The Duke of Ice Page 13

  When Violet and Simon were a few steps from the bottom, someone whispered, “Did he push her?” Violet recognized that shrill voice as belonging to Lady Nixon.

  Simon’s entire frame went completely stiff. Violet could feel the discomfort radiating from him. She squeezed his arm and threw a malevolent look toward the viscountess. “He did not. And I won’t tolerate such nasty rumors.”

  Lady Nixon gave her an imperious stare. “There is no rumor. I merely asked a question.”

  “Which I’ve answered,” Violet said coolly. “Indeed, the Duke saved me from a nasty fall. I’m quite fortunate he was there to rescue me.” She turned her head to Simon and smiled. He looked at her in confusion and then abruptly turned his head away. Offering a bright smile, she said, “Shall we continue our tour?”

  He nodded, but turned her back toward the west entrance. “I need to go.” His voice was small, strangled.

  “No, we should continue the tour as if nothing happened.” She exhaled in frustration. “Nothing did happen.”

  “You did almost fall down the stairs. And I didn’t save you.”

  She looked at him again, hating the darkness in his tone. “Nor did you push me. I slipped.” She paused, her fingers digging into his arm. “You mustn’t blame yourself. I won’t allow it.”

  “You lied. You said you tripped and that I saved you.”

  “I’ll say whatever I need to in order to keep those harpies at bay. You don’t deserve their condemnation.” He kept walking, and she continued at his side. “Nick and I will make this right—don’t worry.”

  “Nick?” He glanced toward her. “You and Nick are going to fix this.” His skepticism weighed the air around them. “You can’t find your way to be together, but you can join forces on my behalf? I find that difficult to believe.”

  “We’ve actually been doing it all week. The ballroom games were my idea. I wanted everyone to see the man I see.”

  They’d reached the end of the nave, and Simon took her hand from his arm. He gave her a sad smile. “The man you see is a façade. Or a shell. Or something in between. You can’t fix this. Nick can’t fix this. No one can.” He turned and left, his long legs carrying him from the cathedral as if the very devil were chasing him out.

  Violet watched him go, her throat tightening with sadness. That had been an unmitigated disaster. Nothing was turning out as she’d planned or hoped. She wished she could run from the cathedral after him.

  Instead, she decided to take advantage of her surroundings and pray.

  Chapter 10

  The buzz of conversation as soon as Simon and Violet had walked half the distance of the nave grew to the point that Nick was forced to walk away from it. Or maybe he just wanted to go after Simon.

  What the hell had just happened? His first impression at seeing Simon bent over Violet was that they were having some sort of intimate moment. Simon’s face had reflected concern, and he’d touched her in a way that Nick hadn’t dared—not in eight years anyway.

  But then he acknowledged they wouldn’t be engaged in anything romantic in plain sight on the bloody landing of a staircase in a cathedral. One of those gossiping old hens had the right of it—Violet had fallen. However, there was no way in hell Simon had pushed her.

  Especially given the way she’d leapt to his defense. She’d clutched his arm, holding him with great care. Seeing them together sent tendrils of jealousy curling through him.

  He watched Violet and Simon stop at the end of the nave. Simon said something, then left. Nick didn’t think before stalking toward where Violet now stood alone.

  His intent hadn’t been to speak to her, but to follow Simon. Nevertheless, he stopped at her side. “What the hell just happened?”

  “You saw. You heard.” Her voice was cool, detached.

  “Yes, I saw. Is there something between the two of you?”

  She turned to face him, her eyes blazing. “That is none of your business. Your friend is in pain. You heard what those awful women said.”

  Yes, he had. He needed to go after Simon. He strode from the cathedral and went to his horse, unsurprised to see that Simon’s was already gone. He set off in pursuit, racing out of town toward the Linfords’ manor. As he crested a hill nearly halfway to his destination, he caught sight of Simon’s mount near a slender brook.

  Slowing his horse, Nick veered off the road and guided the beast toward the water. Simon sat on a rock, his gaze trained at some indeterminate point beyond the stream.

