Page 44 of A Duke Reformed
Solomon caught the motion instantly and he had to fight his urge to grin. It was subtle, but on her, it was loud as a scream. What struck him most, however, was the fact that he had come to expect it. Anticipate it, even. As though he had learned her too well. When had that happened? How much time had they truly been spending together for him to read her like this?
"What is it?"
Emma's voice jerked him back to reality. He paused, allowing his attention to snap back to her. "What do you mean?"
"You looked like you were thinking," she answered. "Do you suddenly regret your actions?"
"Never," he answered. "I am not an impulsive man, Miss Lockhart. Impulsive men don't make good businessmen."
Emma raised both eyebrows. "So, you claim that what you just did was not impulsive?"
He hesitated, but only for a second. Not because he didn't know what to say, but because she'd caught him off guard. Again. A part of him was certain that she already knew the answer to her question. He could not brush off the fact that perhaps... Emma knew how to read him just as much as he had learned to read her. That was the unsettling thing.
The act itself, erasing the man's name from her card had been instinctive. The kind of decision that usually had no place in his world of careful calculations and strategical investments. It wasn't planned. It wasn't logical. And yet, he didn't regret it. Not in the slightest.
"I acted with intent," he said and cleared his throat. "It may not have been the sort of intent you would have preferred, but it was intent all the same."
Emma let out a short laugh. "Intent? What intent?"
Solomon's gaze, unbidden, dropped to her lips. Just for a moment. He had been wondering about them for days now. Her lips. What they might feel like beneath his. He didn't know when the thought had first planted itself in his mind...he couldn't trace its origin, only that it had settled there like an itch he couldn't scratch.
It was absurd. Inconvenient, and entirely out of character, yet, here he was watching the curve of her mouth as she smiled at him, awakening that strange pull. That maddening curiosity. He didn't like that it was happening. He didn't like that it bothered him. She was his employee. He had no business entertaining such thoughts.
"What on God's green earth is the matter, Your Grace?" Emma questioned, taking a step back. "You seem quite out of it."
Solomon cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet her gaze again, straightening his spine in an effort to shake the absurdity of it all. He could only blame his curiosity for this reckless drift of thought. "I just don't understand why you are so upset about this. Is this man someone you fancy?" he asked her in an attempt to pivot the subject.
Emma stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head slowly, the incredulity in her expression unmistakable. "That is not the point, Your Grace. People will talk."
"About what?"
"About us," she hissed, her eyes darting to ensure no one nearby had heard. "About a possible courtship. And I cannot afford that right now."
He looked at her as if she had spoken in riddles. "But why would that be a problem?" he asked, genuinely baffled. "You do want to find a husband, do you not?"
"Of course I do," she answered.
"Then another dance with me ought to be very beneficial to you. Being rumored with a duke...one as eligible as myself could only do you good. You'd have suitors lining up before the night ends. I was doing you a favor."
"A favor?" she echoed.
Solomon studied her, trying to make sense of her resistance. She should have been pleased by his actions... or at least flattered. She was the one who had taught him how thetonworked, and yet here she was, ready to scold him.
"While I am... surprised at how quickly you've come to understand the workings of theton," Emma said carefully, "I still think it best that we maintain a certain distance. For the sake of appearances, Your Grace."
Solomon's lips twitched, he watched her, still confused. "You think being seen with me would ruin your chances, Miss Lockhart?"
"I think..." she replied, lifting her chin. "...that it would complicate them."
"Is that why you don't want to dance with you again?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Because it would complicate things? What things?"
Emma shifted, her eyes darting away. That was answer enough.
His brows drew together, a flicker of irritation tightening his jaw. "You're keeping something from me," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Again."
Emma sighed. "Your Grace–"
"Do you not want to be seen with me?" he asked, more bluntly this time. "Are you so afraid of rumors that even a harmless dance is now off-limits?"
