Page 2 of The Duke of Ice
“I’d rather have my entrails removed through my nose.”
Simon let out a bark of laughter. “What a disgusting image. But I do believe you would prefer that. Still, because you’re my dearest friend, you’re going to do it.”
Nick glanced down at the letter and recalled the details. It was a house party hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Linford.
“It’s not terribly far—just outside Wells,” Simon said. “And we’ll go to my lodge after that. It’s on the way, if you think about it.”
“It isn’t, but that’s a nice attempt,” Nick said wryly. “If it’s terrible, we’ll leave early.”
“Agreed. Does that mean you’ll go?”
“No. I’m humoring you.” Nick gestured toward the invitation on his desk. “It doesn’t say you have to go with me.”
“I take ‘heartily encouraged’ as a demand. I don’t think it would do me any favors to arrive without you.”
Nick made a guttural sound in his throat. “Then perhaps they should have invited me.”
Simon arched a brow at him. “Do you know they didn’t? I thought Markley burned any invitations upon receipt.”
Yes, he did. Nick called for the butler, who returned to the study with alacrity. “Yes, Your Grace? Should I bring tea?”
“I suppose, but that isn’t why I called for you. Did I receive an invitation from the Linfords in Somerset?”
“Indeed you did.” A bit of color leached from Markley’s middle-aged face. “I’m afraid I disposed of it as usual. Was that a mistake?”
“Of course not. I will advise you if I wish the procedure to change. Thank you, that will be all. Except for the tea.”
An expression of relief crossed Markley’s features before he departed.
“They’re still petrified of you,” Simon said.
“They’re deferential, as they should be.”
Simon’s response was an inarticulate sound that managed to convey his disagreement.
“Why the hell do you want to go to this party?” Nick asked. “Society has been horrible to you.” It was universally accepted that Simon had killed his wife four years ago, though he was never prosecuted for the crime. The fact that Simon had been drunk out of his mind and couldn’t remember a thing hadn’t helped matters. He’d also done nothing to defend himself, but he hadn’t imbibed a drop of spirits since. Indeed, his surrender of drink had only served to make him look guilty in the eyes of many. Such judgment by strangers only reinforced Nick’s need for isolation.
Simon’s dark brows pitched low over his eyes as he steepled his fingers and stared at the windows beyond Nick. “Unlike you, I get lonely. One can only read so many books or visit so many corners of the kingdom before one begins to go mad.”
His eyes met Nick’s, and for a fleeting moment, Nick saw the hollow darkness that Simon tried so hard to bury. That was where they differed. Simon tried to keep his past from dragging him into an abyss, whereas Nick refused to forget the tragedies that had led him to his cold solitude.
“What do you hope to gain?” Nick asked softly.
Simon dropped his hands to the arms of the chair and lifted a shoulder. “Diversion? That’s all I ever hope for.”
“Will we know anyone there? I can’t say I’m acquainted with Mr. or Mrs. Linford.”
“Linford was at Oxford at the same time as us. He was in New College, if memory serves.” Simon shook his head. “Might’ve been Hertford.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Nick said. “Clearly, we barely knew him. Why would he suddenly attempt to rekindle the acquaintance?”
“I can’t say.”
Nick narrowed his eyes. “I find it suspicious.”
“Just come with me, stay for one bloody night, and then continue to the lodge.”
“Won’t you come with me?”
