The Duke of Ice

by Burke, Darcy

“It isn’t. Not when you love him now, and he’s here.”

  He also didn’t want anything to do with her—save helping Simon. That was assuming he still wanted to do that. After his behavior today, she wasn’t sure. “Promise me you’ll leave it alone. I’m fine. I’ve made my peace with loving him.”

  Hannah frowned. “I think it’s a mistake. Fate brought you together.”

  Violet laughed, but it sounded a bit hollow. “You brought us together.”

  “I’m happy to help destiny,” Hannah said with a smile. “I just want you to be happy, Violet. You deserve it more than anyone I know.”

  “I am happy,” Violet assured her. She turned toward the house, ready to put this conversation and all the uncomfortable memories it had aroused behind her. “What I’d like to do is make sure Nick is happy too, and I’m fairly certain that doesn’t involve me.”

  Chapter 8

  Nick suffered through the victory luncheon, and every time his attention drifted toward Violet, he steeled himself and took a drink of wine. As a result, he was feeling far more relaxed—and pleasant—than he had been at the archery field.

  Which wasn’t to say he’d forgotten why his mood had soured. He blamed the time he’d spent with the toxic Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law. But he couldn’t ignore Violet’s role. Rather, his reaction to Violet.

  Simon was seated next to her, which hadn’t helped his disposition. His friend couldn’t be romantically interested in her, could he? If so, Nick might have to say something. He couldn’t bear seeing them together.

  But what if it made them happy? Would he want to stop that?

  He reached for another drink of wine and was disappointed to find that his glass was empty. Thankfully, the luncheon was nearly finished.

  Afterward, the guests would disperse, and Nick would retreat to his room. Mayhap he’d stay there through dinner too.

  As they stood, his hostess, who’d been seated to his left, leaned close. “The younger set is meeting in the ballroom for some games this afternoon. You simply must attend.” Mrs. Linford gazed up at him imploringly.

  He wanted to tell her that he mustn’t do anything he didn’t feel like, but she looked so eager, so expectant, that the words died on his tongue. Since when had he started caring about offending other people?

  Instead, he challenged her. “Why?”

  Surprised by his question, she jerked back slightly, blinking. “Because… It will be incredibly diverting. And you won a boon at the contest. This will be your chance to claim it.” She smiled broadly. “See? You must.”

  All the other guests had filed from the dining room, leaving him alone with Mrs. Linford. Perhaps seeing that he was still undecided, she cast her head to the side. “I am a dear friend of Violet’s, as you may know. She also won a boon this morning, and it was her idea to have the games since we can’t go outside for bowls.” The rain had started just after the archery contest and hadn’t relented. “It would mean so much to me if you could support her endeavor. She’s had such misfortune, you see.” She brought her hand to her mouth as her eyes widened slightly. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Curiosity seized hold of his judgment. He ought to go up to his room as he’d planned, but he suddenly couldn’t move. “What sort of misfortune?”

  “I shouldn’t say.” She waved her hand but lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You’ll keep this between us?” At his nod, she continued. “She had a rather unhappy marriage—several children she couldn’t carry—and parties like this bring some joy into her lonely, solitary life.”

  She was lonely?

  What an asinine question. She was alone. Except that didn’t mean she was lonely. He wasn’t lonely.

  Her loneliness was only a part of it. More concerning was what she’d endured. When she’d left Bath without a word, he’d gone to her aunt and uncle, who’d informed him she was gone. He’d asked for her direction, but Violet’s aunt had told him to forget about her. Her uncle had been far kinder. He’d seemed genuinely sorry when he’d informed Nick that she was to wed Viscount Pendleton. He’d spent a great deal of energy wishing her unhappiness and misfortune. It seemed his wishes had come to fruition. Yes, he was fucking cursed.

  “I’m sorry to hear what she suffered. I’d hoped her marriage was happy.” That was a lie, but in retrospect, given his own travails, he would’ve preferred she found contentment.

  “As I said, I shouldn’t have revealed her secrets. You won’t say anything, will you?” Mrs. Linford wrung her hands.

  “I will not.”

