Page 55 of The Duke of Ice
Unwilling—or perhaps unable—to break the spell that had been cast, she looked back over her shoulder as if she’d see her aunt inside. Back then, she’d been too engrossed with her gossip to pay attention to what Violet was doing, so Violet had seized her chance.
She gave him a curtsey. “Yes, I’d be delighted.”
He offered his arm, and the moment she curled her hand around him, it was as if they’d been transported. The day seemed suddenly brighter, more like July than October, the air full of intoxicating scents of midsummer. Her insides swirled as giddiness swept through her. He exuded charm and magnetism, and he wanted to walk withher!
Violet couldn’t keep from smiling.
Questions crowded her mind—what was he doing here? Why had he come? What was this about? But only one made it to her lips. “Hannah isn’t here, is she?”
He shook his head.
Hannah’s note hadn’t been in her hand, which Violet knew as well as her own. She’d said her husband’s secretary was drafting it because she’d burned her finger. Nick, it seemed, was as cunning as she remembered.
“Would you like to see the canal?” he asked. “There’s a charming bridge done in the Chinese style.”
He was doing everything exactly as he’d done eight years ago. She wanted to do the same. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to see it.”
He guided her along the path toward the bridge, saying, “We haven’t been formally introduced, which I suppose makes this rather scandalous.”
Violet stifled a laugh. Yes, this endeavor had set the tone for their entire relationship. They’d scarcely followed the rules. They’d been swept up in excitement and love and hadn’t cared about Society’s principles.
“I’m Mr. Nicholas Bateman,” he said.
“Miss Violet Caulfield.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Caulfield. You aren’t from Bath, are you? I believe I should know you if you were.”
“I am not; however, my aunt and uncle reside here, and I visit them every summer.”
“I am deeply saddened that we haven’t met before now. I live outside of town with my uncle.”
“I am just coming out,” she said, taking in his profile. She tried to see it as she had then, but it was difficult. Because she knew him, and she couldn’t forget all that had transpired. She could, however, pretend, and she wanted to.
“Does this mean you’ll be attending the fancy ball on Thursday?” he asked. The bright sound of hope threaded through his question now as it had eight years ago.
She nodded. “I will. And I’m allowed to go to the Pump Room.”
“Tell me when you plan to go, and I will be there too.”
They reached the bridge, and she said, “Oh, this is beautiful. Thank you for bringing me.” She looked down at the canal, then turned to face him, her arm still twined with his. “Are there boats?”
He pivoted with her, his face so familiar, so dear. The Duke of Ice was nowhere to be found today. This Nick looked younger, softer, more relaxed. Maybe thiswasa dream.
“Yes. Would you like to take one out someday?”
“I should ask my aunt and uncle.” She recalled what she’d been thinking then, that she didn’t want to tell them about Nick, that she was afraid they’d tell her she couldn’t see him. She’d been young, just nineteen, and not quite on the Marriage Mart. “They won’t mind,” she said as she had eight years ago, intending to take a boat on the canal with him whether they approved or not. She’d known then that something magical was happening, that this chance meeting would alter the course of her life.
“I shall look forward to it,” he said, looking down at her with such warmth that she wanted to sway into him, as she’d nearly done eight years ago.
Then she’d caught sight of her maid about five yards away and realized she ought to return to the hotel before she was missed.
“I should go back.” She looked up at him but didn’t move. She didn’t want to go back.
She realized she meant that about the past too. After years of wishing she could rewind time, she didn’t want to anymore. She wanted him in the present. She wanted to believe that theyweremeant to be, even if it had taken a long time to get there.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Miss Caulfield, but you are very beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Still?” The word came out as a husky whisper, barely audible as the breeze stirred the leaves from the near-bare trees.
