Page 30 of The Duke of Ice
“Don’t hold it so tightly. Relax your hand on the bow before you release. You might also consider widening your stance a bit.”
The footman handed her another arrow, and she took her time before pulling the string. She did as he instructed and loosened her grip just before she let the arrow fly. The arrow hit the target but didn’t stick.
She turned to him, her eyes bright and her lips parted. “It almost landed.”
“You did very well.”
She blushed slightly. “You’re very kind to help me.”
“As I said before, it’s my pleasure.” Just then, he caught sight of Simon arriving—with Violet on his arm. A bead of irritation worked up his spine.
“Shall I try one more time?” she asked.
Nick tore his gaze from his best friend and his former lover. “Certainly.” He resisted the urge to turn his head and focused on assisting Miss Kingman.
She did much better this time, and her arrow hit the target, albeit on the outer edge. “I did it!” she exclaimed.
“After a few more shots, you may be ready for the next distance.”
Her expression dimmed, and he noted her gaze was directed past him. He turned to look and saw her father watching them. The baronet smiled and waved.
Miss Kingman touched Nick’s sleeve, drawing his attention. “Thank you again.” Her gaze was soft and earnest. “I appreciate you spending time with me. But don’t feel as if you have to stay.”
Was she trying to hint that he should leave? Something about her demeanor reflected discomfort, despite the fact that she’d touched him. He might’ve thought it was a flirtatious gesture, but he wasn’t sure that was her intent.
Regardless, he did want to go. This was the most time he’d spent talking to people he barely knew—first to Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law, and then to Miss Kingman. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out in case you require my assistance.” He apparently hadn’t forgotten how to be polite. This was a surprising relief.
“Thank you.” She turned to the footman to get another arrow, and Nick took his leave.
He looked toward Simon but didn’t see Violet with him any longer. A quick scan of the field revealed her standing with their hostess, their heads bent in conversation.
Nick strolled toward Simon, who met him more than halfway and set the tone by giving him a sly grin. “Heaven forfend, is the Duke of Icethawing?”
Scowling, Nick offered a grunt in response.
“There’s the surly friend I know.” Simon’s smile didn’t falter. “You looked friendly with Miss Kingman. Is there a chance you’ve changed your mind about seeking a wife?”
“I was helping her shoot. Or maybe I was determining her interest in you. You’re the one who wants to remarry.”
Simon’s eyes rounded briefly. “Egads, no. She’s far too young. I’d prefer a lady of experience. Maybe a widow.”
Nick’s gaze strayed to Violet. She was a widow. No way in hell was he going to steer Simon inthatdirection. “You shouldn’t discount a woman because she’s young. You may be surprised. I believe the other single ladies in attendance are a bit older.”
“Perhaps slightly.” Simon stared at Nick. “Good God, you’re trying to play matchmaker.”
“Don’t look so bloody surprised. You did say you wanted to remarry.”
“Yes, but I don’t have to find her here.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and he turned his head. Toward Violet. “Lady Pendleton is older. And a widow. And rather attractive.” He looked back to Nick, his expression unabashed. “Would that be distressing to you given your shared past?”
Hell yes, it would be distressing. Nick had suffered imagining her with her bloody viscount husband. But a friend?
She is your past, not your future.
As usual, he kept his emotions as hidden as possible. “I don’t know. It might be…odd.” What a goddamned understatement. Seeing her here at this party had shaken him. For the first time in years, he was interacting with people and he wasfeeling. The sooner he could get away from her, the better. If she married Simon—God, the thought of that seared his insides as if with a hot poker—she’d be a part of his life forever. He didn’t think he could endure that.
“Well, odd isn’t too terrible,” Simon said affably.
Was he trying to be provoking? Nick buried another scowl and schooled his features into a hard mask. “Are you going to shoot in the contest?”
