Page 40 of A Duke Reformed
It was as though relief washed over her in the moment.
Solomon was not the sort of man one could easily overlook in a crowded ballroom. Even amongst the glamor of theton, he commanded attention without trying. But it wasn't merely his presence that stole her breath, it was the fact that he was here. That he had sought her out.
She had not expected to see him so soon. Not after the way he had left her standing alone in the park. She had told herself she did not care, that it was better this way, that a clean break would prevent unnecessary complications. But the moment her eyes met his, she realized how deeply that had been a lie.
Her heart kicked against her ribs, though she masked her unease with a slow, measured inhale.
She tilted her chin up slightly. "Your Grace."
There was a brief pause, his gaze scanning her face as though searching for something. Then he spoke again. "Can I have the pleasure of your next dance?"
Emma's breath hitched and she glanced at her dance card. "I would love to, Your Grace."
Without another word, he reached for her dance card, plucking it from her wrist with easy confidence. Before she could object, he had already retrieved a pencil from his coat and scrawled his name.
As they stepped onto the dance floor, a silence settled between them. Emma really wanted to bring it up... to talk about how they left things at the park. But she feared that if she did that, they were going to argue again, and that was the last thing she wanted. She was tired of always fighting with him.
"The dress suits you," Solomon said, his voice low. "You look beautiful in it."
Emma gasped softly, suddenly recalling that she had never thanked him for it. "Oh, my apologies, Your Grace. I never formally thanked you for the dress. It is the most beautiful one I now own. It was incredibly thoughtful of you. And generous. I truly appreciate it."
"When I saw it, I thought of you," he admitted just as the musicians lifted their bows for the first note.
As the dance began, Solomon's hand settled at her waist. Firm, warm, unmistakably present. Emma tensed instinctively, her breath catching in her throat. It was a proper hold, nothing inappropriate, yet she was acutely aware of it. His touch wassteady, self-assured, as though he had done this a thousand times before.
She hesitated before placing her hand on his shoulder. Her fingers brushing against the fine fabric of his coat before she finally placed her hand on his shoulder. Beneath it, he was solid... almost as if he was carved out of stone.
Emma forced herself to breathe as he took her other hand, willing herself to focus on the steps of the dance, but it was impossible to ignore the way his closeness unsettled her. She dared a glance at him, expecting to find some sign that he felt it too. But his expression was unreadable, composed.
"Are you still upset with me?" she asked him before taking a moment to rethink it.
His gaze flickered to hers, searching. "I was never upset about the lessons."
Emma frowned. "You walked away."
"I did," he admitted. "But not because I was angry. I was upset because you did not think to give me an honest reason. But I shouldn't have questioned your decisions the way I did. I had no right."
"You were right to ask questions," she said to him. "I'm sorry I got so defensive. I just...I'm not used to people being concerned about my issues. It was novel."
Solomon smiled faintly. "I understand," he said to her.
Emma smiled to herself and looked down at her gown. "You do know how to pick dresses."
Solomon let out a soft chuckle. "Really? You like it that much?"
"I do." She smiled. She hesitated, her gaze fixed on the fabric of her gown as they moved together in perfect time with the music. The moment felt too fragile, too delicate, that something inside her urged her to speak.
"My father is selling my things," she admitted with a feigned smile. "My valuables, my jewelry. Anything to get us money. I have been losing things for a while now, and it felt nice to finally have something given to me. So, thank you."
Solomon's steps faltered for the briefest moment, so slight that another dance partner might not have noticed. But Emma did. His hold on her waist tightened just a little, his brows drawing together in a crease of concern.
"He is selling your jewelry?" he asked her.
"It's not like I have use for them anyway," she said. "It's the least of my problems."
Solomon didn't respond right away. Emma could feel his gaze on her, studying her, but he said nothing. Perhaps he sensed that she did not want to talk about it further. Perhaps, for once, hehad decided to let it be. The silence stretched between them, not quite uncomfortable, but not easy either. Emma hated that. She hated the lingering awkwardness.
"The reason I put a pause on our lessons is because someone is making my sister uncomfortable," she finally revealed.
