Page 19 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

Solomon crossed his arms. "Tell me, do you assign grades as well? Shall I anticipate a report at the end of the Season detailing my successes and..." he pressed a dramatic hand over his chest "... my woeful failures?"

Emma shot him a pointed look, though the corner of her mouth twitched. She decided that it was best to ignore him, else his teasing would not stop. "For today's lesson, we shall be discussing courtship."

Solomon arched a brow. "Courtship?"

"Yes," she answered, flipping open her notebook to go through all she had written.

"It has come to my attention that, you once asked lady Sartfeld, a married woman to promenade with you.

I believe you know by now why that is inappropriate, but today, I will be teaching you all about the art of flirting and courtship in London. "

Solomon shook his head. "No, thank you."

Emma ignored his theatrics and continued.

"Your Grace, courtship is not merely about charming a lady with pleasant conversations or gallant gestures.

There's more to it and I need to teach you everything you need to know, so that when you decide to settle down, it would be on your own accord, not because a lady trapped you into it. "

Solomon rose to his feet in one fluid motion and the teasing glint in his eyes dimming just slightly. He wandered toward the fireplace, before turning back to her, leaning against the mantel.

"This is not a lesson I have any interest in," he said easily. "I have no intention of marrying."

Emma's eyes widened before her mouth parted slightly. It took her a moment, but she managed to snap it shut and swallow before speaking. "That is absurd, Your Grace. Every gentleman must marry at some point."

"Must we?" he questioned, as though the very notion was a tiresome inconvenience to him. "I see no great appeal in shackling myself to one person for the rest of my days. No offense to your lesson, of course."

Emma rose to her feet. She shut her notebook with a quiet snap and exhaled sharply through her nose. "Why don't you want to get married, Your Grace?" she asked quietly.

Solomon smiled and blinked slowly. "I just don't want to."

"That's impossible. There must be a reason," she insisted.

"There is none. I just don't want to get married," he said to her. "I don't want an heir."

"That's the reason," she said, catching it before it became something fleeting. She walked slowly, approaching him. "You don't want an heir. That's the reason."

Solomon crossed his arms. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Miss Lockhart."

Emma's breath caught, though she refused to let it show.

Miss Lockhart. Not ducky. Not even Emma.

Miss Lockhart.

For the past several weeks, Solomon had taken insufferable delight in calling her by that ridiculous pet name, Ducky. But she had noted that he had not called her that since she arrived. Or even called her by her name. It felt too formal...too distant. She should have been pleased. And yet–

Why does it bother me?

"What are you thinking about? You're thinking of something." Solomon interrupted her thoughts.

Emma straightened her back, schooling her features into careful indifference. If he wished to be distant, then so be it. It was not as if she cared. Certainly not.

"If it's not because of the heir, then why?" she asked him again, noticing that she had walked all the way over to him, and was now leaning on the mantel too.

Solomon exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "I would rather not talk about it," he said to her. "I would much prefer a different subject."

Emma wanted to pressed, but she figured she had no right to do so... so instead, dropped her shoulders, giving in. "All right then, Your Grace. We can have a different lesson. Do you have something in mind that you want us to discuss, or you'd rather I advise?"

"Courtship is of no interest to me," he said. "What I truly need is a lesson on how to avoid it altogether. The mamas are relentless. Every time I so much as glance in a lady's direction, I can feel their watchful eyes plotting my future. I need to avoid that."

Emma folded her arms, unimpressed. "Yes... how dreadful for you, Your Grace, to be pursued, admired, and sought after."

Solomon caught her sarcastic tone and squinted his eyes at her. "My point still remains that I have no desire to be caught. Which is why I require your expertise."

Emma gave him a long, withering stare. "My expertise?"

"You must admit, you are uniquely qualified for the task. You're a spinster, untouched by the madness of courtship. Who better to instruct me in the fine art of evasion?"

Emma went utterly still. A slow, burning heat crawled up her neck, not from embarrassment, but from sheer, unfiltered vexation.

The man was impossible.

