Page 28 of The Duke of Ice
“Perhaps that’s a bit hyperbolic, but not by much. They’re dangerous—from what I hear. What did you say to set them off?”
“I called them ridiculous.” She winced. “It wasn’t well done of me. But they were being incredibly insulting toward Simon.” She glanced about. “Where is he?”
He inclined his head to the side and back—toward the room they’d passed. “In the card room helping to set up, which was most fortuitous, I think.”
“Yes, his arrival in the drawing room might have caused a scene.” Her shoulders sagged. “I was trying to help him. I’m afraid I made things worse.”
When they reached the entry hall, he pivoted and led her back the way they’d come. “I doubt that’s possible. What’s worse than them thinking he’s a murderer? They already think that.”
“Lady Nixon said there was an eyewitness to the crime. I can’t believe it. He would’ve been prosecuted.”
Nick drew her to a stop and turned slightly toward her, keeping her hand over his arm. “There was, in fact, a witness, but she disappeared.”
Apprehension seized Violet’s chest. “They said as much. I still can’t believe it.”
“Nor can I, but he doesn’t remember what happened. He blames himself, whether he pushed her or not.”
“But he shouldn’t. Not if it was an accident.”
“That wouldn’t matter.” He turned and started walking once more, his gaze focused straight ahead. “Trust me.”
Something in his tone told her there was a wealth of rationale—and emotion—behind that entreaty. She looked up at him and said simply, “I do.”
He cast a glance at her, and she caught maybe a hint of surprise in his eyes. She didn’t expect him to return the sentiment—his trust was something she’d have to regain. If she even could.
“I do think Simon is making progress,” she said as they neared the card room. “Lady Balcombe said he was handsome. And Lady Kingman said his rescue of me was excellent. I still sense some hesitancy, but they aren’t maligning his character like Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law.”
He stopped again before they got to the card room. “Hmm. We’ll need a plan to win them over.”
She reluctantly took her hand from his arm. It felt so good to touch him. Familiar and exciting too. Her body wanted to lean into his, but she masked her reaction. “What sort of plan?”
“I’m not sure yet. For now, I suppose I’ll have to try to charm them.” His face took on a decidedly sour expression, reminiscent of how he looked when he brooded in the corner.
She laughed softly. “Careful. That’s the haughty Duke of Ice. I think you need to dig out the charming Nicholas Bateman I met.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and she feared she’d overstepped. They’d reached such a nice truce. She hated to go back to him hating her. Or maybe he did still hate her, and he was simply putting that emotion aside so they could help his friend.
“They won’t care.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He arched a brow at her. “I’m a duke—made of ice or not.”
His tone was so droll, his expression so wry, she couldn’t help but laugh. She also couldn’t help thinkingthiswas the Nick she’d met. The Nick she’d dreamed of. Her heart leapt and threatened to take flight from her chest.
“Dukes are magic?”
“To people like Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law, yes.” He pivoted toward the card room. “I’m going to play. Will you watch?”
She couldn’t tell if his question was polite or if he wanted her to join him. She hoped it was the latter and decided she didn’t care. She would enjoy this conviviality with him for as long as she could.
Chapter 7
The morning dawnedcloudy but dry, and the archery contest was due to take place as planned. As luck would have it—or not, depending on how one felt—Nick left the house just as Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law were making their way to the archery field. Though he needed to speak with them, he decided he was unlucky, for now he’d have to escort them the entire way instead of being able to remove himself if the conversation become intolerable.
He wished it had been Violet leaving the house instead. He’d enjoyed their time together last night, even if it was brief. She’d followed him into the card room for a bit, but then departed and he hadn’t seen her again. He’d particularly enjoyed rescuing her again—this time from a potential scene in the drawing room. He’d loved the looks of shock on Lady Nixon’s and Mrs. Law’s pinched faces when Violet had called them ridiculous. Even if it was ill-advised.
“If it isn’t the Duke of Ice,” Lady Nixon called as they walked onto the path that led to the archery field, about a hundred yards distant.
