Page 72 of A Duke Reformed
The three of them exchanged goodbyes and parted ways. Emma on the other hand, with her brows knitted, biting her lower lip, stood frozen in place, contemplating Lord Pearlton's words.
Solomon was the reason Cecilia could finally breathe again? The reason Emma didn't need to worry about keeping Pearlton at arm's length every time they were at any function?
She hadn't known. He had never told her. He hadn't even so much as hinted. Yet, she wondered if anything would have changed if he had told her he did what it did. She wondered if it would have made it even more difficult to let go of him.
A lump rose in her throat.
But what did it mean? Why did he go to such lengths? Why did he go as far as threatening another man for her sake? Even her father had never been able to protect Cecilia in quite the same way. But Solomon had taken it upon himself to put a man like Lord Pearlton in his place, so much that a difficult man like Pearlton backed away without throwing a tantrum.
The gesture stirred something deep inside her. Something she had fought for weeks to bury.
Emma drew in a slow breath and forced her feet to move, rejoining her father and siblings. Solomon was making it so difficult to forget him and now that he was back in London, hellbent on seeing her again... she wasn't sure if she could control her emotions if they were in the same room again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"You do know, he is not a fool?" Cecilia said to Emma. "Even a blind man would see how terribly you have been trying to avoid him all evening."
Emma stood beside Cecilia at the far end of the room, making sure to scan the area every two seconds. She had done her best not to look at Solomon for the duration of the evening... not when her family greeted him at the entrance, not even when he rose to address the room right before dinner was served.
Her chest ached from how long she had held her breath. He was only a few seats down, and yet it felt as though the entire evening teetered on the fragile space between them. She could feel his presence like a pull, and still, she refused to give in to the instinct to look. If she did, she feared she would find his gaze already on her, and she did not know what that would do to her.
Emma folded her arms tightly across her bodice and looked away. "I have not been avoiding him, Cecilia. Don't be ridiculous."
Cecilia scoffed. "I am the one being ridiculous? Me? My very self? You didn't look at him when we greeted him at the entrance. Papa did all the talking for almost five long minutes. You pretended to be completely fascinated by that dreadful painting during the toast, and when he walked past just now? You turned your entire body toward a wall, Emma."
Emma sighed, rubbing her forehead. "It's complicated."
"It's really not. You're just scared," she retorted.
"And what do you know about love, little one?"
"Not enough. I'm still waiting to experience it, but when I do, I surely will not make the same silly mistakes you are currently making, older one." Cecilia paused and sighed. "I know I tease you a lot, but... Emma, he makes you happy. Or he made you happy. Those days, when you would sneak off to have lessons with him, there was always this glint in your eye every time you came back. It was always different, but it was always there. You used to smile more when he was around, even when the two of you would bicker. Especially then."
"Don't do this to me, Cecilia," Emma urged. "Really...I cannot think about this like that. You just have to trust that this is for the greater good. Soon, London season will be over, and he willreturn to Northen England. Our paths that intertwine would end there."
Cecilia opened her mouth to say something more, but then she gasped softly and looked up, eyes wide.
Emma blinked, confused. "What is it–?"
She turned, following Cecilia's eyes.
Solomon stood behind her, hands clasped behind his back, an unreadable expression on his face. He towered over them. The candle light from the chandelier cast a shadow on top of him that made his eyes look even darker.
He didn't look at her.
"Miss Cecilia," he said smoothly, bowing his head in greeting. "Forgive the interruption, but may I steal your sister for a quick moment?"
Emma barely had time to catch her breath. He did not wait for Cecilia's answer. In one fluid motion, he turned toward Emma and without waiting for her to gather her thoughts... or her nerves, Solomon gently but firmly took her by the wrist and led her away from the drawing room, through a side corridor.
He did not speak. Not until he reached the door at the end of the hallway and pushed it open. There, he walked her into whatlooked like his study, placed her in the middle of the room. Then, he walked back to the door, shut it, and leaned on it.
Emma took a shaky step back, her hand still tingling where he had held it. She turned to face him, her breath shallow and uneven as her gaze swept the study. Anywhere but his eyes.
"This is highly inappropriate," she spoke, trying her best to mask the quake in her voice. "You should know that, Your Grace. After all the lessons we had together, one would think you'd care a little more about propriety."
Solomon didn't move. His eyes remained fixed on her.
"There are guests waiting," she went on, folding her arms as if to shield herself from the charged air between them. "People will notice we are gone. This isn't some idle country gathering where no one keeps count, this is a formal dinner in your own house."