  She exhaled with relief, her features softening. “And you’ll come to the ballroom?”

  It seemed he must. “Yes.”

  She smiled warmly, and they left together. “The ballroom is this way. It’s not really a ballroom but a very large reception room. We’ve used it for a ball or two.”

  When they arrived, the room was already inhabited by, as Mrs. Linford had termed them, the younger set.

  “Well, I’ll see you for dinner, then.” She turned to go.

  “You aren’t staying?”

  “I wish I could, but I need to see to the other guests. A hostess’s duties are never finished, I’m afraid.” With a slight wave of her hand, she departed in a swirl of bottle-green skirts.

  Nick stepped into the room, and the conversation came to a halt.

  “It’s about time,” Simon said with mock impatience. At least, Nick thought he was pretending. “Tell us, Lady Pendleton, what do you have planned?”

  Violet looked around at everyone gathered, her gaze passing quickly over Nick. “I thought we might play some games. We can start with Kiss the Nun.”

  One of the young women gasped and brought her hand to her mouth to cover a giggle.

  “Since it’s my boon, I will choose the nun and the grate.” She peered at the others, her brow furrowed. “I choose Lady Lavinia as the grate and Miss Kingman as the nun.” Now she stared directly at Nick.

  Hell and the devil, she wasn’t going to choose him as the penitent, was she? He hadn’t played this game in ages, but he vaguely remembered it. The penitent tried to kiss the nun’s cheek through the grate, which would be Lady Lavinia’s hand.

  “Duke,” Violet said, “since you won the other boon, would you like to choose the penitent?” Her gaze was expectant, and she seemed to be trying to communicate something.

  He floundered for a minute, his mind searching until he stupidly realized what she was trying to accomplish. “I choose Romsey.” He turned toward his friend with a bland smile.

  “Of course you do,” Simon muttered. He pivoted toward the ladies and offered a courtly bow. “My pleasure.”

  Violet dragged a chair to the center of the room, and one of the other gentlemen, Mr. Seaver, placed another beside it. Miss Kingman took one seat, and Lady Lavinia took the other.

  Simon moved to stand close to them. “Shall we begin?”

  Lady Lavinia splayed her hand against Miss Kingman’s cheek.

  “Alas these bars, these cruel, cruel bars!” Simon wailed, putting a great depth of emotion into the recitation.

  Laughter filled the room, and Simon grinned.

  Oh, this was truly brilliant of Violet. Nick was glad he’d allowed Mrs. Linford to talk him into coming.

  Miss Kingman fluttered her lashes up at Simon. “They’re not so narrow, but you may bestow on me a kiss—one parting kiss!”

  As soon as she uttered the word kiss, Simon leaned down and tried to kiss her cheek. Lady Lavinia closed her fingers, and he kissed them instead.

  “Take this for your bad management!” she cried, grabbing his ear and giving it a tug.

  “Ow!” Simon said, rubbing his ear.

  Lady Lavinia blanched. “I’m sorry!”

  Simon pressed a kiss to Miss Kingman’s cheek. “Ha! I win!”

  Miss Kingman frowned at him. “You don’t. You’re supposed to wait until I say, ‘One parting kiss’ again.”

  Simon looked around at everyon
e else. “Is that right?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Mr. Adair, a lanky young fellow with light brown hair, said with a laugh. “Guess you’ll have to try again.”

  Simon sighed with resignation. “Again, then.”

  “I really am sorry about your ear,” Lady Lavinia said.

  “I may have exaggerated my hurt in order to win.”

  “Bravo!” the third gentleman, Mr. Woodward, called out.

  Lady Lavinia narrowed her eyes. “You cheated.”

  His eyes sparked with mischief. “I pressed my advantage.”

  Nick couldn’t help but laugh. Everyone turned to look at him in surprise, reminding him that he rarely laughed. But it was Violet’s attention that seared through him. There was a glint of appreciation in her gaze, and a smile teased her mouth. He was captivated.

  “Anyway, it did hurt a little,” Simon said, straightening.

  Miss Kingman shook her head at him, but her half smile said she found the situation as amusing as everyone else. “One parting kiss!”

