Page 53 of A Duke Reformed
"Tell me all about it, Ducky," Lavinia teased her.
Emma let out a loud laugh. "Stop. It's odd when you say it. Let us leave that term for the duke, shall we?" she said. "But I will tell you all about it..."
They both dissolved into giggles, letting the night fall quietly around them. Although Emma still carried the uneasy achebeneath her smile, for the first time in days, she felt a little lighter.
He was watching her, she could see him.
Emma had not wanted to come to the Opera.
She had thought of a dozen excuses. A headache. A prior engagement. A sudden urge to organize her wardrobe by color. But Cecilia had looked far too excited about the opera. She loved operas. Her cheeks tinged with a familiar glow Emma hadn't seen in weeks. It was the first time Cecilia had been excited to go somewhere with eagerness. Emma couldn't say no.
So there she was, tucked into the corner of Lady Wentworth's music room, watching Cecilia chat animatedly with a lady Emma had only seen at different balls before. The young woman, slender and wide-eyed, had only arrived in Town for her first Season, and by some miracle, she and Cecilia had struck up a conversation.
Thankfully, Lord Pearlton was nowhere in sight.
But Solomon was. He stood at the other end of the room. Each time she chanced a glance in his direction, she found his gaze already there, fixed on her. It was maddening. And confusing.
She couldn't breathe in there.
Rising softly from her seat, Emma slipped through the side of the music room and exited into the corridor. The hallway was blessedly quiet, lined with soft carpets. She let her shoulders drop, taking a steadying breath.
But she had only taken two steps toward the far end when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her. She turned swiftly, scared that she had wandered too far away from the party, but her breath caught in her throat.
"Your Grace," she managed to whisper.
Solomon took another step forward, and then another, until the space between them was gone. Emma found her back brushing the edge of a small alcove in the hallway with nowhere to go. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into hers, and she felt every bit of her composure slipping.
It would be no use reminding him how inappropriate this was, that they were alone in a hallway, unchaperoned, and far too close for propriety. He knew. At this point, she understood that Solomon simply wasn't the sort of man who cared for rules that didn't suit him.
And yet, here she stood, still rooted to the spot.
"What did I say, Emma?" he asked, quietly. "What did I say that got you so upset? That I didn't want to have children? That's what upset you so much?"
Emma bit her lower lip, feeling her cheeks flush crimson. "Your Grace, I am terribly sorry for how I spoke," she said. "It wasn't my place and it won't happen again."
"I'm not asking you to apologize," he said to her. "I just want to know why you got upset."
"Your Grace, I am truly sorry," she repeated.
"I said I wouldn't marry. That I didn't want children," he continued, eyes narrowing slightly. "And you looked at me like I had struck you."
"You have every right to live your life as you please," she blurted. "But if you must know, yes, I was upset. Not because of your decision, but because the idea of letting your bloodline end with you is... selfish."
"Selfish?" he asked. "You don't even know why I made that decision."
"If I asked, would you tell me?"
Solomon's shoulders dropped slightly as he peered into her eyes.
"You carry a legacy. A title that has lasted centuries. Men have died to protect that name... your name. And you–" her voice cracked slightly, "You'd throw it all away because you've decided there's no use continuing the line?"
Emma paused, but she knew that she couldn't stop yet. "You are a man saddled with responsibility, Your Grace," she continued. "A man of duty. You left your life in Northern England to make sure that the late Duke's business and legacy did not go to ruin. You did that already. Why stop? You cannot run from that just because it scares you."
Emma could see it in his eyes...the way they dulled, how his jaw clenched and loosened. He didn't say anything. Again. He didn't argue. He just... stared at her.
And then he stepped back, about to turn and walk away. Instinctively, Emma reached for him, her hand catching his just before he could retreat completely.
"Don't go," she said, her voice trembling. Her fingers tightened slightly around his. "You can talk to me, Solomon. Whatever it is, just say it."
