Page 28 of A Duke Reformed
"It's not nothing. You're usually impossible to hit." Andrew tossed the wrappings aside. He assessed the side of Solomon's face and winced. "And now I've marked your face."
"Andrew, it's nothing to worry about. I've endured pains far greater than this one," Solomon assured him. "I barely feel it."
"You don't need to feel it. I can see it and it looks horrid," Andrew said. "My goodness, how do we explain this?"
Solomon shook his head. "Nobody cares."
"Thetonwill care," Andrew answered.
Solomon groaned, unwrapping the linen from his hands too. "Christ, not this again."
"Appearances matter, Solomon. The last thing you want is them thinking you got into a fight and making up scenarios in their heads."
Solomon didn't bother responding. He'd had enough of the rules, the expectations, the way every damn thing in London came with invisible strings.So, he got out of the ring and began to collect his belongings.
"Where are you going?" Andrew asked him, leaning on the ropes.
"Home. To work," he answered. "Maybe we spar another time. For whatever reason, I'm in no mood for social activities today."
"When are you ever in the mood for social activities?" Andrew teased him.
"I'll let you know when I figure it out," Solomon said and smiled faintly at him before leaving the room.
Solomon pressed his fingers to his bruised cheek, feeling the mild, but steady pain. He was starting to wonder if the stress was all worth it. The endless meetings, the need to tread cautiously, the careful words swallowed before they could offend some delicate lordling's sensibilities... all to uphold a title he had never prepared for.
His father's reputation had been solid as stone, built over decades. His was different. He had built his reputation and name far from the titled world of London. But one wrong move and the wholetonwould spread word that he was out to ruin his father's reputation.
One he had been forced to carry in the first place.
"Just smile, Cecilia. Hopefully, he leaves soon."
One thing Emma had come to realize was that Lord Pearlton was an unrelenting old man. Lord Pearlton was at least fifty, his breath always thick with the sour tang of port, and his touch lingering just a moment too long whenever he took any lady's hand. And now, for the third Thursday in a row, he had 'coincidentally' appeared during their visiting hours.
"Emma, do not leave me alone with this man," Cecilia whispered to Emma, watching their father welcome Lord Pearlton into their home. "I don't like the subjects he talks about and he always forces me to contribute."
"Of course I won't leave you alone with him," Emma said. "I'll chaperone."
"We have to speak to Papa again," Cecilia said. "He has to do something about it."
Emma sighed and shook her head. "I'm afraid there's nothing to do. I'm sorry to say this, but... technically he has not done anything wrong and the more interest he shows in you, the better your chances of finding a match."
Cecilia turned her head to face Emma. "So you agree with Papa?" she rasped.
"I don't agree," she answered. "But there is some truth in his words. I understand where you're coming from Cecilia and I hear you. Believe me, I have held a conversation with Lord Pearlton and I know how uncomfortable his words, and actions can be. But in the eye of society, he has not done anything inappropriate. Just... smile and be on your best behavior. Hopefully, you find a better match soon."
"Come on, Emma. We both know that isn't happening soon."
"Don't say that," Emma cautioned her. "You just need to put more effort into acting like the other ladies of theton. Learn how they charm the gentlemen. We can have lessons."
Cecilia gave her a knowing look. "Like the lessons you are having with the duke? I don't need lesson's Emma."
"You need friends too," Emma continued. "When Lord Pearlton leaves, you and I will have a talk, Cecilia. I have noticed that you have no friends. At least during my time, I was a wallflower but I still had friends. Two good friends."
"He's coming, he's coming!" Cecilia whispered harshly.
Emma turned her attention forward, noting that her father was leaving the room, and Lord Pearlton was approaching them. Shecurtsied and stepped to the side, making her way to the corner of the room to sit and observe.
"Miss Cecilia," Lord Pearlton greeted, taking Cecilia's hand.