  Simon leapt into action and tried to land a kiss against her cheek. Unfortunately, he was foiled again by Lady Lavinia. She repeated the phrase, “Take this for your bad management!” but this time barely touched his ear.

  Even so, Simon fell to the ground and pretended agony, grabbing his head and moaning aloud. This was met with sharp laughter and applause.

  Lady Lavinia finished her script this time, glaring down at him. “How dare you waste your kisses on cold iron?”

  “Are they wasted if you enjoy them?” he asked archly as he rolled to his side, then clambered to his feet. The other gentlemen snickered, and Nick nearly snorted.

  Lady Lavinia blushed, and Simon surveyed the scene with his hands on his hips.

  “I think I must try a different strategy.” He knelt beside Miss Kingman. “Is there a rule against this as well?”

  She turned her head and started, perhaps realizing how close he was. Too close for propriety’s sake, but these sorts of games pushed the boundaries of acceptability. Which was why they were so entertaining.

  “No,” Miss Kingman said. She straightened her spine against the back of the chair and looked forward. “One parting kiss!”

  Though he was closer, Simon failed again to put his lips to her cheek, kissing Lady Lavinia’s knuckles instead. Miss Kingman recited the words once more, “One parting kiss!”

  He groaned in frustration. “How much longer must I keep this up?”

  Miss Kingman turned a haughty gaze toward him, playing her role to perfection. “Until you kiss me.”

  “Oh, I’ll kiss you all right.” He looked at her with determination before kneeling beside her once more. “Again.”

  She stared at him a moment before turning her head forward. “One parting kiss!”

  Simon moved quickly, his body arcing in front of hers. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. Miss Kingman’s eyes rounded, but it was over almost immediately. Simon jumped to his feet with a cry of victory. “That was fair, was it not?”

  Lady Lavinia shook her head but was laughing in spite of herself. “You’re supposed to kiss her cheek.”

  “It was never going to work that way.” Simon gave Lady Lavinia a stern look, but the tremor of his lips revealed his amusement. “You’re a menace, grate.”

  Lady Lavinia curtsied. “I think that means I win. Do I get to be the nun now?” She looked to Violet.

  “I’ve no objection. Miss Colton, will you be her grate?”

  Simon cleared his throat. “And I choose Mr. Seaver to be the penitent.” Simon pivoted to Violet. “It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

  “I see no reason why not.”

  Mr. Seaver went to even greater lengths to try to kiss Lady Lavinia’s cheek. After six attempts, he told Miss Colton there was a spider on her head. She shrieked and jumped up, leaving him a clear path to kiss Lady Lavinia.

  Everyone was still consumed with laughter when Miss Kingman suggested they play Kiss if You Can next.

  “I’m not sure I remember that one,” Simon said, wiping his eyes.

  Nick was glad he’d asked, because he didn’t remember it either.

  “A gentleman and a lady will kneel with their backs to each other,” Miss Kingman explained. “When the crier says ‘make ready,’ the lady looks over her left shoulder and the gentleman over his right. At the word present, he will lean forward to kiss her cheek, and at the direction fire, he will try to kiss her, but she may evade his endeavor.”

  “How will we decide the pairs?” Mr. Adair asked.

  Violet went to a table. “I brought cards. High cards drawn by each sex will face off against each other?”

  “Or not, as the game goes,” Simon joked.

  “An excellent plan,” Nick said, joining her at the table where she’d picked up the deck of cards. “Do you want me to shuffle?”

  She handed him the cards, and her fingers brushed against his palm. Her touch danced through him, awakening parts of him that had lain dormant for far too long.

  He shuffled the deck in his hand several times while Simon and Mr. Adair moved the chairs out of the way. When he was finished, Nick set the cards on the table.

  Violet gestured to the table. “If everyone would care to take a card…”

  The ladies drew first. Violet went last, her gaze meeting Nick’s as she pulled her card. Her features didn’t betray her fortune. It was really too bad that she didn’t like to play cards—she’d be a formidable adversary.

  The gentlemen went next, and Nick, like Violet, drew last. A king, which meant he’d likely be first up. He tensed waiting for everyone to reveal their card.

