by Burke, Darcy
Violet straightened in her chair. “Well, I, for one, refuse to find him guilty of a crime for which he hasn’t even been accused or tried. I think he’s charming and kind, and I am quite grateful for his assistance in the lake yesterday.”
“Oh yes, that was excellent of him to help the Duke of Kilve with his rescue,” Lady Kingman said.
Violet noted that she made it seem as if it had been Nick’s rescue, and while Nick had been the only gentleman to dive into the lake, Violet gave Simon full credit for his fast thinking. He’d had to dash around the lake—faster than anyone else—and quickly put out a boat to get to her. “He was most solicitous as he walked me to the house,” Violet added.
“You were nervous to be escorted by him?” The query came from Mrs. Stinnet, whose arsenal possessed less vitriol than that of Lady Nixon or Mrs. Law.
“Goodness no. I would do so again, in fact.” Violet seized the opportunity to be plain in her advocacy. “And if I had a daughter, I wouldn’t find fault with him courting her.”
“You’re still young, Lady Pendleton,” Lady Nixon said slyly. “Perhaps he’ll court you.”
Violet couldn’t agree without making it seem like she was interested in him—and she wasn’t. Instead, she orchestrated a neat maneuver. “I am past courtship, but if I were younger and on the Marriage Mart, I would be flattered by his attentions.”
“You must admit he’s handsome.” This came as a whisper from Lady Balcombe to her neighbor, Lady Colton. When she realized others had heard her, her cheeks blushed the color of Violet’s favorite dark pink peony.
“Well, I wouldn’t want him courting my daughters,” Mrs. Law said haughtily. “If they weren’t already well married, that is.” She exchanged a superior look with Lady Nixon, and Violet couldn’t control her irritation another moment.
“That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.” She stood abruptly just as a handful of the men strode into the drawing room.
Spinning about, she nearly collided with Nick. He caught her arm before she barreled into him. His touch streaked through her like the lightning in the sky on the first day of the party—hot and electric.
“In a hurry?” he murmured. “Walk with me.” He offered her his arm and escorted her from the room. “They’re setting up card tables next door.”
“I don’t want to play cards.”
“I know. But given the malevolent stares cast in your direction by Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law, I thought it best to remove you from the drawing room.” He guided her past the sitting room where the card tables were being set.
She tipped her head to look at him and drank in his handsome profile. His ivory cravat stood in sharp contrast to the darker cast of his skin. “Malevolent?”
“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 thinking this was 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 dawned cloudy 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.
Mrs. Law pursed her lips at her friend. “You shouldn’t call him that to his face.” Since she was saying that loud enough for him to hear, he knew she didn’t really find fault with it.
Lady Nixon gave him a mischievous smile. “He is well aware of what everyone calls him. And I think he likes it. Indeed, I think he’s cultivated that image. It takes effort to cast that much of a chill.” She slid a knowing glance toward Mrs. Law. “We should know, dear.”
Well, at least they were being honest about their behavior, even if they were talking about him as if he weren’t th
ere. “You do realize I can hear you,” he said.
Mrs. Law smiled broadly. “Of course, Your Grace. Now, are you going to offer us your escort to the field?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He offered each of them an arm and tried not to cringe when they touched him. Just allowing them close made him feel a bit sullied. He might be cold, but he didn’t set out to insult anyone. He just preferred they stay away from him. On the contrary, these vulgar beldams liked to be the center of attention.
“We must be honest with you, Duke,” Lady Nixon said briskly. “We couldn’t help but notice you paid attention to Lady Pendleton last night. We can’t presume to know your plans; however, if you were to solicit our advice—and we would endorse such an endeavor—we would encourage you in another direction.”
Nick wanted to tell them off in much the same fashion Violet had the night before, but that wouldn’t suit his purpose. “I thought it best that I escort Lady Pendleton from the situation last evening. She seemed upset.”
