Page 9 of The Duke of Ice
“I met her several years ago. Before my uncle bought my commission.” He and Simon hadn’t been as close during that period after Oxford. While Nick, a mere mister at the time, had gone home to Bath, Simon had been a marquess with a penchant for gaming and drink. And women. He’d done his best to become the most notorious rake in London.
“You never told me about her.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” That was an egregious lie, but the story was ancient history. Surely it didn’t matter now.
Except she was here. And the past was playing merry hell with his well-ordered life. No,Simonhad played merry hell with his well-ordered life. “I never should’ve allowed you to persuade me to come here,” Nick said before taking another drink.
“Perhaps not,” Simon said with resignation. “But youarehere. Can we not try to make the best of it? If the weather clears, there will be fishing tomorrow. Linford’s lake is excellent, I hear.”
Nick did love to fish. And there wouldn’t be any women there. Perhaps if he kept to this room as well as his own chamber, he could suffer through this infernal party. “How long are we supposed to be here?”
“A week,” Simon said. “Dare I hope you are reconsidering your desire to flee?”
“As you said, we are here, and there is fishing.”
Simon grinned. “There are also several marriageable females. You can also reconsider your decision to avoid matrimony.”
Nick grunted before sipping his whiskey.
“I think there are several candidates. And you’ve an excellent chance with any of them.”
“I’ll leave the courtship to you,” Nick said.
“Oh no, everyone is interested in you,” Simon said cheerfully. “Youdidn’t kill your wife.”
Nick looked at his friend sharply. He joked about the rumor sometimes, and it was the nearest they came to discussing it. There were just some things you didn’t share with anyone, not even those closest to you.
Such as the fact that Nickhadkilled his wife. If not for him, she would still be alive. Nick was cursed. Indeed, perhaps if he removed himself from Simon, his friend might begin to emerge from the cloud of fear and distrust that surrounded him wherever he went.
Nick swirled the whiskey in his glass before downing the rest of the amber liquid. “You should find a better friend.”
Simon snorted. “No one will have me. So I’m afraid you’re stuck.”
“Perhaps your luck would improve without me.”
“Is that what you think?” Simon let out a huff of laughter. “Right now, you’re the only luck I have. Without you, I wouldn’t even be here. So you’re not getting rid of me. Let us try to enjoy ourselves this week, and if the future presents itself, you ought to embrace it.”
Nick felt suddenly contrite. If Simon could be optimistic, Nick owed it to him to try. Still, there were limits to what he could do. What he was capable of. “I’m not going to fall in love.”
“You sound quite adamant.”
“If there was a marriage—and I’m not saying there will be—she would have to agree to an arrangement in which love played no part.” That was essential. For her own well-being.
“How cold, but then you are—”
Nick glared at him. “Don’t say it.”
Simon raised his hand in self-defense. “I won’t.” He eyed Nick intently. “Could you do that? Take a wife without emotion.”
“I do everything without emotion.”
“Mostly, yes.” Simon let out a breath and turned to look at the windows. The lightning had died down, but a sudden sharp bolt rent the sky. “Sometimes, however, there’s a glimmer of hope.” He slid a look at Nick and the corner of his mouth ticked up. “I’ll cling to that. And so should you.”
No. Nick had long given up on that particular emotion. Hope was for people who believed in happy endings.
Nick most certainly did not.
* * *
