The Duke of Ice

by Burke, Darcy

  “Quite.” Her brief smile was both self-deprecating and tinged with irritation. “I tried to tell him that we are merely acquaintances. I apologize for the unwanted attention.”

  And yet here they were, meeting in plain sight once again.

  “I’ve never cared what people said or thought about me,” Nick said. “I suppose that’s what happens when you grow up expecting a life of anonymity only to find yourself at the center of Society.”

  “I don’t care either,” she said, lifting her chin. “Much to my parents’ frustration. But I felt I should caution you—that’s why I’ve been looking for you the past couple of days—my parents are organizing a dinner party next week and plan to extend you an invitation. I would advise you to leave London before they can trap you.” She delivered this advice with a tone of utmost gravity.

  He laughed at her dire warning. “Would they attempt to snare me in a parson’s trap in some scandalous fashion?”

  She exhaled. “I wish I could laugh and assure you that would never happen. However, I fear my parents will sink to any level they feel they must to secure a duke, particularly when they realize there is no truth to the rumor in the paper.”

  He felt a rush of compassion for her—that was an emotion he didn’t mind, particularly when it alleviated his own pain. “How awful for you to have to live in this way. I don’t suppose you’ve considered running away?”

  Her brows lifted briefly. “I have, in fact. Alas, my purse is not large enough to support more than a few days’ journey. And where would I go?”

  He considered her question seriously, but before he could answer, she said, “If I fled alone, I would be ruined, no matter where I went.”

  “If you were in the company of a gentleman you wouldn’t mind marrying, it’s not a bad plan.”

  Now she laughed. “I don’t know such a gentleman, save you, I’m afraid.” She sobered, and color bloomed in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to suggest we should run away together. I only meant that I like you, and you seem to like me—for me, not for my fortune or my beauty.” Her lips twisted with disgust, and she looked away.

  He edged closer to her, speaking quietly. “I do like you.” He’d been about to say that she’d find a gentleman with whom she felt comfortable, whom she could maybe even love. But then he remembered that she didn’t care about such things, particularly marriage. Just as he didn’t care about them—or didn’t want to anyway.

  She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Rather than run away, I’ve been thinking I ought to find someone I can marry, someone who will accept me for who I am and not some pretty prize to be won. I truly didn’t mean to...snare you; however, it occurs to me that we may be of service to one another.”

  He suspected he knew her intent, but needed to be sure. “In what way?”

  “You need a wife, I presume, since you’ve a title, and I’d prefer a husband like you. Your lack of ill-behavior and display of extreme equanimity is most appealing.”

  Nick swallowed a laugh. “I’ve never been described in such a manner.” He supposed it fit, however.

  Her brow arched in elegant inquisition. “Am I inaccurate in my estimation of you?”

  Once upon a time, she would have been, but she’d captured the man he was now quite well. Except he had behaved poorly in recent days—he’d allowed a relationship with Violet that he never should have in the interest of soothing his own pain and regret. Self-loathing burned his throat like acid.

  “No,” he choked the answer out.

  Her shoulders dipped in relief. “Would such a union be of interest to you?” she asked softly.

  Finally, he glimpsed a way to move forward and make a complete break from his past. He could set Violet free so that she could find a bright and happy love that would bring her joy for all the days of her life.

  Nick needed to be completely clear with Miss Kingman, now that he understood his limitations. “I wouldn’t be a storybook husband. You cannot expect me to fall in love. In fact, I will insist that we keep such emotion from our union.” He had to. If he wanted love, if he wanted to take that risk, he’d run back to Bath—to Violet—this instant. Only, she wouldn’t be happy. She’d made it clear she loved the Nick of old, not the frigid man he’d become.

  “You want a Duchess of Ice,” she summarized perfectly. “That appeals to me, actually. Indeed, I would prefer not to have children, but I understand you require an heir. I would only ask that we wait.”

  She was precisely the type of wife he needed. “I should beget an heir, but as I’ve said before, I have male relatives in line. I have no quarrel with your terms.” His chest tightened, threatening to choke him. He struggled to take a deep breath.