“Oh, well done of you,” Mrs. Law said, squeezing his arm. “She is fortunate you were so quick thinking.”
Lady Nixon craned her neck to look up at him. “It seems you can’t help yourself from playing the hero this week. How utterly charming.”
“I’m sure you’ll agree that my good friend the Duke of Romsey has done the same. I’m confident he would’ve acted in the same manner last night if he’d been in the drawing room.”
Mrs. Law wrinkled her nose. “Your friendship with him is a bit odd, isn’t it?”
These women really had no shame. Or sense of propriety when it came to conversing. Did they think they were immune to Society’s rules? “We’ve been friends since Oxford. I find nothing odd about it. He has been a loyal support, and I treasure his friendship.”
“I think I understand what you’re attempting to do,” Lady Nixon said. “You must understand that our reticence regarding the Duke is not ill-founded.”
“No one knows what happened that tragic night, and no one is more devastated by that than Romsey.” He slowed to a halt and carefully gave each of them his iciest stare. “I would advise you to leave the matter where it belongs—in the past.”
Lady Nixon scoffed. “Even before that…incident, he was a terrible rake.”
Nick detested gossip, but he remembered a few key things, and in this instance, the recollection was going to be quite useful. He lowered his lids and gave her an assessing look. “If memory serves, you would be one to know.” At her shocked expression, he stifled a satisfied smile and started walking once more. Luckily, they were almost to the field. “I think I should remind you that he is a duke. And not the Duke of Ruin, as you are so fond of calling him. He deserves your deference, if not respect.”
Both women were apparently tongue-tied. Good.
“Oh, here’s Miss Kingman,” Mrs. Law said as they reached the field, breaking the blissful silence far too soon. She withdrew her hand from Nick’s arm. “Come and join us, dear. Will you be shooting?”
Lady Nixon removed her hand also and took two steps away from Nick.
Miss Kingman, a petite, dark-haired young woman with enigmatic eyes, glided toward them, her light wool skirts skimming the grass. “Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”
Mrs. Law turned a smile toward Nick as if he hadn’t just taken her to task. “Perhaps His Grace will assist you.”
Hell and the devil. He’d neglected to inform them he wasn’t on the Marriage Mart.
“Oh yes, that’s a capital idea,” Lady Nixon agreed. Her gaze narrowed slightly as she regarded him. “You simply must help her.”
Every part of him cried out to make his excuses and walk away. And yesterday, he would have done so. But today, he was on a quest to help his friend. “It would be my pleasure to help you practice, Miss Kingman. Shall we?” He gestured toward the footmen who were preparing the bows for shooting.
They strolled toward the shooting area, where a line of targets were set up at varying distances. A few were quite close—maybe fifteen feet. A few more were farther out, at least twenty-five feet. Two were set at a great distance of about seventy yards. “Which target will you be aiming for?” he asked.
Miss Kingman was very young. He’d guess her to be about twenty. “I’ve only shot a few times, so I’ll start with the closest one.” She accepted a weapon from one of the footmen.
“You’ve shot before?” Nick asked while glancing around. Other people were already here taking aim, but not Violet. Simon wasn’t here either.
“Yes, but not for a few years.” She took a position before one of the nearest targets and lifted the bow. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the string and let the arrow fly. It fell to the earth about two feet before the target. She laughed nervously. “Well, that was terrible.”
“It wasn’t, actually. Do you want some advice?”
She turned toward him. “Yes, please.”
“Don’t hold it so tightly. Relax your hand on the bow before you release. You might also consider widening your stance a bit.”
The footman handed her another arrow, and she took her time before pulling the string. She did as he instructed and loosened her grip just before she let the arrow fly. The arrow hit the target but didn’t stick.
She turned to him, her eyes bright and her lips parted. “It almost landed.”
“You did very well.”
She blushed slightly. “You’re very kind to help me.”
