“Here we are,” Simon called as they rode into Wells the following afternoon.

Nick dragged his mind from where it had been focused all morning and last night: on Violet. Kissing her had been a foolish mistake. If he’d been thinking clearly, he would’ve realized that. If he’d been thinking at all. Instead, his body had taken over.

And it had tried to do the same last night when he’d accompanied her outside. He’d come so close to kissing her again and perhaps even ravishing her right there.

He’d behaved abominably, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He wanted her. He didn’t want to want her. It was a bloody disaster.

Stalking back into the house, he’d gone straight for his room and a bottle of whiskey. Except she’d accompanied him. Or it had seemed like it. Donning his coat when he’d stepped inside, he’d been instantly enveloped in her warmth and her scent. The torture had been keen and long-lasting. Even now, he smelled wild roses and longed for a touch he couldn’t have.

Only he could. He was fairly certain she would’ve been receptive to him last night. She’d said as much when saying she wished their kiss had lasted longer. That had nearly driven him over the edge of his control. And therein lay his blasted problem. He refused to lose control.

They slowed their horses as the cathedral came into sight. The other guests were traveling by coach and would arrive soon.

“What happened to you last night?” Simon asked.

Nick snorted. “Took you long enough to ask.”

“Does that mean you’re eager to tell me? Excellent.”

“No, it means I know you,” Nick said. “That you didn’t besiege me immediately is perplexing.”

Simon guided his horse to a walk. “It’s difficult to have a conversation while riding as fast as we did. And since you kept to yourself all morning, I had no choice but to bide my time. Stop avoiding the question. What happened last night? I can tell you’re in a foul mood. Or is this all due to yesterday afternoon’s mischief in the ballroom?”

“Can we just not discuss it?” Nick massaged the bridge of his nose.

“We could, but that would be dull as hell. I must admit I was shocked when you kissed her. Did you shock yourself?”

“Yes.” And he’d just done it again by answering honestly.

“How wonderful,” Simon said. “And now you’re back to brooding. Angrily, I think. I take it she rebuked you?”

“No.” On the contrary, she’d all but invited him to do it again. Which he should have.

No.

Simon grinned. “Even better.”

Nick scowled at him. “No, it’s not. I told you I didn’t want to talk about this.”

“Actually, you asked if we could avoid the topic, which was rather polite of you.”

“You’re being the opposite of polite.”

“Not at all. I think you’ll feel better if you talk about it. Although I’m confused as to what happened. She didn’t rebuke you, and yet you’re clearly in knots. Explain yourself.”

Nick drew his horse to a stop in front of the cathedral and dismounted. Frustration, building inside him since yesterday afternoon, exploded from him in waves. “What the hell do you want me to do?”

Simon slid to the ground, his eyes widening for a moment. “Bloody hell, man, you’re really in a fit. I should think what you ought to do would be obvious. She wants you. You want her. I think you know what happens next.”

Yes, he did, and damn it, his cock was fairly twitching at the thought of it. In front of a bloody cathedral.

He took a deep breath of the cool autumn air. The day was overcast but dry, and the breeze had strewn leaves around them as they’d ridden to town. The journey had been bucolic and would have been pleasant if not for his wretched mood.

Nick tied his horse to the post. “We had our time eight years ago, and it’s finished.”

Simon followed suit. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You have a second chance. What I wouldn’t give—” He finished his task with a hard set to his jaw.

Contrite, Nick exhaled. “This is different,” he said quietly. “Violet chose another path.” One that had led to loneliness and discontent. He could imagine that was his fault, that her time with him had caused her misfortune. He was fucking cursed.

Simon came around his horse and turned to look up at the cathedral rising before them. “You’ll regret it, I think. Life is too short. You know that.”

Yes, he did. And yes, what he wouldn’t give for a second chance to have Elias in his arms again. And Jacinda. Yet he had to admit his feeling for her had never been as strong as what he’d felt for Violet. He attributed that to being young and stupid. He was neither of those things anymore, which was why he would steadfastly guard his heart.

“The only thing I regret is allowing people too close.” He shot Simon a disgruntled glance. “You included.”

“Nonsense. Without me, you’d be a complete animal instead of just a beastly man.” He angled himself toward Nick, his eyes sad. “I don’t think you regret that at all, actually. You resent losing them, and I finally understand that you blame yourself for their loss. It’s all a risk, Nick. We love, we lose, we feel. Even when the pain is enough to make us weep.”

Nick hadn’t cried since Elias had died. He’d sworn then that he wouldn’t shed another tear. And that meant eliminating any vulnerability.

“You can’t control everything,” Simon said. “As much as we want to, it’s all chaos in the end.”

Nick couldn’t argue with him. Long-suppressed emotion clogged his throat, but he forced it down. “I hate that.” He hadn’t been able to control anything. They’d all died—his brother, his uncle, Jacinda, Elias.