  “And I agree to yours.” She tipped her head to the side and whispered, “Did we just negotiate a marriage contract?”

  His body tensed—his mind warring with his heart. “I think we might have.”

  “My father won’t believe it.”

  Nick’s heart thudded, making him wonder if Miss Kingman could hear it. Of course not. As loud as it seemed to him, the voice in his head was just as deafening, insisting that this was the right course of action, the logical course. “He will when I tell him in person,” Nick said. “Should we go now?” Then his heart wouldn’t be able to change his mind, not without causing a scandal.

  “If you wish.”

  “I’m agreeable to whatever you prefer.”

  Her lips curved up. “Is this how it’s going to be? We’ll be insufferably polite and deferential?”

  “Would that be bad?” he mused. She shook her head and he said, “I don’t think so either. Lead the way, if you will.” He gestured for her to precede him, and she kicked her horse into a trot toward the gate.

  His heart clenched in a hard, fast spasm as he realized what he’d done. Miss Kingman was what he needed—a Duchess of Ice, just as she’d said—even if Violet was who he wanted.

  Yes, he wanted her, but he wasn’t the man she wanted. He was damaged and afraid, and she deserved so much more. For both their sakes, he had to walk away. She ought to have a happy future, and he couldn’t give it to her.

  For that reason alone, he would let her go.

  * * *

  The past five days had been a frenzy of social events, all designed to stir excitement for what was being touted as the wedding of the decade—if Lady Kingman was to be believed. For Nick, it was all torture since he’d awakened in a cold sweat the night after agreeing to marry Miss Kingman. He feared he’d made a terrible mistake, and he’d spent the intervening days alternately feeling ill and drinking—perhaps too much.

  Today he would tell his parents-in-law-to-be that there would be no more balls, routs, dinner parties, or levees. The wedding was to take place three weeks hence, and until then, Nick planned to keep to himself.

  “What the fucking hell have you done?” Simon’s shouted question preceded his entrance into Nick’s study.

  Bexham followed on his heels, his face pinched with distress. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, he wouldn’t allow me to announce him.”

  “Who needs an announcement when he’s bellowed his presence for all of London to hear?” Nick waved his butler away. “It’s all right.”

  Simon moved to stand in front of Nick’s desk and glared down at him. “Explain.” His jaw was tight, his teeth clearly clenched behind lips pale with anger.

  Nick sat back in his chair and rested his hands on the arms. “I presume you’re speaking of my engagement?”

  “To Diana bloody Kingman! Have you lost your mind?”

  It was as succinct—and accurate—an assessment as Nick could’ve made. “Yes.”

  “Explain,” Simon repeated before lowering himself into a chair.

  How could he do that without exposing his weakness, his utter stupidity? “I went to Bath to reconcile with Violet, but it didn’t work. Miss Kingman proposed marriage, and I accepted.” Like a complete fool.

  Simon got up and stalked to
the opposite end of the room. “If I still drank spirits, I’d down an entire bottle of whiskey,” he muttered, but Nick still heard him. Simon turned around, the anger gone from his face and replaced with sorrow. “If you tried with Violet and it truly didn’t work, well then, I have no hope left. I would’ve bet my last pound that you were written in the stars.”

  Nick stood and walked around his desk. He leaned on the edge. “You are a hopeless romantic.”

  “Guilty.” He took a few steps back toward Nick. “What happened in Bath?”

  Nick grasped the edge of the desk on either side of his thighs. He didn’t want to discuss this. “What happened doesn’t really matter.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’ll ask Violet about it when I visit her.”

  Bloody hell. “You’re going to visit her?”

  “I’d planned to, yes, and now, because of your idiocy, I think it’s vital. She’ll be devastated, I expect.”

  Devastated. Nick winced, his insides twisting painfully, which was no less than he deserved. He’d written to her as soon as he’d returned home from speaking to Diana’s father. She hadn’t responded. So yes, she was likely devastated. Or furious. Probably both.