“As I said before, it’s my pleasure.” Just then, he caught sight of Simon arriving—with Violet on his arm. A bead of irritation worked up his spine.
“Shall I try one more time?” she asked.
Nick tore his gaze from his best friend and his former lover. “Certainly.” He resisted the urge to turn his head and focused on assisting Miss Kingman.
She did much better this time, and her arrow hit the target, albeit on the outer edge. “I did it!” she exclaimed.
“After a few more shots, you may be ready for the next distance.”
Her expression dimmed, and he noted her gaze was directed past him. He turned to look and saw her father watching them. The baronet smiled and waved.
Miss Kingman touched Nick’s sleeve, drawing his attention. “Thank you again.” Her gaze was soft and earnest. “I appreciate you spending time with me. But don’t feel as if you have to stay.”
Was she trying to hint that he should leave? Something about her demeanor reflected discomfort, despite the fact that she’d touched him. He might’ve thought it was a flirtatious gesture, but he wasn’t sure that was her intent.
Regardless, he did want to go. This was the most time he’d spent talking to people he barely knew—first to Lady Nixon and Mrs. Law, and then to Miss Kingman. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out in case you require my assistance.” He apparently hadn’t forgotten how to be polite. This was a surprising relief.
“Thank you.” She turned to the footman to get another arrow, and Nick took his leave.
He looked toward Simon but didn’t see Violet with him any longer. A quick scan of the field revealed her standing with their hostess, their heads bent in conversation.
Nick strolled toward Simon, who met him more than halfway and set the tone by giving him a sly grin. “Heaven forfend, is the Duke of Ice thawing?”
Scowling, Nick offered a grunt in response.
“There’s the surly friend I know.” Simon’s smile didn’t falter. “You looked friendly with Miss Kingman. Is there a chance you’ve changed your mind about seeking a wife?”
“I was helping her shoot. Or maybe I was determining her interest in you. You’re the one who wants to remarry.”
Simon’s eyes rounded briefly. “Egads, no. She’s far too young. I’d prefer a lady of experience. Maybe a widow.”
Nick’s gaze strayed to Violet. She was a widow. No way in hell was he going to steer Simon in that direction. “You shouldn’t discount a woman because she’s young. You m
ay be surprised. I believe the other single ladies in attendance are a bit older.”
“Perhaps slightly.” Simon stared at Nick. “Good God, you’re trying to play matchmaker.”
“Don’t look so bloody surprised. You did say you wanted to remarry.”
“Yes, but I don’t have to find her here.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and he turned his head. Toward Violet. “Lady Pendleton is older. And a widow. And rather attractive.” He looked back to Nick, his expression unabashed. “Would that be distressing to you given your shared past?”
Hell yes, it would be distressing. Nick had suffered imagining her with her bloody viscount husband. But a friend?
She is your past, not your future.
As usual, he kept his emotions as hidden as possible. “I don’t know. It might be…odd.” What a goddamned understatement. Seeing her here at this party had shaken him. For the first time in years, he was interacting with people and he was feeling. The sooner he could get away from her, the better. If she married Simon—God, the thought of that seared his insides as if with a hot poker—she’d be a part of his life forever. He didn’t think he could endure that.
“Well, odd isn’t too terrible,” Simon said affably.
Was he trying to be provoking? Nick buried another scowl and schooled his features into a hard mask. “Are you going to shoot in the contest?”
“Yes, you can outfish me, but I daresay I will beat you at archery.”
Nick’s gaze strayed to Violet once more. This time, she was looking straight at him. She smiled, and he turned his head from her quickly. Viciously. Agitation streamed through him as he regarded Simon. “You won’t,” Nick said softly in response to his challenge. “Prepare to fall.”
* * *
The archery contest began with the women, and the distances to the targets were slightly shorter than the men’s. Violet was shooting against Miss Kingman, Lady Lavinia, Hannah, and Lady Adair, the sole woman over the age of thirty who was participating.