How dare he? How utterly absurd for him.

A man who could have his pick of any debutante, who moved through ballrooms with ease, who was pursued, admired, fawned over, to stand before her and suggest that they were alike in this.

As though she, too, had spent years avoiding marriage.

As though she had chosen to be left to the side while others danced and courted and wed.

Did he truly believe she possessed some grand strategy for evading suitors? That she had navigated society with effortless skill, dodging proposals and suitors simply because she wanted to?

She wanted to laugh. The notion was so absurd, so insulting, that she nearly did laugh. But the sound caught in her throat, trapped beneath the sharp sting of something far more unwelcome.

He would never understand.

They could not be more different.

She was vexed. Utterly, and without any doubt, vexed.

And for some unfathomable reason, Solomon took an inordinate amount of pleasure in that fact.

It wasn't rational. It wasn't even particularly gentlemanly. But there was something exceedingly satisfying about watching Emma's carefully composed expression begin to crack. She was always so rigid, so composed.

Perhaps he had grown too comfortable with her.

It was an odd thought. One he hadn't truly considered until that very moment.

He was not a man who grew comfortable with people.

He was not charming, nor was he easy going, or pleasant to people.

And yet, here he stood, thoroughly enjoying the way Emma's fingers curled at her sides.

..the way her breath came slightly uneven, the way she was struggling, not just for words, but to contain them.

That, perhaps, was what fascinated him most.

"Are you upset with me?" he asked quietly. "Have I said something to vex you?"

They stood close now...too close. Close enough that he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, that he could hear her breathing. A maddening thought crossed his mind, unbidden and entirely unwelcome.

He could reach for her hand. A simple touch, nothing more than a brief, reassuring squeeze. An apology...perhaps. But the thought lingered longer than it should have, unsettling him in ways he did not care to examine.

"No," she finally say and stepped back. "I just...realized something, is all."

Solomon was tempted to ask what it was, but he stopped himself. "Did you ever court anyone?" he asked her and crossed his arms, somehow wishing that she took a step forward again so she was back to where she was previously standing.

Emma exhaled sharply. "No."

The answer was swift, almost clipped, but before he could remark on it, she lifted her chin and added. "Not for lack of desire, mind you. My circumstances simply did not allow it."

Solomon studied her. "Your circumstances?"

Emma squared her shoulders. "Once I restore my dowry and ensure my sisters' future, I fully intend to seek a husband."

His eyebrows twitched. "Have you not been doing so until now?"

Emma exhaled slowly, as if steadying herself before she spoke.

"I never had the luxury of courtship," she admitted in a quiet voice.

"My debut year, I was... shy. I didn't have the courage to step into the light, so I was always in the background.

Standing by the wall, hoping that the time would fly by so I could go home and read my favorite books. "

A faint smile crossed her lips. "Then the second year came, and I did the exact same thing.

I was afraid, and soon, I started to believe that perhaps it was simply not meant for me.

That I was not the sort of woman men sought after.

My mother also passed away and I naturally had to take care of my siblings. "

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.

"By the third year, my father was already overwhelmed with debts, and I had no time to dwell on my own hesitations.

My sisters needed me. The household needed me.

Even my father..." She let out a small, bitter laugh.

"Especially my father needed me. I became so consumed with keeping everything from falling apart that the idea of finding a husband became. ..irrelevant."

Emma drew in a breath, seemingly reluctant to meet his gaze.

"So, while other girls fretted over dance cards and declarations of love, I was too busy ensuring my sisters were cared for, that the household did not fall into complete disarray.

But now, I have a plan to put everything back in place.

Now, I simply want to find a husband who is quiet and polite.

A true gentleman who will make me feel at ease for the rest of my life.

No grand passion, no whirlwind courtship or romance. Just peace."

Solomon studied her, an odd tightness forming in his chest. He understood her reasoning. Truly, he did. And yet, something about it did not sit right with him.

"You're planning to settle?" he asked her. "After everything you claim to have endured, you just want a quiet and polite man?"