“I understand.” Simon came toward him and gripped his bicep. “It’s why I don’t drink anymore. I wasn’t in control…then.” He dropped his hand. “If I had been…”

The unspoken words hung in the air—he could’ve saved Miriam if he hadn’t been drunk. Whereas Nick couldn’t have saved any of them. With the exception of Jacinda. Since she’d died giving birth to Elias, he blamed himself.

“I can’t go back and change things,” Simon said, drawing Nick back to the present. “All I can do is make different choices. And I choose to live.” He speared Nick with an intense stare.

Nick blinked at him slowly. “I choose not to feel.”

Simon threw his hands up. “You’re hopeless.”

“Would it surprise you to know that I am considering marrying again?” Maybe it was the attraction he felt for Violet. Or maybe it was the fact that he had allowed emotion to creep back in since he’d come to this bloody party. Perhaps it was Violet’s insistence that he shouldn’t be alone. Whatever the reason, he could marry again, provided his bride understood the requirements.”

“Hell yes, it would surprise me.” Simon cocked his head in skepticism. “In fact, I don’t believe you. You just said you choose not to feel.”

“I don’t need to feel to marry.”

Simon coughed. “Tell that to your wife!”

“I will. She’ll understand that I won’t ever love her. Contrary to what you say, I’m not really a beast.”

“No, just an insensitive, selfish ass. Nonetheless, you will likely have no trouble finding someone to accept your terms. You’re a duke and an Untouchable to boot. Many women would sell their souls to the devil to be your duchess.” His brow furrowed. “On second thought, I might be wrong. Otherwise, I’d be remarried already.”

Nick knew that Simon was trying to bring a bit of levity back to the conversation, if that was possible. “I didn’t mean for that to take such a maudlin turn,” Nick said. “My apologies.”

“I didn’t either. I’m just trying to be your friend. I care about you, whether you want me to or not. And I know you feel the same.” He gave Nick a wry smirk. “So much for your plan to ignore emotion. Come on, the coaches are arriving. We need to put on our house party faces.”

Nick nodded. He did care about Simon. And if Violet could somehow make him the hero of the day, perhaps his wishes would come true. That would make Nick happy.

They walked to the coaches just as Violet stepped down with the assistance of the groom. She wore a dark blue day dress with a rich brown spencer. Blond curls brushed her temples beneath the brim of her fetching hat. She was beautiful, and he wanted her as fiercely now as he had last night.

It was a damn good thing this party would be over after tomorrow.

* * *

As Violet stepped out of the coach, her gaze instantly landed on Nick. He stood next to Simon—they’d ridden ahead—about twenty yards away. He looked rugged and handsome in his riding costume, and her body reacted with a jump in warmth.

No. She wasn’t spending another day pining after Nicholas Bateman. Rather, the Duke of Ice. He’d made his choice quite clear—he wanted to be alone. Well, she’d let him.

Diana emerged from the coach behind her, followed by her mother and then Hannah. The latter two gravitated toward another group of ladies that had disembarked from another coach, leaving Violet and Diana to walk together toward the stunning west entrance.

The younger woman looked to the side, in the direction of Nick and Simon. “The dukes are here.”

“Yes.” Violet didn’t particularly want to talk about them. She looked up at the impressive façade instead. “The cathedral is gorgeous.”

“Indeed. I’ve visited the cathedral in Canterbury. It’s larger than this one, I think.”

“Where Thomas Becket was killed?” Violet asked. “What a gruesome event. I don’t think Wells has anything so disquieting to offer.”

“No, but I hear the library is excellent, and the octagonal chapter house is of special note.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing that,” Violet said. “What are you hoping to do today?”

“Nothing particular.” Again, Diana glanced toward the dukes. “Can I ask you something? I’m afraid it may be a bit forward.”

Intrigued, Violet looked at her profile. She was as placid as ever, betraying nothing. Perhaps she and Nick would be a good match, she thought a bit sourly. Annoyed with herself for having such uncharitable thoughts, she exhaled. “Yes, you may ask me anything. I will answer to the best of my ability.”

Diana turned her head briefly. There was a bit of apprehension in her gaze. “Is there… Is there something between you and the Duke of Kilve?”

A tremor rippled through Violet, and she tried to emulate her companion’s serenity. “No.” That was the absolute truth. Now.

“Oh. I wondered…after Kiss if You Can. When he kissed you on the mouth.”

“I think he simply forgot the rules.” And she would be eternally grateful. Just having that one kiss—even if it was the last—meant everything to her. “The Duke of Romsey kissed you on the mouth, but there’s nothing to that, is there?” Violet didn’t mean to be indelicate but wanted to be clear that yesterday’s kiss had meant nothing.

