Page 31 of A Duke Reformed
"What's yours?" she asked him and walked back to the window to lean by the wall. "What's your cause?"
A short silence ensued between then before Solomon slowly uncrossed his arms and leaned on the back of the sofa. "I don't want to tell you."
Emma raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Your Grace, I was honest with you. It would be nice if you were honest with me to as to why this is important to you. You said it yourself, this isn't entirely proper, and the only reason we should continue should be because of a priority that outweighs all else. So tell me. What is your cause?"
Solomon studied her for a moment, as if contemplating if he should speak or not. Finally, he sighed and folded his arms again. "Because I cannot be the one that ruins it," he spoke softly.
Emma stayed still, listening.
"Before all of this... before I found out who my father was, I was a simply a commoner living in North England, making a name for myself," he explained. "I was simply a businessman. I had a reputation... it wasn't a great one, but it was a respected one. Then this happens, and suddenly, I have other shoes to fill. Shoes that are very unfamiliar to me. I know of these plans of expansion, and business ventures that I must see through because it is expected of me. But I don't know how to talk to these people that are familiar with these shoes I'm trying so hardto fill. I need to blend it. I need it to be like I have always been here."
"I can do that for you," she said to him. "Like you said, I've lived here all my life, and I know theton."
"So, you're not worried about the rumors that might spread?" he asked.
Emma smiled. "Your Grace, I am not one to stir rumors," she explained. "If I were to be a debutante, then... maybe. But no one is really that interested in what I do. But they are interested in you. The difference is that you are the Duke of Montclaire. They won't question you. Also, I'll make sure to be careful from now on, so you are more at ease. Does that work?"
Solomon studied her for a long moment, silent and unreadable before he began to pace, thinking to himself. Emma watched him, purposely staying question so he could think through his worries.
Finally, he stopped pacing and looked up at her. "I think it's best if you stop walking here. The best I can do is make sure that we are never caught. That way, I can be at ease."
Emma blinked, confused. "What do you mean, Your Grace?"
"You will be picked up by a carriage every time we have a lesson together," he explained. "We won't always have our lessons here in the estate so we have to arrange for somewhere else..." hepaused and began to think to himself again. "Somewhere private but still... open. We can figure that out later, but for now, you will be brought here by a carriage."
Emma took a step forward. "Your Grace, doesn't that seem rather excessive?"
"It's not," he said firmly. "I'll hire someone discreet. One man. Trusted. Paid well to keep quiet." He met her gaze directly. "If we are going to keep doing this, then it's best to keep certain measures in place so no one gets... hurt."
Emma inhaled sharply before nodding. "All right. I will follow your lead then."
"Good," he said and let out a sigh of relief.
Emma straightened her back and crossed her arms. "Now... how did you get hurt?"
"It doesn't matter." He shook his head, walking over to the sofa to sit.
"Yes, it does," she answered and crossed the room to sit on the other end of the sofa. "Tell me. Did you get in a fight? Did you say something inappropriate to someone?"
Solomon interlocked his fingers, his thumbs pressing hard against each other."I was sparring with Andrew. I got hit," he admitted with a dismissive shrug."It was nothing."
Emma studied the bruise on Solomon's face again, still concerned by it. "You can't be seen like this," she said quietly. "It doesn't speak well of you."
"It's just a bruise," he said to her. "It will heal in no time."
"It's not just a bruise to them." She folded her hands in her lap, choosing her words carefully. "Thetonjudges everything, Your Grace. A visible injury makes you look reckless. Like you are an aggressive man. Most of them wouldn't even take the time to ask you about it before spreading absurd rumors."
Solomon's jaw flexed."Let them talk."
Emma gave Solomon a stern look that he seemed to catch almost immediately.
"I'm guessing that was the wrong response," he said, studying her face. "We don't want them to talk. But what can I do? It won't just disappear."
"Hopefully it heals on time, but a good tactic would be to make jokes about it before they get the opportunity to speak about it," she explained. "Make sure to mention it and clear the air that you didn't get it in an actual fist fight."
Solomon nodded slowly. "All right," he said and sat up. "Moving on. What are we discussing for today's lesson?"
Emma's fingers moved swiftly as she reached into the silk-lined depths of her reticule. Her fingertips brushed against the cover of her notebook, and she drew it out carefully.
