Page 33 of The Duke of Ice
Violet would too.
And it appeared the majority concurred as well, because several people vocalized their support.
Irving glanced toward Sir Barnard, who grimaced but gave a subtle nod that apparently indicated his surrender of a joint victory. Scanning the crowd with a broad grin until his gaze landed on Nick, Irving cried, “It appears the Duke of Kilve is victorious!”
There were shouts and applause. Mr. Seaver shook Nick’s hand, grinning widely. Sir Barnard also shook his hand, but looked far less enthusiastic.
“Can’t blame Sir Barnard for being disappointed. That was a rare shot.”
“Which Nick has done before, apparently.” She turned to Simon. “You were expecting it.”
Simon nodded. “Nick’s wicked with a bow. We’re off to my hunting box after the party. You haven’t seen skill until you’ve seen him take down a stag with a single arrow between the eyes. Quick and painless. Let’s go congratulate him, shall we?”
Before she could protest—she found herself feeling uneasy about his demeanor today—Simon had pulled her along. It took a moment for the crowd around him to dissipate enough for them to move forward.
“Well done,” Simon said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Thank you.” Nick didn’t look like someone who’d just won a hard-fought archery contest with a spectacular shot.
She looked at him tentatively, wary of the ice glazing his expression. “That was amazing.”
“Congratulations on your victory,” he said without much feeling. It was something one said out of courtesy, not because they were genuinely happy for you.
Violet’s insides twisted into knots. She’d been a fool to think they could go back to the way they’d been. But weren’t they aligned when it came to Simon? She had a plan for later and hoped Nick would join her in its execution. With Simon beside her, she couldn’t bring it up now, nor did she want to. Not when Nick looked as though he was made of frost.
Irving walked to them then and gripped Nick’s bicep. “Time for our victory luncheon!” He turned with Nick, saying, “That was a brilliant shot. However do you do that?”
Nick was swept away, and Simon made to follow. He offered Violet his arm. “You coming?”
She saw Hannah standing a few yards away, speaking to the footmen. “I’ll be along shortly. I’m going to help Hannah.” She turned and went to her friend, needing a few moments to think.
Hannah’s gaze flickered with surprise when she saw Violet. “Aren’t you going to the house?”
“With you. Can I help with anything?”
“No, I’m just directing the cleanup. They’ll take it from here.” She smiled at the footmen and took Violet’s arm. “Let’s go.”
They took up the rear as everyone moved toward the house.
“What an exciting event!” Hannah said, clearly elated. “Lady Nixon said it was the most thrilling archery contest she’d ever seen. Everyone is agog over His Grace’s last shot.”
Violet wished that had been Simon. Not only would it have helped him, but she was sure Simon would’ve been happier about it. Nick had seemed as distant as ever. But now she knew why—or at least partially. He’d lost his brother, his wife, his child. That would leave anyone feeling like a hollow shell, where perhaps not even winning an archery contest in spectacular fashion was sufficient to lift one’s mood. What would?
“He didn’t seem particularly pleased,” Violet said.
Hannah waved her hand. “Oh, that’s just his disposition, I’ve come to realize. It does make one wonder what’s happened in his past to cause that.”
“Me.”
Hannah nearly tripped, but caught herself. Her head swung toward Violet. “Pardon?”
“Notjustme, but I didn’t help. He’s suffered a great deal of tragedy.” She wouldn’t say more, at least not about things that weren’t her place to say.
“Whatever do you mean? Are you saying you know him?”
Violet nodded. “We met the September before you and I became acquainted.”
“You never told me you’d met a duke! We were so nervous during our first Season, even though you were a viscountess.”
