Nick handed his fifth salmon of the morning to the footman and set about casting his line again. The sun was just becoming visible over the tree line, which meant his solitude would soon be interrupted.

“You’ve quite a hand at this, Your Grace,” the footman said as he placed the fish in a basket.

Nick said nothing as he sank his line into the pond once more. Fishing allowed him to sit quietly without anyone bothering him or expecting anything from him. Whether he was on a boat in the ocean or beside a lake or stream as he was today, he enjoyed the silence, broken only by the sounds of the water and the creatures in and around it. The trill of a jay reached his ears, and he closed his eyes briefly, grateful for the calm.

“How long have you been out here?” Simon’s voice interrupted his peace.

Nick opened his eyes. “Since just before the sun came up.”

“Too early for me.”

“I didn’t expect you to join me.”

“Nor would you have wanted me to.” Simon clapped his hand on Nick’s shoulder briefly before dropping down next to him. The footman handed him a pole.

“You’re actually going to fish?” Nick asked, eyeing the equipment in Simon’s grip.

Simon grimaced as he cast his line. “I thought I’d try.”

“Admirable of you.”

“Yes, well, I think it behooves me to participate in the party’s activities, even if I’m the resident pariah. Though I wonder if I may be in danger of losing that title to you.”

Nick glanced at his friend, his mouth pursing. “I’d be happy to take it from you.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Trust me.”

“You forget that I like to be left alone.”

“And yet every time I come to visit, you seem to enjoy my presence,” Simon said bemusedly. “You’re fooling yourself, and someday you’ll come to realize that. I just hope it isn’t too late.”

Nick suffered his friend’s concern. “When would that be?”

“When you’re old and decrepit and everyone you know is gone.” Simon shot him an earnest stare. “I mean everyone.”

So many people were gone already. “That argument will gain you no ground.”

Simon exhaled. “I know. But I still have to make it every now and again. Just as I have to point out your atrocious behavior last night.”

Nick turned his head. “Atrocious?”

“Don’t pretend a stupidity you don’t possess. First you stood in the corner sulking like a boy denied his favorite sweet. Then you conversed rather brusquely with not one, but two women. The first went hurrying back across the room, tail between her legs, and I can tell you her father, Lord Balcombe, was not pleased. And the second…”

Nick looked back out at the lake, willing a fish to take his bait so that this infernal topic could be interrupted and hopefully avoided.

“It was clear to everyone that your conversation was heated—such a strange word to be associated with the Duke of Ice, or so I heard said—and that Lady Pendleton was flustered. She practically ran from the room.”

Nick watched a heron swoop down and take up a position on the opposite side of the lake in the shallows. The graceful bird glanced toward Nick and Simon but paid them no further mind as it stood stock-still in search of prey.

“Have you nothing to say?” Simon demanded.

Nick turned his head once more. “Did you ask me a question?”

Simon snorted. “You’re a beast. You should apologize to both women. You’re never going to find a wife if you behave in that fashion.”

“May I remind you that finding a wife is your endeavor? Furthermore, we’re dukes. We can behave in whatever fashion we please and still find wives.”

“There you are wrong, my friend,” Simon said good-naturedly. “As it happens, if you are rumored to have killed your wife, your marital opportunities are rather limited. If not nonexistent.”

“You didn’t kill her,” Nick muttered, knowing this was a futile argument, much as Simon’s regarding his chosen solitude.

“If only I could be as certain as you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Simon spoke again. “Who is Lady Pendleton? It seemed as though you knew her when we were introduced yesterday.”

Nick didn’t want to talk about her. Or think about her. Or remember anything to do with her. But he’d dreamed of her last night for the first time in ages. Only she hadn’t been the young, dewy-eyed girl he’d met eight years ago. She’d looked as he’d seen her last night—her high cheekbones more pronounced, her lips a deeper pink. And her eyes, so clear and honest in their youth, had been perceptive, more experienced, like stones polished after years and years in the bed of a stream.

“She’s no one important.”

“But you know her?” Simon persisted.

Nick ground his teeth. “Yes.”

“And she clearly strikes a nerve.”

She did indeed. Last night he had been sulking. Or perhaps brooding was a better word. Then that chit had come over to speak with him, and he’d done his best to scare her off. Not because he was a beast, but because it was better for everyone, especially the young woman.

Then Violet had approached him, and every inch of his body had reacted in a combination of hurt, regret, anger, and something wholly surprising: yearning. For a fleeting moment, he’d recalled what it had felt like to want her. He’d embraced the other emotions instead.

Even so, he couldn’t forget the glimmer he’d seen, the reminder of a time long past. A time before he’d gone to war, before he’d lost the rest of his family, before Jacinda and Elias.