  “You assume she wasn’t the one to break things off.”

  Simon glared at him again. “I’d wager my last pound that she would never do that. She’s loved you for eight years and lived with the agony of her mistake. There’s no way she would’ve hurt you again.” He studied Nick briefly. “If you can even be hurt. You are the bloody Duke of Ice.”

  The familiar nausea from the last few days rose in Nick’s gut. “This is not a revelation to anyone.”

  “It is to me. And to Violet, I expect. We know the real you, who you’re capable of being.”

  “Who I used to be. That person died with Maurice. And again with Uncle Gil. Yet again with Jacinda and then with Elias. Finally with—” Anguish tightened his body. “Never mind.”

  Simon advanced on him, his brow dark, his eyes narrowed. “Whom did it die with?”

  He was going to find out when he got to Bath anyway. “Violet.” Nick cleared the cobwebs from his throat. “She was in an accident. She was unconscious for quite some time and ill. I had to leave her to attend the princess’s fun—”

  “You left her?”

  “She’s fine now.” The physician had arrived back in London a few days ago and reported to Nick. Violet had been weak but was recovering.

  Simon goggled at him and ran a hand through his hair, sending it straight up from the top of his head. “This is unimaginable.” He barely waited for Nick’s nod before raging on. “How did you determine you wouldn’t suit? If you’d truly tried, as you say you did, I simply can’t believe that’s true.” He moved close enough to Nick to jab him in the chest, which he did. “What did you fucking do?”

  The emotion he’d struggled to bury since Violet’s accident erupted out of him. He shoved Simon, sending him stumbling backward. “I was a coward! She got hurt—badly—and I feared she would die. I cannot go through that again.”

  “Because you love her.”

  “Desperately.” The pain was so keen that he doubled over, sucking in a deep breath to try to right his equilibrium. “So desperately,” he whispered brokenly.

  Simon’s arm came around his shoulders, and he guided Nick to a high-backed chair near the fireplace.

  Nick sank down onto the cushion, his head bent as tears tracked from his eyes and dropped to the carpet. The wetness on his face was so foreign, and yet it felt so damned good.

  Simon stood at his side, his hand a comfort on Nick’s shoulder. After a few minutes, Simon coughed. “I understand your fear—I really do. But why on earth you thought marrying Miss Kingman was an acceptable solution is beyond my comprehension. You’ve made a goddamned mess of things.”

  Yes, he had. He’d spent the last five days torturing himself but not seeing a way to fix it.

  Nick wiped his hand over his face and leaned his head back against the chair. Staring at the ceiling, he gave in to the anguish, realizing—too late—that the loss he’d tried to avoid had found him anyway. He’d been a fool to think he could control his feelings.

  “Violet won’t want me. She loved who I was eight years ago, not this shell of a man I am now.”

  “You are not a shell.” Simon tipped his head from side to side, reconsidering. “Perhaps you are a bit of a shell, but I think you’re filling in the holes again. It may take time, but there is no one better suited to help you with that than Violet.”

  Nick looked at his friend. “What if she doesn’t want to?”

  “Then you’ll be in a sorry state, and I’ll help you pick up the pieces. But she will want to. She loves you. And you love her.” Simon squared his shoulders. “That just leaves the matter of Miss Kingman. Allow me to handle that.”

  Nick eyed him warily. “How? She doesn’t deserve ruination.”

  Simon’s nostrils flared. “Because I’ll ruin her? I suppose that is what I’m known for.”

  Nick flinched, his shoulders twitching. “That was a poor word choice. You are not known for that.”

  “Not for ruining young women, but why not expand my depravity?” Simon shrugged, as if his reputation didn’t matter at all.

  “This isn’t a joking matter, Simon. For me to cry off will cast Miss Kingman in an unfavorable light.”

  “I imagine her parents will be furious,” Simon said.