“Of course not,” Diana rushed to say. “I just wondered when you and the Duke of Kilve disappeared for a while last night.”

Damn. Violet had hoped no one noticed. She’d arrived at the ballroom after her encounter with Nick outside, but he never had. It would have looked more suspicious if they’d both arrived, and she’d been relieved when he stayed away. Also because she wasn’t sure she could be in the same room with him after what he’d said to her. Knowing that she caused him to feel out of control but that he would do nothing about it was maddening. “I stepped outside for a few minutes. I’ve no idea where the Duke went. It does seem he doesn’t care for dancing.”

He had once. He’d danced with her several times during their love affair, and he’d been a wonderful dancer. She wondered if he waltzed. Probably not.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Diana said, making Violet’s insides squirm. “My parents would dearly love for me to make a match with him. I’m to endeavor to spend some time with him today.” She cast Violet a wry smile. “I’m afraid I’m not at all certain how to do that. He doesn’t seem overly interested in courtship.”

Violet had told him she’d make it known he wasn’t interested in marriage. “No, he isn’t.”

“I heard his wife and child died,” Diana said. “So tragic. It makes sense that he’s so reserved and perhaps afraid to marry again.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.” Maybe Diana understood him better than Violet did. But then Violet had the advantage of knowing him before tragedy had affected him. He’d been a different person. This man—this Duke of Ice—wasn’t someone she wanted. And that was perhaps the most painful thing of all. The Nick she’d loved and fantasized about was now a permanent dream.

Violet turned to Diana as they neared the entrance to the cathedral. “Would you be happy with someone like him?” Again she wondered if they wouldn’t be a perfect match with their aloof demeanors and carefully constructed exteriors.

“As I could be, I think.”

What an enigmatic response.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Simon greeted them.

So intent on her conversation with Diana, Violet hadn’t noticed their approach. “Good afternoon.” She curtsied to him and then to Nick, though she didn’t look at Nick’s face. She couldn’t.

“May I escort you inside?” Simon offered his arm to Diana.

“Actually, Duke,” Violet said, seizing the opportunity to help Diana in her endeavor. “Would you mind escorting me to the chapter house? I’m keen to see it.”

“I’d be delighted,” Simon said smoothly, giving his arm to Violet.

Nick presented his arm to Diana, and they entered the cathedral first, veering to the aisle on the right side of the nave.

“I believe the chapter house is this way,” Violet said, inclining her head to the left.

Simon guided her in that direction and sent her a look of confusion. “Why did you do that?” Simon asked.

“Do what?”

“Pair Miss Kingman off with Nick. Are you pretending to be obtuse?”

Violet ignored his question. “Her parents are hoping for a match.”

Simon shook his head. “I do not understand you or Nick. You clearly want each other, are probably in love with each other, yet you run in the opposite direction.”

Violet darted a look toward Nick and Diana. He seemed…attentive. Jealousy snaked through her. “Nick has made his position clear. What we shared is in the past.”

“So he says,” Simon said with a snort. “I saw him yesterday when he kissed you in the ballroom. That is not the action of a man who feels nothing. I don’t care what he says.”

She’d thought so too, but he’d been absolutely forthright about their future—there wasn’t one. She stole another look at him and then jerked her attention back toward the stairs that led to the chapter room. “I’ve loved him for eight years, and I’ve clung to a fantasy that I never dreamed possible. Encountering him at this house party seemed like Fate dealing me a second chance, but it isn’t meant to be. I have to let him go.”

“Nick is an idiot,” he muttered.

She couldn’t disagree with him there. “Just look at this staircase.” Violet was happy to change the subject. “Shall we go up to the chapter room?”

“Yes, let’s.”

As they ascended the stairs, Violet thought of her plan to help Simon. Perhaps she could faint in the chapter room. She glanced behind her to see if anyone had followed but was disappointed to see they had not.

“Stop looking at Nick,” Simon said gruffly. “He doesn’t deserve your attention.”

“I wasn’t, actually. It appears that we’re alone.”

He threw her a wicked smile. “How scandalous.”

She laughed softly as they finished their ascent. The octagonal-shaped chapter room lay before them. A central column supported a ribbed, vaulted ceiling. Windows with ornate, geometric tracery marched around the room, and beneath them were niches topped with a variety of carvings. It was magnificent.

“I see why you wanted to come here,” Simon said.

She let go of his arm and walked to one of the niches. It bore the head of a smiling king. She didn’t dare touch the ancient stone, but studied it intently, marveling at the beauty the masons had created. “This must have taken so long. All these intricate carvings—and this is just one small part of the building.”

“Indeed.” Simon stood a few niches away. He ran his gloved fingers over the face of a cleric. “It’s marvelous.”

