Page 83 of The Duke of Ice
For that reason alone, he would let her go.
* * *
The past fivedays had been a frenzy of social events, all designed to stir excitement for what was being touted as the wedding of the decade—if Lady Kingman was to be believed. For Nick, it was all torture since he’d awakened in a cold sweat the night after agreeing to marry Miss Kingman. He feared he’d made a terrible mistake, and he’d spent the intervening days alternately feeling ill and drinking—perhaps too much.
Today he would tell his parents-in-law-to-be that there would be no more balls, routs, dinner parties, or levees. The wedding was to take place three weeks hence, and until then, Nick planned to keep to himself.
“What the fucking hell have you done?” Simon’s shouted question preceded his entrance into Nick’s study.
Bexham followed on his heels, his face pinched with distress. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, he wouldn’t allow me to announce him.”
“Who needs an announcement when he’s bellowed his presence for all of London to hear?” Nick waved his butler away. “It’s all right.”
Simon moved to stand in front of Nick’s desk and glared down at him. “Explain.” His jaw was tight, his teeth clearly clenched behind lips pale with anger.
Nick sat back in his chair and rested his hands on the arms. “I presume you’re speaking of my engagement?”
“To Diana bloody Kingman! Have you lost your mind?”
It was as succinct—and accurate—an assessment as Nick could’ve made. “Yes.”
“Explain,” Simon repeated before lowering himself into a chair.
How could he do that without exposing his weakness, his utter stupidity? “I went to Bath to reconcile with Violet, but it didn’t work. Miss Kingman proposed marriage, and I accepted.” Like a complete fool.
Simon got up and stalked to the opposite end of the room. “If I still drank spirits, I’d down an entire bottle of whiskey,” he muttered, but Nick still heard him. Simon turned around, the anger gone from his face and replaced with sorrow. “If you tried with Violet and it truly didn’t work, well then, I have no hope left. I would’ve bet my last pound that you were written in the stars.”
Nick stood and walked around his desk. He leaned on the edge. “You are a hopeless romantic.”
“Guilty.” He took a few steps back toward Nick. “What happened in Bath?”
Nick grasped the edge of the desk on either side of his thighs. He didn’t want to discuss this. “What happened doesn’t really matter.”
Simon narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’ll ask Violet about it when I visit her.”
Bloody hell.“You’re going to visit her?”
“I’d planned to, yes, and now, because of your idiocy, I think it’s vital. She’ll be devastated, I expect.”
Devastated.Nick winced, his insides twisting painfully, which was no less than he deserved. He’d written to her as soon as he’d returned home from speaking to Diana’s father. She hadn’t responded. So yes, she was likely devastated. Or furious. Probably both.
“You assume she wasn’t the one to break things off.”
Simon glared at him again. “I’d wager my last pound that she would never do that. She’s loved you for eight years and lived with the agony of her mistake. There’s no way she would’ve hurt you again.” He studied Nick briefly. “If you can even be hurt. Youarethe bloody Duke of Ice.”
The familiar nausea from the last few days rose in Nick’s gut. “This is not a revelation to anyone.”
“It is to me. And to Violet, I expect. We know the real you, who you’re capable of being.”
“Who Iusedto be. That person died with Maurice. And again with Uncle Gil. Yet again with Jacinda and then with Elias. Finally with—” Anguish tightened his body. “Never mind.”
Simon advanced on him, his brow dark, his eyes narrowed. “Whom did it die with?”
He was going to find out when he got to Bath anyway. “Violet.” Nick cleared the cobwebs from his throat. “She was in an accident. She was unconscious for quite some time and ill. I had to leave her to attend the princess’s fun—”
“Youlefther?”
“She’s fine now.” The physician had arrived back in London a few days ago and reported to Nick. Violet had been weak but was recovering.