  No doubt. And given what Nick knew of her circumstances, she’d have even less choice than she’d had before he’d rescued her. Nick frowned at Simon. “They may try to force her into something terrible. She’ll want to get away, I imagine.”

  “Leave it to me,” Simon said. His eyes glinted with determination, and he squeezed Nick’s shoulder before letting go. “Now tell me what you’re going to do about Violet. Might I suggest going immediately to Bath and telling her what a daft prick you’ve been and begging her forgiveness?”

  Nick sat forward in the chair, a combination of anticipation and dread thrumming through his veins. “I’ve botched this rather horribly. She may not want me.”

  “She may not. Will you take the risk?”

  The pain of his losses reared in his mind, but he shoved it aside and found the joy he’d shared with Violet. “Absolutely.”

  Simon’s lips spread into a satisfied smile. “Go. Trust me to handle Miss Kingman.”

  There was no one Nick trusted more. Other than Violet, and he’d done a terrible job of actually doing that. He should have told her what he was feeling, and he damn well shouldn’t have cowered in London. “Thank you. I’m not sure I deserve a friend like you.”

  “I told you long ago that we deserved each other,” Simon said dryly. He walked to the door but looked back at Nick before he left. “Give my love to Violet.”

  Nick nodded, his gaze fixed on the hearth long after Simon had quit the room. Yes, he’d give Violet Simon’s love, but only after he offered her his first. He could only hope she’d want it.

  Chapter 18

  “How are you feeling?” Chalke asked as Violet came in from the garden. It was quite cold, even for the first week of December, and she wondered if it might snow.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She looked forward to the day when no one asked her that, but realized it was probably still a long way off. She’d expected extra hovering today from Chalke and the rest of the staff since it was her first day alone.

  Hannah had departed yesterday after staying a fortnight, and thankfully, Violet’s mother had left shortly after Hannah’s arrival. She had, unfortunately, vowed to return and drag Violet “home” for holiday celebrations until Twelfth Night. Violet was still considering how she might avoid such a horror.

  Chalke took Violet’s thick woolen cape from her shoulders. “Will you nap? That might be a good idea.”

  Violet rubbed her hands together and walked to the fireplace to warm herself.

  “Oh! I think you need a toddy. Yes, t
hat will be just the thing.” Chalke’s eyes glowed as she clucked her tongue and quickly departed.

  It wouldn’t matter if Violet didn’t want a toddy; Chalke would bring it nonetheless. As it happened, she did want a toddy. Preferably with extra spirits to dull the ache of betrayal.

  She closed her eyes as she held her hands—palms out—to the fire. She’d memorized the letter Nick had sent to inform her of his betrothal to Diana.

  Dear Violet,

  It is with great regret that I inform you that we will not suit. I find I cannot return to the days of my youth. I am far too changed, as you well know.

  My engagement to Miss Diana Kingman will be announced tomorrow. I never meant to cause you pain. You deserve to be happy and to also be unencumbered by the past. I hope you will see that this is best for both of us.

  It gives me great joy to know that you are well and whole. I prayed for you to be safe and am grateful that my prayers were finally answered.

  I will always think of you fondly. Be well.

  Nick

  She’d dissected the letter in her mind a hundred times. He likely believed she’d recovered because he’d decided to leave her. Or, as Hannah had insisted, he’d seized the opportunity for revenge—to revisit upon her what she’d done to him eight years ago. In her angriest moments, Violet agreed. However, she knew better.

  He was afraid. She’d seen how the princess’s death had affected him and could only imagine how her own accident and near death had likely sent him over the edge. He’d done the only thing he could—he’d run. She’d foolishly believed he would come back to her. Instead, he’d kept on going.

  It was one thing to say they didn’t suit, but to wed Diana? He didn’t love her—of that Violet was certain. And she suspected that was precisely why he chose her.

  She opened her eyes and narrowed them at the flames. None of it mattered now. She could replay the events in her mind, hoping for clearer understanding, but the outcome would always be the same. Nick was gone, and he wasn’t somewhere she could follow.