“Good. Now, let’s rejoin the others. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”
Violet nodded, grateful for the moment of levity. She needed a distraction.
“Look who has decided to return to civilization!” Ambrose exclaimed as Nicholas arrived to his estate, as promised, the next day. “I had my doubts about you showing up, but it’s good to know that you’re a man of your word.”
“I always do what I’ve promised.” Nicholas arched a brow, stepping into the entry hall and handing his coat to a waiting footman. “Do not act so surprised.”
A laugh escaped his friend’s mouth. “No need to be this snappy, Nicholas.”
Nicholas shook his head, muttering something unintelligible.
But as they entered the drawing room, the easy banter died in Nicholas’s throat. His steps faltered, and he froze mid-stride. There, standing next to a group of guests, was Violet.
She did not notice their arrival for which he felt grateful. At the sight of her, it felt as though Nicholas’ heart had stopped.
He hadn’t seen her in over a week, and the sight of her hit him harder than he cared to admit. She looked thinner than before, her face more delicate, and there was a vulnerability in her eyes that hadn’t been there the last time they’d spoken.
His first instinct was to rush to her, to take her in his arms, and apologize for everything. But he couldn’t. He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t one he could undo so easily.
“Ambrose,” Nicholas said, his voice low and measured, “why, exactly, am I here?”
Ambrose turned to him with an exaggerated expression of innocence. “Why are you here? Why, Nicholas, you’re here for dinner, of course.”
“And you conveniently forgot to mention that Violet would be here.”
“Oh, did I?” Ambrose said. “How careless of me. Though, in my defense, it wasn’t my doing. My dear wife was responsible for extending the invitation.”
Nicholas clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Ambrose.”
Ambrose raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m merely an innocent bystander. This happened purely by coincidence.”
Nicholas’ first instinct was to leave. To turn around, walk out the door, and put as much distance between himself and Violet as possible. He knew he couldn’t trust himself around her.
But then he looked at her again. Truly looked at her. She was there, looking as lovely as ever. She seemed to be getting along fine without him by her side.
That stung.
Had she already adjusted to a life without? The thought alone hurt him more than he could have imagined.
He turned back to Ambrose. “I’m not staying.”
It was too painful to see her again.
“Oh, don’t be absurd,” Ambrose said, waving a dismissive hand. “You’ve already made the trip here. What kind of host would I be if I allowed you to leave before dinner?”
“I’m not hungry,” Nicholas said. He was about to turn on his heel and leave when movement caught his eye. His gaze sharpened as a tall figure approached Violet.
The gentleman inclined his head, his features marked by an easy confidence that immediately set Nicholas on edge.
“Is that the Duke of Devonshire?” Nicholas snapped at Ambrose.
Ambrose glanced toward the scene and nodded. “Yes, it is. I invited him, and he was kind enough to come.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened. “Why?”
Ambrose smirked, seemingly beginning to catch onto what was happening. “Because he’s recently taken his title, and it seemed polite to include him in the fold.”
Nicholas said nothing, his gaze fixed firmly on the interaction unfolding before him. Violet offered the Duke a polite smile, and they exchanged words he couldn’t quite hear from across the room. But whatever was being said, it was enough to draw a soft laugh from her lips—a sound Nicholas hadn’t realized how much he missed until that moment.
