist anymore.”
Anger and sadness coiled inside her and fought for release. “I’m beginning to see that. When I saw that you were the Duke of Ice, I was astonished. But now I see how cold you are.” She edged closer, her yearning for him overtaking the other emotions he’d wrought. “What happened to you, Nick?”
He flinched when she said his name. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
It was agony to see him like this, but maybe he was right. Maybe the man she loved was gone, and she’d have to accept that. Except Simon had said he needed people who cared about him and that he’d maybe forgotten how to live. Perhaps coming here had been the first step in living again—whether he knew that or not.
Violet withdrew slightly and stiffened her spine. She looked him square in the eye. “You’ve come here for a reason. Whether it’s to support your friend or something else, it doesn’t matter. You’re here, and you made a commitment to attend the party. If you leave, you’ll devastate my dear friend Mrs. Linford. She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t want you leaving on my account. I’ll stay away from you if you promise to stay.” It was the opposite of what Simon had asked her to do, but Nick had just told her they couldn’t be friends.
His gaze flickered with something, but she couldn’t say what it was. She could say what it wasn’t. Since his arrival yesterday, he’d had a dark, frigid, rather practiced stare. This was something else.
“I’ll think about it,” he said at last. Then he pivoted and stalked from the room.
Violet realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a rush. A moment later, Simon joined her.
“That looked rather tense,” he
said quietly. “Are you all right?”
She appreciated his concern and again wondered how anyone could think he’d purposely killed his wife. “I’m fine. Your friend, on the other hand, is awful. How do you continue to stand by him?”
Simon shrugged. “Because he needs me. And I need him. In some ways, we’re all each other has.”
“Well, you have me now—as a friend.”
A smile settled over his face, lighting his entire expression. “I am fortunate indeed. Thank you.”
Irritated over her encounter with Nick, Violet was pleased to talk of something else. She glanced out toward the various groupings about the room. “I daresay your fortunes have changed, and I’m delighted to see it. Hannah has planned dancing for this evening. Will you stay?”
“Certainly, though I wonder if I ought to persuade Nick to return. He’s leaving tomorrow, so he should come dance before he retreats into self-banishment once more.”
“He may not be leaving,” Violet said. “I am optimistic I convinced him to stay. After I promised I’d leave him alone.” She turned her gaze sharply to Simon. “What do you mean, ‘self-banishment’?”
Simon barely winced, but Violet caught it. “He just prefers his solitude, that’s all.” He cocked his head to the side and regarded her intently for a moment. “I’m pleased to see that you convinced him to stay. I know you said you’d leave him alone, but again I would encourage you not to do so. The fact that you changed his mind is a massive shift.”
“He was quite clear in his animosity. He said we weren’t friends. Or acquaintances even.”
Simon waved his hand. “He’s just being beastly.”
“I don’t know him as well as you.” That admission pained her, but it was true. She ought to know him better than anyone, but she’d relinquished that opportunity long ago. “He does seem to enjoy his solitude and frigidity. We can’t help him if he doesn’t want to be helped.”
“And that’s what I’m saying. I think he does want to be helped, even if he doesn’t know it yet. I’ve been trying to persuade him to reengage in Society with me for years. He’s always refused me.” Simon’s eyes gleamed with purpose. “Until now.”