  “Won’t be me going first,” Seaver said. “I’ve the two of clubs.”

  He tossed his card on the table. Everyone else revealed theirs, and Nick’s eye immediately went to Violet’s—the queen. He nearly laughed, but checked to see if any of the other women had queens. They didn’t, and no kings either.

  “Looks like it’s you and Lady Pendleton,” Simon said. His voice carried a hint of something.

  Nick snapped his head toward his friend and detected the glimmer of a smile in his gaze. He was enjoying this. He was playing matchmaker. And he had his sights set on Nick and Violet. Bloody hell.

  Nick wanted to be angry, but his pull toward Violet was too strong. He’d felt it last night and again today when Simon had asked if it would be distressing for him to pursue her. Nick had suppressed his reaction—he’d been jealous. Shockingly, blood-boilingly, desperately jealous.

  The realization shook him to the core.

  “Who’s to be the crier?” Simon asked.

  “Why not Mr. Seaver since he won Kiss the Nun?” Adair suggested.

  With everyone in agreement, Violet and Nick moved to the center of the room.

  “Is this awkward?” she whispered.

  “No.” His pulse quickened. Should he kiss her or should he fail?

  His mind screamed the latter. And really, that was for the best. Jealousy aside, he and Violet had no future, not when their past was so painful.

  And yet when they knelt with their backs to each other, he caught her scent of rose and an earthy spice. It was wholly feminine yet slightly wild. He hadn’t smelled a rose in the past eight years without thinking of her. His body reacted, heating at her proximity.

  “Make ready,” Seaver said.

  Nick looked over his right shoulder and felt the air move as she looked over her left.

  “Present.”

  Nick leaned close to her cheek. He could feel her warmth, and his skin tingled.

  “Fire.”

  He moved closer, but she sprang up. Instinctively, he reached for her, his arm curling about her waist. He pulled her back down. To stop her from hitting the floor, he spun to his back and sprawled, bringing her down on top of him. He cupped the side of her face and kissed her, his lips sliding over hers for a brief but delicious moment.

  “The cheek,” she murmured, her gaze
locked with his.

  He leaned up and brushed his mouth against the soft flesh of her cheek. His lips lingered perhaps a second too long, but he didn’t care. Desire coursed through him, and for the first time in years, he felt alive.

  “Well done!” Simon called, applauding. The others joined in. “Shall we draw again?”

  Nick rolled Violet to her side, his arm cradling her from fully touching the floor. Her eyes never left his, the intensity in their brown-green depths stoking his hunger.

  He took her hands and reluctantly stood, drawing her up with him. She took her hands from his, but didn’t look away.

  “You don’t need to draw for this round.” Simon came toward them. “But you do need to move,” he whispered near Nick’s ear.

  Shaken from his rapturous stupor, Nick moved to the side of the room. Violet followed him but didn’t stand too close as the next players—Miss Colton and Mr. Woodward—took their places.

  Nick stole a glance at her profile and wondered if the kiss had affected her as much as it had him. Then he asked himself why it would matter. As he’d determined earlier, they had no future because of their past.

  What about the present?

  Nick wanted to ignore the voice even as his body screamed for release—for her.

  But he was cursed. For that reason, he would leave her alone.

  * * *

  Following dinner that night, Violet made her way to the drawing room with Hannah. Dinner had been the typical affair, with most of the conversation driven by Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law. Violet had spent far too much time watching Nick and thinking of his kiss. Over and over and over again. Though brief, it had far surpassed her eight-year-old memories.

  “Just two more full days,” Hannah said as they neared the drawing room doorway. “It’s evenings like this that I am glad the party is only a week and not a fortnight. I’m exhausted.”

  “And your mother went home this afternoon?” Violet asked. Hannah’s mother, Mrs. Parker, liked to come for a portion of the party, but since Hannah’s children were staying at her house near Bath, she was eager to return to them.

  “Yes, but I have you here for support.” Her eyes lit, and she tugged Violet’s arm, leading her to the side of the doorway. “Before we go in, tell me how this afternoon went. I’ve only heard murmurs, but it seems like it was great fun.”