Page 71 of The Duke of Ice
“Nick! Nick!”
He’d no idea how many times she shouted his name, but by the time he paused and turned toward the street, her coach was stopped several yards behind him. Her footman jumped down and opened the door, then helped her out.
She had to go slowly because of the ridiculous volume of her dress. But once she was on the sidewalk, she rushed to meet him. “Nick?”
He didn’t respond, just stared at her. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. His mind, overcome with emotion and memory, was shutting down. Good, perhaps then he could forget.
She took his hand. “Come with me.”
He didn’t object as she dragged him to her coach. He moved much more slowly than before, feeling as though he’d been coated in lead. Everything felt so heavy all of a sudden.
The footman helped her back into the coach, and Nick climbed in behind her, taking the rear-facing seat because her skirts were completely occupying the other one.
A moment later, they were on their way.
“What happened?” she asked.
“She asked me about Maurice.”
“I heard that.” Her voice was soft, comforting, and he calmed a little. “Do you want to tell me why you’re upset?”
“Not really.” He registered the disappointment in her eyes even though she tried to mask it. “I watched him die. I tried to save him, but I couldn’t.”
She came off the seat and knelt on the floor. Looking up at him, she rested her hands on his thighs. “Nick, I’m so sorry for all you’ve endured.”
All I’d endured.Yes, there’d been so much death, but in many ways, his brother had been the toughest loss. He and Maurice had grown up together. They’d lived while their siblings, their mother, their father had all perished. Through it all, including losing Violet, Nick had known that he would survive, that he would be all right—because he had his brother by his side.
“It’s… Sometimes it’s too much.”
Her hands moved gently over him, massaging his muscles, taking the bitter edge off his tension. “I wish I’d met him. You always spoke of him with such affection.”
“I’d give anything to have him back.” How many times had he whispered that plea in the dark days following Jacinda’s death? And again after Elias passed? If Maurice had been there, Nick could have managed so much better. Maybe the ice wouldn’t have taken over.
She knelt at his feet, touching him, stroking him, infusing him with quiet strength until the coach came to a stop.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“My house. Come inside and have a drink. Then you can walk home—if you want. I’ll send my footman back to let your coachman know you’ve gone home.”
A drink sounded good. Hell, several drinks sounded even better.
He climbed down from the coach and helped her to descend. Her skirts crashed into his legs before she moved toward the short flight of steps leading to her stoop.
“I should go.” He wasn’t fit company.
Her coach pulled away, leaving them alone in front of her house.
She turned to face him. “If you do, I’ll follow you. I’m not leaving you alone. Not until I’m satisfied you’re all right.”
“Violet, I’m fine. I’ve had years to cope with his death.” With all of it.
“Yes, and you became the Duke of Ice.” She stepped toward him. “Is that really who you want to be? Or would you rather be the man I’ve spent the past week with?”
He was content as the Duke of Ice. His life was ordered, simple, and, for the most part, without upset. But over the past week, he’d found joy again—to a point. He realized he was still controlled, still ensuring he managed his emotions.
She took his hand again and pulled him toward the house. He allowed her to move him several steps before he stopped short. She careened backward but quickly regained her balance.
He dropped her hand. “I need to go, Violet.”