“I knew her a long time ago,” Nick said softly, his gaze trained on the heron.

“Before we met at Oxford?”

Nick shook his head. “After.”

“You never told me about…” Simon sucked in a breath. “She was the woman. Christ, I’d forgotten all about her.”

Nick had told him he’d met a woman, but that she’d married someone else. By then, Nick had progressed from grief to anger. “You were busy at the time.”

“Raising hell,” Simon said with more than a touch of regret. He’d been doing what heirs to dukedoms did in London—gambling, chasing women, and drinking.

Nick was sure there were many things Simon didn’t remember, and he didn’t hold it against his friend. Simon had been through his own trials and managed to come through them with a far better disposition than Nick.

“I’m sure you don’t wish to speak of it, but remind me what happened beyond the fact that she broke your heart?”

“I don’t think there’s much else to tell, is there?” What good would it do to relive that fortnight?

Her parents hadn’t been in Bath when they’d met, and so he hadn’t been able to ask to court her. They’d met in secret, and Nick had anticipated asking for permission from her father to wed as soon as he came to Bath. However, when Nick went to Violet’s aunt’s town house to make his case for her hand, he’d learned that she’d left town the day before just as soon as her parents had arrived. His mind shuttered against what he’d discovered that day. He gripped the fishing pole tightly, the muscles of his hand clenching. “In hindsight, I don’t think my feelings were really that strong.”

“How can you know?” Simon asked. “Your relationship ended before it had really begun. It’s hard to say what would have bloomed if the seeds had been allowed to grow.”

“Stop trying to be a bloody poet.”

Simon flashed a broad smile. “Don’t pretend I don’t amuse you.”

A loud cacophony of chatter amidst the rustling of bushes heralded the arrival of the male members of the house party.

“Ho there! I heard you’d come down early, Your Grace,” Linford said with a hearty grin. He turned his smile on Simon as well. “And here you are, Your Grace. I am beginning to think that where I may find one of you, I shall find the other. How easy it will be for the young ladies to spot you.” He chortled and looked about to see if anyone else was joining him in his mirth. Seeing that they were not, his laughter turned to coughing and then he cleared his throat. “Shall we fish?”

Footmen had toted the fishing equipment, which the men were now clamoring to claim. Nick resisted the urge to pull up his line and return to the house. He doubted there would be much more to catch with all this commotion, but told himself to stay for Simon’s sake.

It was true that most of the attendees treated Simon with an odd deference that smelled a bit of fear. Some of these imbeciles clearly believed that he had killed his wife. If nothing else, Nick should do his best to disabuse them of that notion and encourage them to get to know Simon instead of listening to vicious rumors.

How in the hell was he—a man who sought and coveted his solitude—supposed to do that? He’d long forgotten how to be affable or charming.

Blood of the devil. His mood, already soured by the disruption of his peace and quiet, threatened to turn even darker.

He glanced over at Simon, noting that no one had sat on his other side. Reeling in his line, he stood. “This is an excellent spot. I’ve already caught several salmon.”

Lord Colton stepped toward him. “Indeed?”

“Go ahead, take it.”

“Are you certain?” the viscount asked.

“I insist.” Nick offered a bland smile before taking himself away from the crowd. He found an outcropping of rock, an ideal spot above the deepest water of the lake. He’d considered camping there earlier, but it had been rather slick at that dark hour. Now, it was mostly dried out thanks to the sun.

Nick sat down on the rock and wished he’d grabbed one of the blankets the footmen had brought. The stone was rather hard and cold. Ah well, at least he was relatively alone. He cast his line and tried to relax. Just as he was beginning to feel comfortable, he saw a flash of color across the lake. Blast. The women of the house party had come to the lake.

A handful of boats bobbed around a small dock. Evidently, they’d come to row. There’d be absolutely no fishing now. At least not with any success. Who the hell had planned this activity?

Several of the gentlemen called out across the water. The women waved in response. Though he tried not to, Nick picked out Violet among the group. She was taller than most, her blond locks covered with a tall, dark green hat that made her even easier to spot. She wore a costume that was a bit reminiscent of a riding habit, with a buttoned coat and sleek velvet trim. She was stunning.

He turned his head to find the heron and was disappointed to see it had gone. Lucky bird, he mused.

He tried to ignore the women clambering into the boats, but it was rather distracting given the noise they were making. He watched as Violet got into a skiff with one of the young unmarried women he was trying to avoid. Hell, wasn’t he trying to avoid everyone?

Scowling to himself, he averted his gaze from the boats. The lake wasn’t terribly large, so it was only a matter of minutes before one of them rowed into his line of sight. He hoped they knew enough to stay well away from the fishing lines.

