Page 15 of The Duke of Ice
Nick didn’t want to talk about her. Or think about her. Or remember anything to do with her. But he’d dreamed of her last night for the first time in ages. Only she hadn’t been the young, dewy-eyed girl he’d met eight years ago. She’d looked as he’d seen her last night—her high cheekbones more pronounced, her lips a deeper pink. And her eyes, so clear and honest in their youth, had been perceptive, more experienced, like stones polished after years and years in the bed of a stream.
“She’s no one important.”
“But you know her?” Simon persisted.
Nick ground his teeth. “Yes.”
“And she clearly strikes a nerve.”
She did indeed. Last night hehadbeen sulking. Or perhaps brooding was a better word. Then that chit had come over to speak with him, and he’d done his best to scare her off. Not because he was a beast, but because it was better for everyone, especially the young woman.
Then Violet had approached him, and every inch of his body had reacted in a combination of hurt, regret, anger, and something wholly surprising: yearning. For a fleeting moment, he’d recalled what it had felt like to want her. He’d embraced the other emotions instead.
Even so, he couldn’t forget the glimmer he’d seen, the reminder of a time long past. A time before he’d gone to war, before he’d lost the rest of his family, before Jacinda and Elias.
“I knew her a long time ago,” Nick said softly, his gaze trained on the heron.
“Before we met at Oxford?”
Nick shook his head. “After.”
“You never told me about…” Simon sucked in a breath. “She was the woman. Christ, I’d forgotten all about her.”
Nick had told him he’d met a woman, but that she’d married someone else. By then, Nick had progressed from grief to anger. “You were busy at the time.”
“Raising hell,” Simon said with more than a touch of regret. He’d been doing what heirs to dukedoms did in London—gambling, chasing women, and drinking.
Nick was sure there were many things Simon didn’t remember, and he didn’t hold it against his friend. Simon had been through his own trials and managed to come through them with a far better disposition than Nick.
“I’m sure you don’t wish to speak of it, but remind me what happened beyond the fact that she broke your heart?”
“I don’t think there’s much else to tell, is there?” What good would it do to relive that fortnight?
Her parents hadn’t been in Bath when they’d met, and so he hadn’t been able to ask to court her. They’d met in secret, and Nick had anticipated asking for permission from her father to wed as soon as he came to Bath. However, when Nick went to Violet’s aunt’s town house to make his case for her hand, he’d learned that she’d left town the day before just as soon as her parents had arrived. His mind shuttered against what he’d discovered that day. He gripped the fishing pole tightly, the muscles of his hand clenching. “In hindsight, I don’t think my feelings were really that strong.”
“How can you know?” Simon asked. “Your relationship ended before it had really begun. It’s hard to say what would have bloomed if the seeds had been allowed to grow.”
“Stop trying to be a bloody poet.”
Simon flashed a broad smile. “Don’t pretend I don’t amuse you.”
A loud cacophony of chatter amidst the rustling of bushes heralded the arrival of the male members of the house party.
“Ho there! I heard you’d come down early, Your Grace,” Linford said with a hearty grin. He turned his smile on Simon as well. “And here you are, Your Grace. I am beginning to think that where I may find one of you, I shall find the other. How easy it will be for the young ladies to spot you.” He chortled and looked about to see if anyone else was joining him in his mirth. Seeing that they were not, his laughter turned to coughing and then he cleared his throat. “Shall we fish?”
Footmen had toted the fishing equipment, which the men were now clamoring to claim. Nick resisted the urge to pull up his line and return to the house. He doubted there would be much more to catch with all this commotion, but told himself to stay for Simon’s sake.
It was true that most of the attendees treated Simon with an odd deference that smelled a bit of fear. Some of these imbeciles clearly believed that hehadkilled his wife. If nothing else, Nick should do his best to disabuse them of that notion and encourage them to get to know Simon instead of listening to vicious rumors.
How in the hell was he—a man who sought and coveted his solitude—supposed to do that? He’d long forgotten how to be affable or charming.
Blood of the devil.His mood, already soured by the disruption of his peace and quiet, threatened to turn even darker.
He glanced over at Simon, noting that no one had sat on his other side. Reeling in his line, he stood. “This is an excellent spot. I’ve already caught several salmon.”
Lord Colton stepped toward him. “Indeed?”
“Go ahead, take it.”
