Page 30 of A Duke Reformed
"I don't want to speak about it," Emma said to her. "Now go get dressed. We are going to the modiste. You need new dresses for the coming balls."
Cecilia was reluctant to go, but when she saw that Emma was standing her ground, she stomped her foot and left the room. Emma smiled to herself. She knew all Cecilia wanted to do was understand, but Emma couldn't think of the best way to explain to her that she was so afraid of failing in love like their father did.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The moment Emma stepped into the drawing room and set her eyes on Solomon, she let out an audible gasp.
"Who did that to you?" Her voice came out softer than she intended.
She had found Solomon standing by the window, his profile half-turned from her, but the bruise on his left cheek was still visible. A dark, mottled shadow bloomed across his cheekbone. Without thinking, Emma crossed the room, trying to get a better look at it.
Her fingertips touched the edge of the bruise, just below his eye, where the skin was thinnest. A sharp inhale escaped him, though whether from pain or surprise, she couldn't tell. She was too engrossed in assessing the wound on his face. The skin was warm beneath her touch, the bruise an ugly contrast against his usually unmarred features. It took her a long moment to realize that she shouldn't be this close to him, and shecertainlyshouldn't be touching him. But the sight of it worried her more than she wanted to admit.
Before she could withdraw, his hand closed around her wrist, not roughly, but with a firmness that sent a shiver up her arm. She met his gaze, noting in an instant that she had done something he did not approve of.
"I see it now, how badly I corrupt you," he said, still holding on to her arm, and her gaze.
Emma's breath caught in her throat. His voice was low, almost resigned, as if the words were dragged from him against his will. Her pulse thundered where his fingers encircled her wrist and she couldn't bring herself to pull away even though it felt like her skin was burning beneath his touch.
Corrupting me?
It took her a moment to register his words. "What do you mean, Your Grace?"
Solomon's grip loosened around her wrist a bit, but he didn't let go. His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist once, caressing her skin before he released her entirely.
"Do you realize..." he began, his voice a low, deliberate rasp, "...what you've just done?"
Emma looked down at her fingers. "I apologize, Your Grace. My intention was not to offend you. I simply...how did you get hurt? Did someone hit you?"
"You forget yourself, Miss Lockhart," he murmured, stepping back just enough to restore the proper distance between them. "I think we both forgot ourselves. This isn't... appropriate."
Emma's eyebrows furrowed and she took a step forward. "I apologize, Your Grace. It wouldn't happen again. I wasn't thinking. Usually, the only people I see get hurt are my siblings and I guess I haven't drawn the line between us yet, but–"
"It's not just that, Miss Lockhart," Solomon said to her. "It's this. All of it. You are supposed to be chaperoned from what I hear, yet you come to my estate all alone."
"I told you," she said, feeling a pang in her chest. "I don't need a chaperone. I'm a spinster."
"You are not," he said to her, shaking his head. "First, you agree to these clandestine lessons. Then you arrive unchaperoned, day after day. What if rumors fly? What do we do then?"
Emma studied him, the fine lines between her brows deepening. Solomon had never struck her as a man who wasted a single thought on society's opinions. He was the sort who strode into ballrooms with mud still clinging to his boots... who met raised eyebrows with colder silence.
So why now? Why this sudden performance of propriety?
"What troubles you, Your Grace?" she asked him, putting both hands behind her back. "Because clearly, you are not being entirely honest with me."
"I don't owe you honesty."
Emma tilted her head sharply. "Is that what you think?"
Solomon visibly swallowed, turning his gaze away. "You grew up here... all your life. Does it not worry you that people will talk? Make up rumors if they were to ever find out you visit the estate ever so often?"
"No," she answered plainly.
"Why?" he asked and crossed his arms.
"Because this is more important," she said to him and bit her lower lip. She wanted to lie. Sheshouldlie. But there was this look in his eyes that seemed to strip her defenses bare, leaving no room for half-truths. "Because you need these lessons, and I need the payment. Because the money you pay after each session goes to a very good cause and I put that cause above all else. It's all about priorities. My family is the most important thing to me."
Solomon's arms remained crossed, his gaze unrelenting."A cause?" he mumbled.
