Page 35 of A Duke Reformed
Emma pulled out her notepad again. "Since you have no interest in courtship, today's lesson shall be about something far more pressing. Your reputation."
Solomon arched a brow. "That sounds dreadfully dull."
"It's not. We will be speaking particularly about associations. People you should or should not be seen with and why. The wrong company could damage your name beyond repair."
Solomon tilted his head, watching her with an expression that was both amused and resigned. "Very well, Miss Lockhart. I am all ears."
Emma gave him a sharp nod, as if pleased that he was finally taking this seriously, and launched into an explanation about the intricacies of social associations.
He listened. Truly listened. But as her voice filled the space between them, he couldn't ignore the nagging thought in the back of his mind.
He had let his guard down around her. Not just in the way he allowed himself to banter with her, or how he found himself genuinely enjoying her presence. No, it was something deeper than that...something he couldn't quite name yet. He made a mental note to figure out why. When he got the chance.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Emma, come! A dress!"
Emma looked up from her book, startled by Cecilia's announcement. Cecilia stood in the doorway of the drawing room with a curious expression on her face.
"A dress?" Emma echoed, setting her book aside. She had not ordered a dress.
Cecilia nodded and stepped forward, holding up a carefully wrapped parcel. "Lady Agatha collected it at the entrance and I took it from her to deliver it personally to you. The modiste's seal is on it and I know you didn't order it because we have never been to this modiste. She is far too costly. That only means someone sent this to you."
"A dress?" Emma repeated. "From whom?"
Cecilia shrugged. "The footman didn't say. It was simply delivered."
Emma's brow furrowed as she rose to her feet. It made no sense. She had not ordered a dress, nor had she any reason to expect a gift. Skeptical, but still curious, she took the parcel from Cecilia's hands and began to open it.
"Are you certain it's not for you?" Emma asked Cecilia, inspecting the package as though it might reveal some hidden trick.
"I am certain. Your name is on it," she answered. "Come on, hurry up. I want to see."
Emma hesitated before pulling at the ribbon, her fingers working carefully, almost reluctantly. It could be a mistake, hence she did not want to mishandle the wrapping just in case she had to rewrap it.
With careful fingers, Emma peeled back the last of the wrapping and lifted the gown from its box. The moment the fabric slipped through her hands, something caught in her chest. A strange, unfamiliar fluttering.
It was exquisite.
The kind of gown she had once admired from afar but never imagined wearing. Holding it now, she felt an odd mix of disbelief and something far more dangerous, something warm,something that made her heart beat just a touch faster. It was the most beautiful emerald gown she had ever seen.
"This cannot be for me," she murmured, barely recognizing her own voice. "Who would send this?"
Cecilia bent down and plucked a small, folded note that had slipped from the package. She glanced at Emma before unfolding it, her brows lifting as she read aloud,
"From the Duke of Montclaire. Thank you," Cecilia read and then cooed. "That is so thoughtful. He must really like the lessons."
"He didn't have to."
Emma smiled, but it wavered at the corners of her mouth. She ran her fingers over the fabric once more, feeling her chest tighten even more. No one had ever done something so thoughtful for her before.
Her father had spent the last couple of months selling off her jewelry, her gowns, anything of value to fund his endless schemes and keep the family afloat. She had grown used to watching her belongings disappear, piece by piece, until there was little left to call her own.
Yet here was a man, one who owed her nothing, giving her something so exquisite. So unnecessary. So... kind. A lumpformed in her throat, and she blinked rapidly, willing away the sting of tears.
"Emma, you are certain there is nothing more between you and the duke?" Cecilia asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. She tilted her head, watching Emma closely.
Emma let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Of course not. He was simply being polite."
