Page 23 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

E mma stood near the edge of the room, smoothing her hands over the emerald silk of her gown.

The fabric was softer than she had imagined and it felt good to run her hand over it all the time.

She had not wanted to come to the ball. In fact, she was in no mood for any social gatherings.

But she didn't know when and where Lord Pearlton would make an appearance and make Cecilia uncomfortable again, so she had to come.

Emma massaged her chest with her fingers, still feeling the uneased that had refused to lift for the past three days.

She had thought about it over and over again, how Solomon had walked away that day in the park.

How the air between them had shifted, and now it felt heavy with something unspoken between them.

She had not liked it, she still did not like it. The distance. The look in his eyes.

And yet, a part of her was still angry.

Why had it mattered so much to him? Why had he pressed her so hard when she had made her decision clear? What did it matter to him if she paused their lessons for a little while?

"Miss Lockhart."

The moment she turned and saw him, Emma's breath faltered.

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 the ton , 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 was steady, 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, he had 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.

Solomon's grip on her waist tightened slightly. "Who?"

Emma inhaled deeply, her pulse quickening as she met his gaze.

"Lord Pearlton. But it's nothing that I cannot handle.

" Emma glanced around, suddenly aware that they were in the middle of a ballroom.

"He hasn't done anything, precisely. But Cecilia is getting troubled by his constant presence, and the things he always wants to talk about.

She cannot socialize because he is always there, lurking.

So, I decided to pay more attention to her for a few weeks, so that when Lord Pearlton makes her uncomfortable again, I'll be there to tell him off. "

"And your father?" Solomon questioned. His grip on her waist stiffened even further, and Emma had to resist the urge to shiver.

"He sees Lord Pearlton as a respectable match. An earl, rich and well-connected. He thinks Cecilia should be flattered by the attention."

Solomon's brow furrowed. "Who is Lord Pearlton?"

Emma hesitated, her gaze flickering over the crowd as they moved in slow, practiced steps. "A man I have no desire to ever properly introduce you to."

"Point him out," Solomon said, scanning the room.

Emma let out a quiet breath and shook her head. "Thankfully, he is not here this evening, so Cecilia can relax a bit."

Solomon exhaled slowly. "All right. But that does not mean he won't still be a problem tomorrow."

Emma sighed. "I know. But not to worry, I have it under control, Your Grace. I just wanted you to understand why it's important I concentrate on Cecilia now."

"It's priority," he said to her. "Your family comes first. It's the reason you were even doing the lessons in the first place. Still... I know you claim to have it under control, but if you need my help..."

"I know," she whispered.

Solomon lowered his head and met her eyes, searching them. "It's admirable... what you're doing. Putting your family first like this."

Emma had to force herself to focus on the dance, to avoid letting her mind wander too far. But the compliment hit her in a way she hadn't anticipated. It made her feel seen, understood. It felt like he had put a blanket over her heart, warming something inside her that she hadn't realized was cold.

"Thank you," she said, clearing her throat as the dance continued.

She was trying to distract herself, trying to focus on something other than the swirling feelings that had suddenly erupted inside her.

"Before I forget," she added, casting a quick glance at him.

"I know we don't know when it will be, but for our next lesson, I think it's high time we focus on the art of making long-term friendships. "

Solomon chuckled softly, a low, warm sound. "Friendships? Now that sounds like something I could use a lesson or two in. I'll admit."

"Did you have friends in the town where you grew up?" she asked him.

Solomon paused for a moment, as if considering the question. His gaze briefly shifted to the side and his mind seemed to wander, as if trying to find the right words. "Not many," he admitted. "It's not one of my strongest points."

Emma raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "That must have been lonely, especially growing up."

He gave a small smile. "Not necessarily. I was never a fan of large gatherings. Overtime, I learnt not to rely on others too much, especially when they only see you for what you can provide. I suppose that's why I focused so much on my work. It was something I could control."

"Well, I suppose now's the perfect time for you to learn how to make those friendships."

Solomon shrugged. "And I suppose it simply cannot be that hard. I was able to make a friend out of you, and you can be quite uptight, but you make a good friend."