  Nick dismounted, his thoughts jumbled. He didn’t really believe there was something between Simon and Violet, and she was right—his friend needed him right now.

  Simon didn’t turn his head. “Why did you follow me? I’m fine.”

  “It should be obvious. I’m your friend. I can’t imagine you’re fine.”

  “I’m as fine as you are.” Simon stood from the rock. He clasped his hat with one hand, and the wind stirred his hair. “You’re turning your back on something most people would die for.”

  Nick knew how much Simon had loved his wife, how badly he missed her, and how devastating her death had been. Or still was, it seemed. The torment in his friend’s gaze flayed him. “You mean you,” he said quietly, and he was afraid the wind had carried the words away.

  Simon’s dark eyes glittered in the sunlight filtering through the mottled clouds. “Yes, I would die if it would bring Miriam and my unborn child back. You have a bloody second chance. But you’d rather toss it away. Violet is an incredible woman. You’re a fool.”

  “Perhaps you should pursue her. She’s everything you want in a wife—mature, widowed, experienced. She’s intelligent, witty, and she clearly cares for you.” Nick couldn’t keep the jealousy from stealing into his voice. He was supposed to be helping Simon, not being an ass.

  With a slight shrug, Simon turned his head toward the brook. “Maybe I should. She deserves to be happy, and I sense she’s not.”

  White-hot anger crested in Nick’s chest, but he’d had too much practice in managing his emotions. He tamped it down while reason told him that Simon was merely provoking him. Or deflecting from the real issue.

  Nick took a deep breath and willed his pulse to slow. “Let me worry about Violet.” Did he really plan to do that? He couldn’t think of that just now. “You mustn’t let what happened in the cathedral drag you into darkness.”

  “Why? Then you’d have company.”

  Nick couldn’t hold on to his frustration any longer, not entirely. “Goddammit, this isn’t about me.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Simon glanced back at Nick. “But forgive me if I can’t take advice from someone who does nothing to improve his lot.”

  “There is nothing to be done.” Nick grappled with his control and held on to it with the barest thread. “I am cursed. There is no hope for me.”

  “And that is where you and I diverge. I still have hope. God help me, even after today’s debacle, I still have hope. If I didn’t, I may as well give up. I honestly don’t know what keeps you going.”

  Stunned into silence, Nick stared at him. What did keep him going? He woke up every day and did what he must—he managed his estate, he conducted his ducal duties, he took pleasure in riding, fishing… Hell. He was lonely. And it had taken this infernal house party to wake him to that fact.

  He looked down at the ground briefly, then nodded. “I get your point. Finally.”

  Simon snorted. “Well, that’s something. I hope this means you’ll make things right with Violet.”

  A wave of apprehension swept over him. He wasn’t sure that was the right course. Realizing he was maybe ready to make a change, to try again to allow something into his life, didn’t mean that something was Violet. He associated her with the start of his misfortune. He’d often wondered if his behavior wasn’t to blame. He’d carried on a liaison with a young woman out of wedlock, never mind that he’d had every intention of marrying her…

  “I don’t know.” That was all he could say rig
ht now. “I’d rather focus on you. I’ll make sure everyone knows Violet fell.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Society’s court long ago passed judgment on me, and I was a fool to think I could expect otherwise. So I live on the fringe.” He shrugged, appearing as if he didn’t care, but Nick knew better. “I’ve managed it for some time now.”

  “It won’t always be like this,” Nick said. “Lady Nixon and her ilk will forget. Or die.”

  “I don’t know about the former, but the latter is a certainty. For all of us.” He put his hat back on. “I’m going back to the house, and then I’m leaving.”

  “You can’t.”

  Simon arched his brow as he pulled his glove more snugly around his left hand. “Why not?”

  “We have a deal.”

  The wind buoyed Simon’s laugh. “The deal was that you would stay one night.”

  “We were supposed to leave together for your box.”

