Page 81 of A Duke Reformed
Outside, the air was cool and fresh, the soft fragrance of roses and damp earth curling around them. Solomon felt... new. As though he'd been remade.
"I thought your father might toss me out," he said at last, taking Emma's hand into his as they strolled down the garden.
"That wasn't even a possibility, Your Grace," Emma beamed. "He probably adores you more than I do."
"Emma, I have faced lords in Parliament, adversaries across negotiating tables, and courts full of whispering nobles, but never had my heartbeat stuttered the way it did in there."
Emma giggled. "Is that so? The mighty Duke of Montclaire brought to his knees by my father's furrowed brow?"
He chuckled. "I wouldn't go that far but...close," he answered. "I don't think I'd have recovered if you had said no to me."
"I already said yes the other day at the dinner," Emma reminded him. "I was certain of it, Solomon. Nothing could have changed my mind."
They walked in comfortable silence for a few more paces, listening to the sound around them. Solomon stole a glance at her, marveling at how natural it felt to walk beside her. As if they had done this a hundred times before. As if his soul had somehow known hers long before they'd ever spoken.
"I suppose..." he began to speak. "...This is the part where I start talking to you like a betrothed man ought to."
Emma tilted her head, amused. "And how's that?"
He grinned. "With a touch more honesty, I think."
She slowed down her pace, paying more attention to him.
"Emma..." he paused, tugging her a little closer as they rounded the hedges. "There is something I should probably talk about with you. Marrying me won't be all London balls. As a duke, I have obligations. My work often pulls me north, to my business ventures scattered across England... to Montclaire and the people that rely on me as their duke. We'll be traveling often. Sometimes unexpectedly. Sometimes for long stretches."
He looked down at her, expecting hesitation. But she didn't falter. She didn't blink. Instead, she stopped walking and turned to face him fully, her hand still in his. "As long as we're together," she said softly. "You could take me to the edge of the earth and I would not mind."
Solomon felt his heart soften. "You truly mean that?" he asked.
"Every word," she answered. "I'll go where you go." She took a step forward. "I've lived in the same place all my life. I'm tired of London. I think I'd like to see more of the world with you."
He let out a long exhale, shaking his head in amusement. "You're remarkable, Ducky."
She gave him a cheeky look and shrugged her shoulders. "I know."
Solomon barked a laugh, then pulled her closer. "Good."
She giggled. "Someone has to make sure you don't go around terrifying people with your brooding silences and intense eyebrows. You still have a lot to learn about London etiquettes, Your Grace. I'm afraid I'd spend the rest of our lives together, teaching you."
"My eyebrows are perfectly respectable," he retorted, pretending to be touched by her remark.
"They are brooding," she countered.
"They are noble."
"They are scandalously expressive."
He laughed again then looked at her, truly looked at her, standing there with that smile that had taken root in his soul. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and closed his eyes for a second.
"I look forward to everything," he murmured. "Every muddy road, every northern wind, every morning and every night that began and ended with you. Everything."
Emma tilted her face up towards him. She leaned in just a little, her breath mingling with his as she slowly closed her eyes. But just as her lips brushed his, Solomon pulled back ever so slightly, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, not here," he whispered. "I have a terrible feeling your siblings are watching us. We wouldn't want to set a bad example now, do we?"
Emma blinked, then let out a breathy laugh, pouting as she stepped back. "You're right," she whispered back. "Dorothy and Phillip are usually everywhere. They pop out of corners like woodland creatures."
Solomon chuckled, utterly delighted by her. "Yes, I've noticed."