To hell with it. He wasn’t going to catch anything else today. He stood and reeled in his line. Then he heard the loud clack of two boats colliding. He looked up from his pole just as one boat capsized. His eye caught a tall, dark green hat just before the boat went over.

Tossing his pole aside, he didn’t think. He dove into the lake and swam like hell.

* * *

The skiff completely flipped over, not only plunging Violet into the lake but into darkness as the boat landed on top of her. It didn’t strike her, instead creating a void above the water. She heard a shriek—from a distance—and surmised that she was alone beneath the boat.

The water was cold and thick, sucking at her skirts. She worried she would be pulled under from the weight of her wet clothing. She knew how to swim, due to Uncle Bertrand’s lessons, much to her aunt’s horror.

Violet pushed at the boat but wasn’t able to flip it back. She’d have to duck under it. Sucking in a deep breath, she braced herself to submerge. Before she could go completely under, she realized her hat would pose a problem. Bobbing back up, she pulled the accessory from her head and tossed it aside. Taking another breath, she tried again, this time dropping beneath the surface.

As soon as she was underwater, she felt a moment’s panic. The weight around her legs seemed heavier. She pumped her arms, trying to propel herself clear of the boat.

Suddenly, someone clasped her bicep and pulled her to the surface. She inhaled sharply and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly against the moisture clinging to her lashes.

Her vision filled with a familiar visage: Nick.

His gray eyes had taken on the color of storm clouds, and his lips were pressed into a nearly nonexistent line. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.” She tried to regain her equilibrium, and her gaze caught a dark head bobbing beneath the water several feet away. “Miss Kingman. You must help her.” She looked pleadingly at Nick.

“I’m not letting you go.” He used his free arm to pull the boat—which had somehow been flipped back over, perhaps by him. “Can you hold on to this?”

Violet nodded. “Yes.” She reached for the edge and clasped it with both hands.

“Don’t pull on it,” he warned brusquely. “It will flip again. Just hold on enough to keep your head up. Can you do that?”

She nodded again as her teeth began to chatter with cold.

He left her then and struck out, swimming beautifully, his arms slicing through the water, toward Miss Kingman. He pulled her above the surface and began to drag her toward the dock. She worked to keep her head up as he swam.

When they were almost to the dock and Violet felt as if her entire body was encased in ice, a boat came toward her. “Nearly there, Lady Pendleton!”

The Duke of Romsey rowed toward her. He came alongside the boat she clung to, trapping her between the boats. He came off the seat and sat down in the middle of the boat. “We must be careful not to capsize. I’m going to lift you. But I need you to turn and let go of the boat.”

Violet knew she would drop like a stone as soon as she let go. “I’ll sink.”

“You won’t.” He grabbed the back of the neck of her gown, startling her. “I’ve got you. Ready?” At her nod, he said, “Let go!”

She did as he instructed and relinquished her grip. She tried to turn, but she could barely move her legs in the weight of her skirts. And she was so cold.

Nevertheless, she left the water as he pulled her up over the side of the boat. He dragged her inside, and she collapsed on top of him, her back to his front.

“Don’t move,” he said, breathing heavily. After a moment, he wriggled from beneath her. “We need to even our weight across the skiff. Can you move to that end?” He gestured to the front, where she was facing.

“Yes.” Feeling as though she was draped in armor, she slowly worked her way forward to the front of the boat.

“That’s it. Wonderful.” With his encouragement, she made it all the way, then turned her head. He was at the back and had already picked up the oars. “And away we go,” he said cheerfully, as if she hadn’t just fallen from a boat and wasn’t shivering so badly, she feared her teeth might fall out.

The duke rowed them to the dock, where a footman grasped the side of the boat and another one helped Violet step out. She was quickly bundled into a blanket, and Hannah rushed toward her. Her friend’s face was stricken. “Are you all right?”

“I-I-I’ll be f-f-fine,” Violet managed. As she stepped from the dock onto the path, she saw Miss Kingman wrapped in a blanket between her parents, who were ushering her toward the house.

“What a disaster,” Hannah cried softly. “I do hope you and Miss Kingman don’t catch cold.” She glanced up at the bright sky. “I’m grateful yesterday’s storm has given way to fairer weather today. Even so, we need to get you to the house.”

Violet wondered what had become of Nick. She turned her head and saw him standing about twenty feet away, his gaze locked on her. His features were impassive, but in the lake, she’d seen the concern in his eyes. Was there any chance he might still feel something for her? Something other than animosity? He’d been so cold last night, but today, he’d come to her rescue. Hope fluttered in her chest, and she smiled.