  “I’m not going there. You’re welcome to, of course.”

  Nick narrowed his eyes. “Where are you going, then? It doesn’t matter. You should stay. Show those shrews that you aren’t rattled. If the tables were turned, you wouldn’t let me leave.”

  Simon grunted. “I’m still leaving. You need to stay and explore things with Violet. Or not. But if you don’t, I promise that I’ll hound you about the mistake for the rest of your days.” He went to his horse and mounted.

  “This may be the end of our friendship,” Nick called.

  Simon stared at him a moment, then shook his head before turning and riding northwest.

  Nick picked up a rock and skipped it into the stream, swearing. Without Simon, he truly had no one, and now that he’d realized his life was lacking, he couldn’t afford to lose the only friend he had. Did that mean he had to try to work things out with Violet?

  He swore again. This wasn’t Simon’s bloody life. He didn’t understand the complexities surrounding their relationship—the broken promises, the guilt, the unresolved emotions. Wouldn’t it be better for Nick to just start over?

  Miss Kingman was beautiful and charming, albeit reserved. And today in the cathedral, she’d demonstrated a sharp intelligence as they’d discussed the reformation and the Civil War. If he wanted to banish the emptiness in his life, he could do no better than someone like her. If she agreed to his terms—no expectation of love—he’d be in no danger of losing his heart. Or his mind with grief if tragedy struck, as he almost certainly expected it to.

  And yet he couldn’t ignore the unresolved feelings he had for Violet, the burning desire that pulsed through him whenever she was near. Hell, whenever he even thought about her as he was doing now. He recalled that night so long ago when she’d feigned illness, then slipped out of her aunt and uncle’s house. Nick had been waiting for her outside, and together they’d gone to his uncle’s town house, but his uncle hadn’t been there. It had just been Nick and a handful of servants, and it had been easy to secret her upstairs to his chamber. By the light of the moon streaming through his window, they’d made love for the first time, and he’d basked in the joy of knowing they would be together for the rest of their lives.

  He closed his eyes and saw her as she was then—her body soft and lush and so responsive to his touch. She’d cried out his name over and over and declared her love between soul-stirring kisses. He’d never imagined their plans would crash down around him less than a week later.

  The familiar anger wasn’t as strong now as it had been, but seeing her had roused it again. What Simon didn’t understand was that Nick had to manage all these conflicting emotions where Violet was concerned. And he wasn’t sure he could.

  He opened his eyes and went to the rock Simon had vacated. Dropping down, he stared out toward the Mendip Hills, mindless of the wind picking up or the clouds darkening overhead.

  When the first raindrop struck his shoulder, he glanced up. Another drop splattered his cheek. He was about to get drenched.

  Muttering an oath, he mounted his horse and thundered back to the manor. He was, as anticipated, thoroughly soaked by the time he arrived at the stables. He looked for Simon’s vehicle. Not seeing it, he asked if the duke had left and was informed that he had. Damn, Simon had departed with incredible speed.

  Likely he’d wanted to avoid seeing anyone, which he’d done because the coaches were just arriving from the village.

  Nick went into the house and asked for a bath and whiskey. Hopefully, the combination would give him some insight on what path to take.

  * * *

  Violet stood in the upstairs sitting room that overlooked the front drive and watched the ladies climb into the coaches for an afternoon jaunt into Wells to shop. After yesterday’s disaster at the cathedral, she’d wanted to close herself in her room for the remainder of the party, but Hannah had convinced her to come to dinner. Violet had relented, agreeing that it would be better for Simon if she showed everyone that she was fine and reiterate that he hadn’t pushed her.

  She just wished he hadn’t left. Everything she and Nick had done to rehabilitate his reputation had been swept away.

  Hannah had felt horrible. She’d vowed never to invite Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law to anything ever again. It was good the house party would conclude after tonight’s ball. Violet was looking forward to leaving in the morning.

  She wanted to put as much distance between herself and this party as possible. And not just because of what had happened with Simon. No, if she were honest, it was largely to do with Nick.