They lingered awhile longer, passing each other as they circled the octagon at their own pace. The exploration soothed Violet’s mood. Being inside a beautiful feat of spectacular engineering was rather humbling and offered welcome perspective. She’d survived without Nick and would continue to do so, just like this five-hundred-year-old room.

“Are you ready to continue on?” Simon asked near the top of the stairs.

“Yes.” She joined him, and he offered his arm. As they descended, she hoped they would run into someone in the nave so that she could launch her plan to make him look like a hero.

He was a hero, she decided. His care for Nick—and for her—made him a rare man.

On the last step before the landing that sent a branch of stairs toward the cloisters, her heel slipped. She tripped, her legs giving out as she tumbled forward.

And Simon didn’t stop her.

She fell onto the stone, her hands breaking her fall so that she didn’t slam her face into the floor.

“Dear God, Violet.” Simon was at her side in an instant, rolling her to her back.

She blinked up at him and tried to regain her bearings. Her heart beat furiously, and she felt shaky all over. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply.

He scooped his hand beneath her back, elevating her from the cold stone. He cupped his hand against her neck. She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her.

“Tell me you’re all right,” he demanded. His usually affable expression was stark with terror, his eyes dark and his lips pale.

“I am. I think.” Her hands hurt, but the pain was already beginning to lessen. She’d twisted her ankle a bit, but even that was improving as she began to realize she was out of danger. When she’d slipped, the rest of the staircase had stretched out before her. It would’ve been a nasty tumble to the nave.

With a shiver, she turned her head to look. And instantly froze. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, their eyes fixated on Violet in Simon’s arms were Lady Nixon, Mrs. Law, Mrs. Stinnet, and Mrs. Padmore. The four worst people that could witness this event.

“Simon,” Violet whispered urgently.

His gaze shifted down the stairs, and she felt him stiffen immediately.

“Good heavens, what’s happened?” Lady Nixon cried.

“Did you fall?” Mrs. Law’s question was thick with accusation. The implication was clear—Simon was once again alone with a woman who’d tumbled down the stairs.

“I tripped,” Violet said loudly. “Help me up,” she said far more quietly, so that just Simon could hear her.

He lifted her to stand. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he murmured.

“A little shaken, but I’m fine.” She kept her voice low, then flashed a brilliant smile at their unwanted audience. She curled her arm around Simon’s, and they started down the stairs.

Others had joined the spectators, including Hannah and her husband, Sir Barnard and Lady Kingman, Diana, and Nick. He stared up at them, his expression far more readable than normal. His eyes were wide with apprehension and his jaw set as if he clenched his teeth.

When Violet and Simon were a few steps from the bottom, someone whispered, “Did he push her?” Violet recognized that shrill voice as belonging to Lady Nixon.

Simon’s entire frame went completely stiff. Violet could feel the discomfort radiating from him. She squeezed his arm and threw a malevolent look toward the viscountess. “He did not. And I won’t tolerate such nasty rumors.”

Lady Nixon gave her an imperious stare. “There is no rumor. I merely asked a question.”

“Which I’ve answered,” Violet said coolly. “Indeed, the Duke saved me from a nasty fall. I’m quite fortunate he was there to rescue me.” She turned her head to Simon and smiled. He looked at her in confusion and then abruptly turned his head away. Offering a bright smile, she said, “Shall we continue our tour?”

He nodded, but turned her back toward the west entrance. “I need to go.” His voice was small, strangled.

“No, we should continue the tour as if nothing happened.” She exhaled in frustration. “Nothing did happen.”

“You did almost fall down the stairs. And I didn’t save you.”

She looked at him again, hating the darkness in his tone. “Nor did you push me. I slipped.” She paused, her fingers digging into his arm. “You mustn’t blame yourself. I won’t allow it.”

“You lied. You said you tripped and that I saved you.”

“I’ll say whatever I need to in order to keep those harpies at bay. You don’t deserve their condemnation.” He kept walking, and she continued at his side. “Nick and I will make this right—don’t worry.”

“Nick?” He glanced toward her. “You and Nick are going to fix this.” His skepticism weighed the air around them. “You can’t find your way to be together, but you can join forces on my behalf? I find that difficult to believe.”

“We’ve actually been doing it all week. The ballroom games were my idea. I wanted everyone to see the man I see.”

They’d reached the end of the nave, and Simon took her hand from his arm. He gave her a sad smile. “The man you see is a façade. Or a shell. Or something in between. You can’t fix this. Nick can’t fix this. No one can.” He turned and left, his long legs carrying him from the cathedral as if the very devil were chasing him out.

Violet watched him go, her throat tightening with sadness. That had been an unmitigated disaster. Nothing was turning out as she’d planned or hoped. She wished she could run from the cathedral after him.

Instead, she decided to take advantage of her surroundings and pray.