Page 10 of The Duke of Ice
Later that evening, Violet entered the drawing room after dinner. Most of the ladies sat down to play cards, but she’d never particularly cared for cards. Instead, she made her way to a seating area in the corner where she could have a good vantage point of the activities. She’d also be able to see when Nick came into the room.
She mustn’t think of him so familiarly. He was the Duke of Kilve now. The Duke of Ice.
How he embodied that nickname. The frigidity in his gaze had been matched only by the frostiness of his tone and the chill of his overall demeanor. At dinner, he’d sat at Irving Linford’s right with Mrs. Linford, Irving’s mother, on his other side. Violet had watched him covertly throughout the meal, but he hadn’t once looked in her direction. He’d seemed to engage in conversation with Irving and his mother, but they’d done the majority of the talking as far as Violet could tell. Nick had sat stiff and tall, like an icicle frozen in place and absolutely impervious to warmth.
That wasn’t the Nick she’d known eight years ago. What had happened to him? Curiosity ate through her, but she wasn’t going to ask about him. Although she was certain Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law would tell her everything she wanted to know. If she strained to listen, she’d be able to hear them from across the room. They’d talked incessantly since entering the drawing room and were the primary reason Violet had chosen to remove herself from the card playing.
The younger set of women, a trio of bright-faced young ladies, made their way to Violet’s seating area. “Do you mind if we join you?” one of them asked. She was a petite, almost fairylike creature with large blue eyes, glowing ivory skin, and dark, nearly black hair. Her name was Miss Diana Kingman. Her father was a baronet and, from what Violet could tell, a bit of a braggart. He believed his daughter to be the most beautiful and the most charming young woman on the Marriage Mart, and he made sure everyone knew it.
“Not at all,” Violet said warmly. “Please sit.”
Miss Kingman took the chair near Violet, while the other two—Lady Lavinia Gillingham and Miss Sarah Colton—lowered themselves to the small settee.
“We hope you don’t mind, but we thought we might ask your advice,” Miss Colton said tentatively.
Violet wasn’t sure she was in a position to advise these young women. “If I can help, I certainly will. What do you wish to know?”
Lady Lavinia smoothed the back of her dark red-brown hair and glanced between the other two, as if seeking courage. “It’s our first house party.” She squinted at Violet, making her wonder if the girl needed spectacles. “What do weneedto know?”
Violet thought back to her first house party. She’d been wed to Clifford for nearly a year, and, newly with child, she’d been rather ill. He’d taken that opportunity to do what many gentlemen did at such events—philander. But she wouldn’t discussthatwith these young ladies.
“I daresay there isn’t anything youneedto know. Mrs. Linford has planned a great many diversions for everyone, so there is bound to be plenty for you to keep busy.”
“I’m eager for the excursion to see St. Andrew’s Cathedral in Wells,” Lady Lavinia said.
“I’ve seen it and it’s stunning.” Miss Colton’s blue eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I’m looking forward to shopping.”
When Miss Kingman didn’t contribute her opinion regarding the scheduled activities, Violet turned to her and asked, “And you, Miss Kingman?”
“The cathedral will be excellent, I think. But I’ll only be allowed to go if certain other guests go too.” However she felt about this was carefully guarded by her placid demeanor.
The other two women gazed sympathetically at Miss Kingman, and Lady Lavinia leaned toward Violet. “Her father is keen to marry her off.” She kept her voice low.
Violet studied Miss Kingman to see her reaction, but her features were remarkably impassive. The young woman was a study in reservation. Violet completely understood. She’d quickly learned to repress most of her emotions after marrying Pendleton, and though he’d been dead nearly three years, she still kept things close. Or perhaps that was maturity, as her mother often noted.
“I should like to be married,” Miss Kingman said evenly. She glanced around at the other two young ladies. “Wouldn’t you?”
Miss Colton’s shoulder twitched. “I suppose. My parents certainly want that.”
“Idowant to marry,” Lady Lavinia said. “But perhaps not immediately.” She winked at Miss Kingman before turning her gaze to Violet. “How old were you when you wed, Lady Pendleton?”
“Not quite twenty.” She hadn’t even had a season. That had been the intent, but after Nick, her parents had married her off at the earliest possible opportunity.
Lady Lavinia wrinkled her nose. “I’m two years past that, and I’m not certain I’m ready to be leg shackled.”
Violet hadn’t been ready either, but that was due to the choice of groom. If she’d been allowed to follow her heart… Well, that hardly mattered now.
Tracing a small flower embroidered on her skirt, Lady Lavinia exhaled. “Still, there are several eligible bachelors here this week, and my father will undoubtedly assess their worth.” She shot Miss Kingman a look of commiseration. “I daresay our fathers will put us in direct competition for the Duke of Ice.” She laughed, but it was edged with uncertainty. Or perhaps nervousness.
Miss Colton smiled happily. “I doubt my father will bother trying to match me to an Untouchable, thank goodness. For me, they are truly untouchable.”
“Are you sure?” Lady Lavinia asked. “No one would dare touch the Duke of Ruin, and for that reason, he may be quite available. If someone wished to take the risk.”
The smile crashed off Miss Colton’s face, and her eyes widened with horror. “You would wish that on me?”
“Of course not!” Lady Lavinia’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “It was a poor jest.”
“What is wrong with the Duke of Ru—the Duke of Romsey?” Violet didn’t want to use their nicknames.
