Page 64 of The Duke of Ice
“I can sense the joy in you. I do hope it all works out.”
“Thank you, Chalke.”
When Violet was ready for bed, she went into her chamber and paced. Her window overlooked the tiny back garden, which was so dark, she wouldn’t be able to see him—if he even came that way.
If he came at all.
Why was she doubting him? Because she still couldn’t quite believe he was here, that theymighthave a chance.
Teeming with nervous energy, she tightened her dressing gown around her and left her chamber. She made her way downstairs to the front sitting room. The street was somewhat illuminated, with lanterns spilling light at intervals.
Suddenly, she heard a commotion from downstairs. There came the distinct sound of a cat howling followed by a woman shrieking and then crockery shattering.
Violet dashed to the back stairs and flew down to the lower level. What she saw in the kitchen made her slap her hand over her mouth and her eyes goggle in shock.
Sprawled on the floor was Nick. The cook, Mrs. Spindle, stood over him, her chest heaving and her face bright red. She jabbed her finger toward him. “Thief!”
Chalke rushed into the kitchen in a state of half-dress, a robe pulled over her chemise but not yet fastened, carrying a candle. “What the devil?”
“A thief!” Mrs. Spindle repeated.
Violet lowered her hand. “He’s not a thief.”
Chalke met her eyes for a moment, then laughter spilled from her mouth. “Oh my goodness.” She knew precisely who their guest was.
“He’s, ah, a friend of mine,” Violet said lamely.
“Yes, a friend,” Chalke said, trying to stop laughing.
The butler ran into the kitchen at that moment, his coat askew and his hair tousled. “What—” His gaze took in the scene, and he looked to Chalke, blinking.
“We’ve a minor situation.” Violet summoned a serene smile that was quite at odds with the thundering of her heart. “Nothing I can’t handle if you’d care to go back to bed, Lavery.”
The butler straightened his coat. “I heard Mrs. Spindle shout ‘thief.’ Do I need to alert the magistrate?”
“No, thank you, Lavery,” Violet said hurriedly. “There’s no thievery going on. Just a bit of a commotion.” She smiled at him, hoping he would take himself off to bed.
“Look at this mess.” Mrs. Spindle gestured to the shards of pottery littering the floor. “He tripped over Ginger’s dish of milk and then sent some of the crockery flying. Thief or no, he’s a menace.”
Ginger, the orange tabby cat, came prowling back into the kitchen. She approached Nick, who gave her a stern stare. In response, she nuzzled his arm and began to purr.
“Traitor,” Mrs. Spindle muttered.
Nick stroked the cat’s head before standing. “I beg your pardon for breaking the pottery. Perhaps the doorway is not the best place for a cat dish.”
“Perhaps stealing into people’s houses isn’t the best way to spend an evening!” Mrs. Spindle retorted.
“So thereisthievery?” Lavery asked, sounding incredibly perplexed. He looked at Chalke, who couldn’t seem to stop laughing. Violet had to acknowledge the entire situation was rather amusing.
“It’s an excellent alarm should anyone—like you—decide to invade Lady Pendleton’s house.” Mrs. Spindle turned to Violet. “Why would your friend sneak in the back door?”
Chalke stopped laughing with a cough. She touched the cook’s arm while gesturing for Violet to take Nick upstairs. “Let me help you clean up, Mrs. Spindle.”
Violet took Nick’s hand and dragged him up the stairs to the ground floor. She continued up, but halfway to the first floor, she turned and broke into laughter, unable to control herself any longer. “What the devil were you doing?”
The light in the stairwell was dim from the wall sconce, but she could make out the arch of his brow. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I suppose so, yes, but couldn’t you have been more…discreet?”
