Page 70 of A Duke Reformed
"I– I didn't..." she tried to say, but her voice faltered.
"I heard it from Edmund," he said, keeping his tone even. "He was in Northern England for business and he stopped by the estate. Apparently, he and Andrew are business partners. Talk of marriage came up and then we started talking about you. He looked at me like I'd grown horns when I asked him about the engagement. He had no reason to lie, or deny you so that only leaves one more truth. That you made it up."
Emma turned away, but not fast enough to hide the sudden shine in her eyes. "I don't know why you did it. I don't know what it was you were trying to run from. But you could've said something. You should have said anything."
Emma's gaze flickered away from him, her breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. She didn't speak at first. But then, almost in the blink of an eye, she curtseyed stiffly. "If you would kindly excuse me, Your Grace."
Before Solomon could say anything else, before he could attempt to explain further or somehow ease the tension between them, she turned on her heel. Solomon stood motionless, watching her retreat. He wasn't surprised by her reaction to him. It wasn't the first time she had run to avoid a conversation.
But he knew it wasn't over. They were going to talk about it. Uncomfortable or not.
"Papa, you don't understand. I don't think it's best we go."
The wind carried the sweet scent of spring blossoms through Hyde Park. It was the primarily the reason Emma had asked her family to promenade. They had been in the estate all day and she figured the serenity of the park would be good for them.
But if she had known that she'd spend the afternoon arguing with Howard, she might have reconsidered the walk.
"Emma, I refuse to argue about this," Howard said. "It's not up for debate."
Emma kept her hands clasped before her as she walked beside her father. Earlier that day, Solomon had sent them an invitation. At first, Emma didn't believe it. She had thought about him so much that when the butler announced that a letter came from his residence, she thought she was hallucinating.
Recalling their conversation from the night before, Emma noted how relieved she had felt when Solomon told her he was not engaged to anyone. She had not expected her heart to react so swiftly, but it had. It had lifted, settled, and warmed all at once. As much as she had tried to convince herself it didn't matter, some part of her had longed to hear those very words, and now that she had, she was not surprised by how glad it made her.The thought of Solomon belonging to another...of him smiling at another woman the way he used to smile at her was unbearable.
It was for this reason that she had to stay strong. Judging from her reaction to the news that he was not engaged, Emma knew she still had a long way to go. She needed to stay away from him. At least until her feelings for him subsided and she could bear the thought of him with someone else. Until then, she had to keep her distance.
"I still don't see why we must go," Emma insisted. "We don't have to attend every dinner party we are invited to."
Her father gave her a sidelong glance. "Because it would be rude not to, and rudeness is not a trait I plan to have associated with any daughter of mine."
"You've turned down plenty of invitations before," she pressed on. "Remember the Calverley's hunting weekend in Kent? Or the Viscountess Durham's musicale? You didn't even blink before saying no."
Her father gave a soft hum. A sound that was neither agreement nor dismissal. "Those were social calls. This is different."
Emma frowned. "It's the same thing, Papa!" she said, a little too sharply. "In addition, you barely know the duke. He's not even a close friend."
"All the more reason to attend," he insisted.
"But why must we suddenly oblige this one? Just because a duke requested it?" she mumbled.
Howard shook his head. "Because the duke did more than request, Emma. That letter may have been wrapped in polite words, but there was nothing casual about it. You may not see it, but I do. The tone was clear. He expects us there."
Emma frowned and looked away. She couldn't blame her father for wanting to attend Solomon's dinner party. Knowing the kind of man Howard was, he could never miss a function hosted by an influential man like Solomon.
Solomon expected her to come, and it was smart of him to go through her father's eagerness to associate with power. But the thought of being in the same room with Solomon made her stomach twist with unease. After everything that had happened at the ball, the things he said, the questions he asked, the lie she had no explanation for... how could she possibly face him?
She had run from him that night simply because she couldn't defend herself. She had nothing clever to say. No reasonable answer, and certainly not the truth.
It seemed as though fate was working against her. Of all the places Edmund could be. Of all the people he could have met. He had to cross paths with Solomon, and at the most unfortunate time. The lie Emma thought would fade into obscurity had taken shape, breathing, moving, following her like a shadow she couldn't escape. Now, Solomon was drawing her back into the truth she had tried so hard to outrun.
The absurdity of it all still made her feel lightheaded. She hadn't meant for the lie to travel far. She hadn't even expected Solomon to return, and most importantly, he had confronted her.
"We'll need new dresses for the dinner party. Something refined. It wouldn't do to show up before a duke looking last season," Howards voice roused her from her thoughts.
Emma stopped walking. "No, Papa," she said firmly, shaking her head. "We can't afford it. You know we can't. We've only just managed to stretch the little we have to keep the household afloat. You want to throw it away on gowns we don't need?"
Her father, unbothered by her protest, waved a hand as if swatting away her concerns. "Emma, it is not simply about the dresses. It's about appearance. Thetonmay whisper behind our backs, but they still watch us. The Duke of Montclaire has requested our company. That alone is enough reason to dress properly. If we are to salvage anything from this season, we must begin by accepting invitations from those who seek our company and responding accordingly."
Emma's brow creased as she quickened her steps to keep up with him. "Papa, we have dresses that are perfectly fine for the occasion," she said, a note of exasperation creeping into her voice. "It's a private dinner not a presentation at court."