He turned abruptly and started toward the house, his long legs devouring the uneven earth as he skirted the path. Another chill swept over Violet, and she shuddered.

“Come, let’s get you to the house,” Hannah said.

“You sh-should stay with your g-guests,” Violet said with a weak smile. “I’ll find my way.”

“I should be happy to accompany you,” the Duke of Romsey offered. “I’d give you my arm, but I daresay you should keep yourself as covered with that blanket as possible.”

“Yes, probably.” Violet took in her friend’s expression of distress. She truly looked as though she might cry. “Everything will be fine, Hannah. This will be an amusing story, you’ll see.”

Hannah nodded but didn’t appear entirely convinced.

Violet started up the path alongside the duke. “Thank you for r-r-rescuing me.”

“It was my pleasure. Indeed, perhaps this will improve my reputation at last.”

She looked at him askance and saw that he was grinning. Plus, she’d heard the self-deprecation in his voice that said he was no stranger to being maligned. “I hope so. I’m afraid I can’t believe the rumors about you. You seem far too kind.”

“Rumors, I’ve found, are usually based on at least a kernel of truth.”

It was an enigmatic statement, but she wasn’t sure she had the courage to ask what he meant. Was he trying to say he had somehow been involved in his wife’s death? Violet was saved from a response of any kind when he continued.

“Take Nick—Kilve, I mean. He’s the Duke of Ice, and it’s not a wrong description. He is as cold and unemotional as they come.”

Now. Violet barely recognized this Nick.

“He wasn’t always like this—I’ve known him since we were at Oxford together. Longer than you, I think.”

She snapped her head to look at him. “He told you about me?”

“A bit.”

Those two strained words hinted at things she didn’t want to revisit—not just now. “No, he wasn’t always like this. Nor was he a duke. How did that happen?”

“A series of misfortunes befell his family. He inherited from his uncle.”

“I take it his brother died?” Though their affair had lasted only a fortnight, Violet had learned many things about him. Still, there was so much she didn’t know. And likely never would.

“At Badajoz, fighting alongside Nick, actually.”

She looked over at the duke. “Nick served in the army?” She hadn’t known what happened to him after she’d left. Her parents had removed her from Bath as quickly as possible and nearly as quickly had married her off to Pendleton. She hadn’t looked back, despite wondering what had happened to Nick. She’d decided it was too painful to hold on to something—someone—she couldn’t have.

“His uncle bought him a commission.”

She imagined him going off to war. Would he have done that if she hadn’t left? She recalled that his older brother had been a soldier. “Did he go because of his brother?”

“I think so. And he…needed a change. Or so he said. I admit we weren’t terribly close at that time. I was too busy drinking my way through London.”

“I see,” she murmured, not knowing quite what to say to that. “But you’re close now?”

“As close as he allows. He was different after Badajoz and…other things that aren’t my place to discuss.”

Curiosity fairly burned inside her, but she wouldn’t ask him to disclose Nick’s secrets. “I cared for him a great deal. It pains me to see him so removed. So cold.”

“It does me as well, I must admit.” The duke’s gait slowed as they neared the house. “Is there a chance you still care for him?”

Though she was still quite cold, Violet paused and turned toward him. “I will always care for him.”

It was more than that, but she wouldn’t say so. She loved him still, and seeing him again had only reminded her of that fact. She’d thought she could keep him in the back of her mind, a distant memory that, if handled with care, could bring her joy.

“That’s good to hear. Nick needs people who care for him. He works damn hard to make sure they don’t.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I’m not sure I know the answer to that. It’s complicated. He’s complicated. He’s been through a great many trying circumstances, and I think he’s perhaps forgotten how to live. If there’s any chance at all you could remind him, I would encourage you to do so.”

“What exactly are you saying, Duke?”

“I think you should call me Simon. I saved you, after all.” He grinned at her, and she decided she liked him no matter what. “I’m saying that Nick needs something. Or someone. I was able to get him to this party—which was no small feat—but I fear that he’ll return home and go right back to his solitude.”

“I don’t know if I can prevent that.” Aside from rushing to her aid in the lake, Nick had given her no inkling that he was interested in having a conversation with her, let alone any kind of relationship.

“I don’t know if you can either. But if you wanted to try, I’d be grateful.”

The breeze stirred, and she shivered again.

Simon rolled his eyes. “I am the worst rescuer, keeping you out here in the cool autumn air. Come, let’s get you inside.” He ushered her into the house, where a maid informed her that a hot bath was being prepared in her chamber.

As Violet climbed the stairs, she looked forward to being warm. More than that, she looked forward to seeing if she could thaw Nick and bring him warmth too.