Page 21 of A Duke Reformed
Emma was walking beside Cecilia, her arm linked with Her's, while Howard led the way when Solomon stopped them in their tracks. It was easy to tell that her father was very excited to meet the duke again, but Solomon didn't seem bothered by Howard's enthusiasm.
Solomon placed both hands behind him, his sharp gaze shifting from Howard to the rest of the family. Again, like she had noticed before, he effortlessly commanded attention, his presence both imposing and magnetic. Her father, however, seemed entirely undaunted by the duke's aura, judging from how excited he looked to see the man.
"Greetings, Lord Lockhart," he answered plainly. "You're out for a morning stroll with your family, I take it?"
Howard beamed, clearly thrilled by Solomon's acknowledgment. "Indeed we are, Your Grace. The weather is far too fine to waste indoors. Isn't that right, ladies?" He turned to Emma and Cecilia, his eyes sparkling with pride.
Emma forced a polite smile, though her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Her father's lack of subtlety was painfully obvious, and she couldn't help but cringe as he gestured animatedly, his cane swinging precariously close to a passing couple. "Yes, Father," she said and cleared her throat. "It is a lovely day."
Cecilia, standing beside her, nodded quickly but remained silent.
Solomon's gaze flicked to Cecilia before settling on Emma. "Miss Lockart," he said. "A pleasure to see you again."
Emma inclined her head. "Likewise, Your Grace."
Howard clapped his hands together. "Your Grace, you must join us for a turn about the park! We would be honored to have your company."
Solomon hesitated, his gaze flicking to Emma as though waiting for her reaction. But before she could say anything, he nodded. "I would be delighted, Lord Lockhart."
To Howard's surprise, Solomon did not join him to continue the walk. He walked behind, by Emma's side as they strolled down Hyde Park. Dorothy and Phillip played in the front, chasing eachother and once Solomon started walking by their side, Cecilia took her cue and increased her pace to join her father in the front. She hadn't expected him to choose to walk with her, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. But she couldn't say anything.
"Your father seems... enthusiastic," Solomon said.
Solomon glanced at her, his eyes searching her face. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I know you're not the most cheerful person, but you seem awfully gloomy today."
Emma hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. She didn't want to admit that she was angry with her father, angry about the fact that they had no choice but to let Lord Pearlton keep being close to Cecilia just because the outlook might benefit them in the future. The thought of her sister being subjected to that man's advances, his leering smiles, his too-familiar touches made her blood boil. But she couldn't say any of that to Solomon. Not here. Not now.
"It's nothing," she said finally. "Just... family matters."
Solomon raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Family matters..." he repeated. "That's a rather broad term. Care to elaborate?"
Emma shot him a sharp look. "Not particularly, no."
"You can be quite impossible, Ducky," Solomon said and shook his head. "I'm following your instructions."
"No," she answered. "You're prying."
"This is prying?" he asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yes, Your Grace. It is," she answered.
Solomon scoffed. "So if I am to inquire about the pleasantness of the weather, that is deemed acceptable, but should I dare to ask after your family, I am suddenly guilty of unwarranted intrusion?"
Emma inclined her head. "Precisely."
"That is the most nonsensical distinction I have ever heard."
"It is not nonsensical in the least," she countered. "There is a huge difference between asking what I think of the weather, and asking about my family troubles."
"It is entirely nonsensical." He exhaled, shaking his head. "By your logic, I may ask if you favor tea or coffee, but I mustn't express the slightest curiosity as to why you favor one over the other."
Emma squinted her eyes, utterly flabbergasted by the manner in which his mind worked. This man took the simplest ofexchanges and unraveled them, picking apart their meaning as though engaged in some grand philosophical debate.
It ought to be frustrating. It was frustrating.
But yet, she could not deny the truth staring her in the face.
She was fascinated.
