Page 58 of A Duke Reformed
"I've decided to marry," she said, her words hanging until she spoke again. "Lord Pembleton. He is the gentleman from the ball that day, and the same one from the Wentworth hallway."
She braced herself for his reaction, watching as his eyes darkened. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she watched Solomon get up from where he was and move closer, the tension between them like a rope pulling tighter with each passing second.
"He ticks all the boxes," she continued. "Everything I need... stability, respect, kindness. He'll make a good match. We're engaged."
The lie was a necessary evil. A way out. It was the only way to protect both of them. She hadn't planned it, not consciously. The words had come to her in the moment, and they had felt right. Clever, even. A lifeline.
She couldn't keep dragging them both through the pain. She had to let him go. By claiming that she was engaged to Edmund Kirk, she had given herself an escape, a way out without further torment. It was a small, but important lie that would preserve the fragile parts of her that were still intact.
She didn't want to be cruel. She had never wanted to be cruel to Solomon. But he had made his position clear. He didn't want to marry. He didn't want a family. His reasons, his past... all made sense now. He had his boundaries, and he wasn't going to cross them. She couldn't keep hope alive for something that was never going to happen.
To ask him to change, to ask him to love her... wasn't fair. It would only leave them both heartbroken. She was never one who clung to a dream that wasn't real. It was time to wake up.
"Do you love him?" Solomon asked, standing by the fireplace now. He had his back turned to her, but she could hear him.
"I don't know," was all she could say. "But I think I'm on the right path and it might happen. I might... love him. I took your advice. It would be pretty lonely to live the rest of my life with someone that I do not love. So, I have to try at least."
Solomon scoffed. "You took my advice?" he asked, turning around. "Is that what you said, Emma?"
"Yes," she answered.
"When did this... engagement happen?" he asked.
"Today," she replied. "He called earlier. We spent the entire morning together before he decided to take Papa to the Club. I sensed it was going to happen, and I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I didn't get the chance."
Solomon let out an awkward laugh as he massaged his nape. "All right. I hear you. Congratulations."
"Thank you," she said and rose to her feet, sensing that she was about to start crying. "At least now, our arrangement is officially over. You no longer need my guidance. You are a true gentleman now."
It was easy to tell that Solomon had something else to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. He stoodrestlessly, as if he didn't know what to do with his hands. Emma could see that he was restraining himself.
Quickly, she turned away from him then, her steps brisk as she headed toward the door. Solomon's gaze followed her, but his body remained frozen. But the moment he turned his eyes away from her, he spoke.
"One more thing," he said, halting her in her tracks. "There's another reason I came here, Miss Lockhart."
She paused just before the door, and as she turned back, she saw him pull a small, silver pouch from his jacket and place it on the table. "It's for the last lesson. Your payment. You did not stay to collect."
"No," she said softly, but firmly. "I cannot accept it, Your Grace. I have no use for the payment any longer. But thank you for giving me this opportunity. Goodbye, Your Grace."
With that she left the room, making her way up the stairs. As she reached her bed, she collapsed onto it, burying her face in the soft linens, her tears flowing freely. She no longer cared about the dowry her family had once deemed so essential, nor the notion of securing a husband who would fulfill the expectations placed upon her. All of that seemed so insignificant now, overshadowed by the ache in her heart, and the emptiness that came with saying goodbye to Solomon.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Weeks Later...
"I have only heard about the Duke of Walford in passing. The information I have is that he is a recluse, and he is ruthless in his dealings. Magnus Walford doesn't leave his estate, but his influence stretches further than most can imagine. And now, he's looking to expand, looking to make a business venture. That's why this meeting is so important, Solomon. The man doesn't trust many. But he respects power."
The meeting with Magnus couldn't have come at a better time. After the turmoil of the past few weeks in London, the chance to leave the city and focus on something business-related felt like a welcome escape. Solomon needed to clear his mind, and the prospect of securing a lucrative deal with someone as powerful as Magnus offered a sense of direction. Without hesitation, he'd taken the opportunity to leave London behind, renting an estate close to Magnus' manor.
The quiet isolation of the countryside allowed him to retreat from the noise of the city, preparing for the meeting that was set to take place in a few days.
"Why did you get married, Andrew?" Solomon asked him changing the subject.
Andrew paused, clearly taken aback by the question. He shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Solomon, as though trying to gauge the seriousness of the inquiry.
"That's a rather personal question, Solomon," Andrew said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It is quite a long and eventful story. A fairytale if you would like."
"Summarize it," Solomon asked, interlocking his fingers on the table. "Why did you get married?"
