Page 56 of A Duke Reformed
"She was broken up until the day she died. She could never love again or even function properly like a happy person. She did her best, and in a way, I understand why she did what she did... but I cannot forgive her for it. And I cannot forgive the man that they call my father." Solomon paused and clicked his tongue. "Do you know he never wanted to find me? Even until his dying breath, he knew I existed but he did not want to look for me. But because he had no heir... no one to carry on his legacy, he named his heir in his final breath."
Emma took a step forward. "Solomon, I am so sorry."
"So, tell me this, Emma. Why should I continue that man's name?" he asked. "Why should I let the Miller name live on? That's all he cared about. He took my mother's happiness, and he turned my life upside down. The only way that I can ever get back at him is by doing this."
Emma's heart ached as Solomon's words sank in, his pain bleeding into every syllable. She understood him now, perhaps more than ever before. She understood the anger, the grief, the resentment. She stood there, on the verge of tears. How could she protest? How could she convince him that he should have children when he clearly explained why he didn't want to.
Solomon was right. He was a man defined by his father's mistakes, and perhaps the only way to find peace was to break free from it entirely. She couldn't tell him that he was wrong.
"It doesn't matter anyway," he continued to say. "I'll be leaving London soon, and when I do, I'll make sure to avoid coming back as much as possible. What's the point, really? This place, this world... it's all a trap. The wealth, the titles...they strip away any power a man might have to make his own decisions. I cannot be shackled by expectations that have nothing to do with who I truly am or what I want." He paused, his eyes meeting hers, the tension in the air palpable. "I survived the Season and with your help, I made some new business partners. So, I'd call that a success."
Emma swallowed hard, fighting the lump in her throat, but despite her best efforts, the tears began to fall. She quickly wiped them away, trying to hide her reaction, but it was useless. Her breath hitched, and the dam broke.
"Emma!"
Solomon saw her and the next second, the distance between them seemed to vanish as he took a step forward, reaching out for her. He was about to take her hand but she shook her head, retreating a few steps.
"I must go," she whispered, the words coming out shakier than she'd intended. "I cannot... I cannot stay here."
But before she could turn and flee, his hand gently grasped her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. "No," he said firmly. "You are not going anywhere. Not like this."
"Solomon, I want to go," she said to him. "I need to leave."
"And I'm asking you to wait," he whispered reaching for her face. "What did I say this time?"
"You're leaving!" she blurted through her tears. "You have made up your mind. You're leaving. You gotten what you wanted... your business partners and I am very happy for you. Now, I must go. My work here is done."
Emma tried to pull away from him, her heart pounding in her chest, so loud that it was ringing in her ears. But Solomon didn't let her go. He moved when she moved, blocking her path as she tried to escape. Every time she shifted to one side, he shifted to match her, closing the space between them deliberately. She moved backward, her steps becoming more frantic, but he was relentless, his presence insistent and shadowing.
Before she knew it, she found herself pressed against the cold, hard wall. Her breath hitched as she realized how close they were. Too close. He was practically breathing on her skin. Solomon stood in front of her, his eyes dark and his chest rising and falling with the same frantic pace that mirrored hers. She couldn't move, and for a moment she allowed that part of herself that she had been suppressing, the part that wanted to be in Solomon's arms, come to surface.
"Just give me one moment," he breathed, wiping her tears with both hands.
She turned her face away, trying to avoid the look in his eyes, but he gently cupped her face in his hands, turning her back to face him. Emma didn't trust herself to speak, so she staying silent, clutching on to his shirt.
Slowly, his thumb found her lips again and he traced her lower lip, staring at it like he was contemplating something. Then, as if the decision had been made somewhere deep within him, Solomon leaned in, his thumb slipping away just as his mouth replaced it. He slipped one hand around her waist, removing any iota of gap between them.
Emma pulled away slightly, breathless, her lips tingling, her chest rising and falling with each staggered inhale. "Solomon..." she whispered, her voice trembling with confusion and wonder.
But he didn't move far. His eyes, dark and stormy, searched hers with a kind of desperation she had never seen before.
His hand still cupped her face, and his thumb stroked her cheek. "You have no idea..." he murmured, catching his breath. "... how long I have been thinking about this, Ducky. Allow me."
There was a pause, a heartbeat suspended in air. And then he kissed her again.
This time, it was deeper, more insistent, more certain. There was no hesitation in his movements now, and Emma... Emma felt the world tilt beneath her feet. Her hands clung to his lapels as the kiss consumed her, pulling her under like a tide she couldn't fight. She couldn't fight it. She kissed him back.
Her hands moved before thought could catch them. Her fingers slipped up into his hair, burying themselves in those thick, dark curls she had secretly longed to touch. Her knees buckled beneath the weight of the intensity and the only thing holding her upright was Solomon's hand at her waist...strong and steady, anchoring her to him.
She clung to him, her heart pounding like thunder in her chest, and kissed him like she was pouring all the words she couldn't say into the that very space in time.
Emma, it can never be. Nothing can come of this.
Somehow, like a ripple in still water, a thought broke through the haze, the echo of reality slicing through the warmth of his lips and the safety of his embrace. A rude but much needed awakening.
She gasped softly, her lips parting from his as if she had awoken from a dream. Her breath was shallow. Her heart was still racing. She staggered as she tried to stepped back, her hands dropping from his hair, trembling.
"This was a mistake," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I apologize, Your Grace."