  He’d come to dinner last night and been his usual aloof self. Even so, she’d caught him looking at her several times. Not that she’d been able to discern why. His features had been as impassive as ever.

  Still, she’d been aware of his presence and her undying attraction to him the entire evening. She couldn’t stand it. Perhaps she could beg off tonight’s ball and plead illness. Everyone had seen that she was perfectly fine yesterday. They wouldn’t blame Simon.

  Of course they would. They already did.

  Scowling, she turned from the window and instantly froze.

  Standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his gaze targeted directly on her, was Nick. He was dressed as he’d been at luncheon—a dark green coat with buff breeches and a waistcoat of warm acorn brown. “You aren’t dressed for riding,” was all she could think to say. The men were going riding while the women ventured to the village.

  “No, they just left.” He pushed away from the jamb and closed the door. Then he walked slowly into the center of the room before stopping.

  Why had he closed the door? She ignored the invisible magnet drawing her to him. “I was just heading back to my room.”

  “Stay.” He took another step toward her. “Please.”

  “I shouldn’t.” And yet she didn’t move.

  “After tomorrow, I doubt we’ll see each other. It seemed…” He cleared his throat and took another step. What the devil was he about?

  His brow creased, destroying the careful composure he always wore. Was he going to be the Nick she remembered? The Nick she liked? The Nick she loved?

  No. She didn’t love him anymore. Not this Duke of Ice.

  He wiped his hand over his mouth, a gesture he’d done often in their youth. It startled her.

  “I’m conflicted.” He speared her with a tumultuous look, and she could see the battle in his eyes. “I… I want to move forward, but I don’t know that I can. Not until I put the past behind me. I didn’t realize that until I saw you here.”

  And now the conflict ignited inside her. She’d been so happy to see him. Suddenly, all the dreams she’d buried had taken flight, and for the first time, they’d seemed real. Until she’d seen what he’d become. Now she had to accept that her dreams were dead, that they’d died eight years ago. And yet here he was, standing in front of her—the man who’d stolen her heart, the man she would’ve given anything to reclaim. Sanity told her to run away, but she was rooted to the floor.

  “I ne
ed to move on too.” She didn’t recognize the sound of her voice. It was dark and steely. Cold.

  “I was hoping that together, we could do that. Find a way to leave the past where it belongs.”

  She’d held her love so close to herself for so long that it was simply a part of her. She couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d cut it away and be whole again. “How?”

  He closed the gap between them. His eyes, so pale and bright in the afternoon light coming from the window behind her, bored into hers. “Like this.”

  He reached for her, his hand curling around her waist. She sucked in a breath, desire enflaming her as he drew her against his chest.

  Staring down at her as if he hadn’t truly seen her in eight years, he traced his forefinger along her forehead, then down over her temple and across her cheekbone until he found her jaw. Dragging his flesh along hers, he came to her mouth. The moment his finger touched her lips, she opened and drew the tip inside, never breaking their eye contact.

  His eyelids lowered, and his gaze turned instantly seductive. She suckled his finger, but he pulled it away, and she thought he meant to leave then.

  Instead, he lowered his head and kissed her. The contact was like a bonfire catching flame, sending heat licking outward until everything was ablaze.

  He tasted of that heat and need. He tasted like home.

  This was no gentle brush of lips as in the ballroom the other day. This was the passion she remembered, his body pressed to hers, his mouth opening and invading hers, his tongue tempting hers. And she answered every provocation, straining against him, her arms twining around his neck and pulling him to her, lest he decide this was a mistake.

  Maybe it was. She didn’t care. This wasn’t the Duke of Ice. This was Nick, the man she’d given her heart to, her lover.

  His fingers dug into her back as he kissed her with fierce need. She met his desperation with her own, clutching his neck and curling her hands into his collar. Tilting her head, she pressed harder against him, need pulsing between her legs. She hadn’t been with a man in so long. And she hadn’t known ecstasy with one since him.