Page 54 of A Duke Reformed
"Not here," he said, turning back to her. "You still owe me a lesson. We can talk then, Ducky."
Ducky.
Her breath caught at the sound of it. She relaxed instinctively, disarmed by the familiarity in his tone.
Before she could gather herself enough to reply, Solomon reached for the hand she still had resting on his sleeve. Slowly...deliberately, he took it into his. His thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles as he turned fully to face her.
"How's your wrist?" he asked.
Emma drew in a nervous breath. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
"Good."
He lifted his eyes from her hand, and for a moment, she thought he might meet her gaze. But he didn't. Instead, they dropped, slowly, almost reverently, down to her lips.
Emma felt the shift in the air as palpably as one feels the hush before a storm. His gaze didn't graze her, it settled, anchored there with an intensity that made her knees nearly buckle beneath her. It felt as though he were memorizing the shape of her mouth, the parting of her lips, the breath that trembled between them.
She dared not move.
The world seemed to collapse around that single moment, that single look. Without thinking, her lips parted slightly to say something that could fill the deep silence but Solomon's thumb – the one that had rested so lightly on her hand – moved, as if guided by some force beyond them both. Emma shut her eyes, as he brought it to her lips, his touch warm and barely there, yet enough to make her breath catch in her throat. His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, a subtle motion that made her pulsequicken, and she couldn't help but lean ever so slightly into the contact, almost as if she were drawn by some magnetic pull.
"Miss Lockhart?"
But before the moment could unravel... before she could decide whether to lean in or retreat, a voice pierced through it, shattering the fragile stillness like a dropped glass on marble. She gasped and stepped back, coming down from the clouds.
"Are you all right?" the voice came from behind Solomon, slightly distant.
As her vision cleared, she realized who it was. Lord Pembleton. "I'm fine, my lord," she managed to answer, trying to mask the slight tremor in her voice. She turned toward him, offering a reassuring smile. "I was just saying hello to His Grace."
Solomon, still standing near her, didn't even acknowledge Lord Pembleton's presence. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before his jaw tightened, and he began to turn away.
"I'll see you tomorrow for our lesson, Ducky," he said only to her.
Without waiting for her response, he stepped back, his broad shoulders brushing past the doorframe as he walked away without so much as a glance at Lord Pembleton.
The air seemed to shift again as he exited, leaving Emma standing in the hallway, her heart racing as she tried to steadyher breathing. Lord Pembleton, now standing at her side, appeared slightly puzzled but didn't press her further.
"You're certain you're all right?" Lord Pembleton repeated, more softly this time.
Emma nodded and smiled. "I am fine, my lord. Thank you."
Lord Pembleton's gaze lingered a moment longer, but he nodded. "I'll see you at the Featherington Ball then," he said. "Save me a dance."
Emma curtsied. "Of course, my lord."
Lord Pembleton's gaze softened slightly. With a final nod, he turned to rejoin the crowd, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared into the distance.
Emma stood still for a moment longer, her mind still tangled with thoughts of Solomon. Her pulse, which had yet to settle from their earlier encounter, was a reminder that her emotions were anything but calm. She tried to push the thoughts away, convincing herself that it was all just fleeting. It had to be.
But the deeper truth of her heart was already beginning to make itself known. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, Emma knew she was already too far gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
This is going to be the last lesson, Emma. After this, don't come back here.
Emma stood outside the door to Solomon's ballroom, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the door, her resolve hardening with each passing second. She had come to terms with it. This would be it. The last time she would step into the estate, the last time she would have to endure the tension that seemed to hang between them.
Things had gotten too complicated along the way. She had not imagine any of this happening. Her heart had betrayed her.
