Page 13 of The Duke of Ice
His gaze strayed to hers as she approached, and she wondered if he’d gained the sobriquet purely by the way his eyes made one feel. She shivered as she came to stand before him. “Duke.”
“Lady Pendleton.” Or perhaps it was his tone. It fairly dripped with ice.
Words stalled on her tongue. What could she say to this man after eight long, lonely years?
He arched a dark brow at her. It was the prodding she needed.
“Why were you rude to Lady Lavinia?”
“I wasn’t rude. I was plainspoken.”
“It sounded rude to me.”
“And Lady Lavinia would be the first young woman to speak the absolute truth? I find that impossible to believe.”
He was referring to her and the promise she’d made to him. The promise she’d broken.
“She said you told her to swim back to the shallow end. That’s hardly polite.”
“It’s honest.” He glowered past Violet. “She’s in over her head with me.”
Words failed Violet again for a moment as she struggled to reconcile the cold man in front of her with the Nick she remembered. “What happened to you?”
His frigid eyes bored into hers. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the Duke of Ice now.”
“Just today in fact.” She searched his face, looking for a trace of the young man she’d fallen in love with. “I’d no idea you were a duke or that you were even in line for a title.”
His lips spread into a humorless smile. “Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t have thrown me over. A duke surely trumps a viscount.”
Of course he was angry with her—he’d every right to be. What had she expected? Eight years hadn’t washed away her emotion for him. She had to assume it was the same for him.
“I am still so very sorry about what happened, as I explained then.”
His brow shot up briefly. “Explained? I had no explanation from you.”
“I wrote you a letter.” Panic bubbled in her chest as she realized he’d never received it. She’d asked her maid to post it—had her parents somehow intervened?
His face settled back into its stoic mask. “Would it have changed anything?”
Defeat, as heavy as it had been then, weighed on her. She would still have married Pendleton. She’d had no choice. “No.”
Horror dawned, and her lips parted as she looked up at him. “Is this… Are you like this because of me?”
He let out a sharp snicker. “Don’t flatter yourself, Lady Pendleton. You were one disappointment among many, and I daresay you weren’t the worst. Not by a great deal.” His gaze hardened. “Do not presume to know me. Our brief and ancient association is long dead. I prefer it to remain that way.”
He turned and strode from the room, moving much faster than a glacier, but with precisely the same temperature.
As Violet pivoted to return to the trio she’d left, she realized the volume of conversation had dipped. Heads were turned in her direction. Her gaze found Hannah’s a few feet away. It looked as though she’d been on her way to Violet—perhaps to intervene in her conversation with Nick. A conversation it seemed, judging by the attention currently directed toward her, everyone had been aware of.
Color leapt up her neck and spread through her face. She spun on her heel and fled the room.
Chapter 4
Nick handedhis fifth salmon of the morning to the footman and set about casting his line again. The sun was just becoming visible over the tree line, which meant his solitude would soon be interrupted.
“You’ve quite a hand at this, Your Grace,” the footman said as he placed the fish in a basket.
Nick said nothing as he sank his line into the pond once more. Fishing allowed him to sit quietly without anyone bothering him or expecting anything from him. Whether he was on a boat in the ocean or beside a lake or stream as he was today, he enjoyed the silence, broken only by the sounds of the water and the creatures in and around it. The trill of a jay reached his ears, and he closed his eyes briefly, grateful for the calm.
