Page 25 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

" T here was no need for you to erase his name from my card," Emma said to Solomon and crossed her arms. "And do not blame the lessons because I certainly talked to you about ballroom etiquette."

Solomon tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Really? You mentioned something about erasing names?" He sucked in his teeth and straightened his back. "I must have missed that part."

Emma scoffed. "Oh, don't be clever with me, Your Grace. What you did was inappropriate. And also rude."

Solomon watched her carefully, stifling a smile.

Her composure was cracking, he could see it.

.. and he liked it. He liked that it was him who could make her flustered.

How he could stir something in her that he had not seen any other man manage to do.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes fixed on her mouth.

He knew what came next. Any moment now her teeth would sink into her lower lip.

A small, unconscious gesture she made whenever she was trying not to speak too quickly or too harshly.

"Inappropriate?" he echoed. "I'd say it was efficient. That man would have bored you senseless."

"That is not your concern," she said sharply, the color rising to her cheeks. "I decide who dances with me, not you. Also, Lord Pembleton is a very nice man."

Lord Pembleton...

Solomon took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough so only she could hear. "And yet you did not stop me from erasing his name, Ducky."

Emma blinked, caught off guard. "You didn't exactly ask and I was..." she paused and bit her lower lip. "I don't think I want to discuss this any further."

Solomon caught the motion instantly and he had to fight his urge to grin.

It was subtle, but on her, it was loud as a scream.

What struck him most, however, was the fact that he had come to expect it.

Anticipate it, even. As though he had learned her too well.

When had that happened? How much time had they truly been spending together for him to read her like this?

"What is it?"

Emma's voice jerked him back to reality. He paused, allowing his attention to snap back to her. "What do you mean?"

"You looked like you were thinking," she answered. "Do you suddenly regret your actions?"

"Never," he answered. "I am not an impulsive man, Miss Lockhart. Impulsive men don't make good businessmen."

Emma raised both eyebrows. "So, you claim that what you just did was not impulsive?"

He hesitated, but only for a second. Not because he didn't know what to say, but because she'd caught him off guard.

Again. A part of him was certain that she already knew the answer to her question.

He could not brush off the fact that perhaps.

.. Emma knew how to read him just as much as he had learned to read her. That was the unsettling thing.

The act itself, erasing the man's name from her card had been instinctive. The kind of decision that usually had no place in his world of careful calculations and strategical investments. It wasn't planned. It wasn't logical. And yet, he didn't regret it. Not in the slightest.

"I acted with intent," he said and cleared his throat. "It may not have been the sort of intent you would have preferred, but it was intent all the same."

Emma let out a short laugh. "Intent? What intent?"

Solomon's gaze, unbidden, dropped to her lips.

Just for a moment. He had been wondering about them for days now.

Her lips. What they might feel like beneath his.

He didn't know when the thought had first planted itself in his mind.

..he couldn't trace its origin, only that it had settled there like an itch he couldn't scratch.

It was absurd. Inconvenient, and entirely out of character, yet, here he was watching the curve of her mouth as she smiled at him, awakening that strange pull.

That maddening curiosity. He didn't like that it was happening.

He didn't like that it bothered him. She was his employee.

He had no business entertaining such thoughts.

"What on God's green earth is the matter, Your Grace?" Emma questioned, taking a step back. "You seem quite out of it."

Solomon cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet her gaze again, straightening his spine in an effort to shake the absurdity of it all.

He could only blame his curiosity for this reckless drift of thought.

"I just don't understand why you are so upset about this.

Is this man someone you fancy?" he asked her in an attempt to pivot the subject.

Emma stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head slowly, the incredulity in her expression unmistakable. "That is not the point, Your Grace. People will talk."

"About what?"

"About us," she hissed, her eyes darting to ensure no one nearby had heard. "About a possible courtship. And I cannot afford that right now."

He looked at her as if she had spoken in riddles. "But why would that be a problem?" he asked, genuinely baffled. "You do want to find a husband, do you not?"

"Of course I do," she answered.

"Then another dance with me ought to be very beneficial to you. Being rumored with a duke...one as eligible as myself could only do you good. You'd have suitors lining up before the night ends. I was doing you a favor."

"A favor?" she echoed.

Solomon studied her, trying to make sense of her resistance. She should have been pleased by his actions... or at least flattered. She was the one who had taught him how the ton worked, and yet here she was, ready to scold him.

"While I am... surprised at how quickly you've come to understand the workings of the ton ," Emma said carefully, "I still think it best that we maintain a certain distance. For the sake of appearances, Your Grace."

Solomon's lips twitched, he watched her, still confused. "You think being seen with me would ruin your chances, Miss Lockhart?"

"I think..." she replied, lifting her chin. "...that it would complicate them."

"Is that why you don't want to dance with you again?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Because it would complicate things? What things?"

Emma shifted, her eyes darting away. That was answer enough.

His brows drew together, a flicker of irritation tightening his jaw. "You're keeping something from me," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Again."

Emma sighed. "Your Grace–"

"Do you not want to be seen with me?" he asked, more bluntly this time. "Are you so afraid of rumors that even a harmless dance is now off-limits?"

She didn't respond immediately, and that silence clawed at him. Solomon stepped closer, just slightly. "Even when those rumors could work in your favor? Even when these rumors could make half the gentlemen in here take notice of you."

Still no reply.

Solomon exhaled slowly, the line of his mouth tightening as he took in her silence. "Fine," he said, the word clipped and sharp. "We won't dance again. If it brings you so much distress, I'll spare you the agony."

Emma blinked. "Your Grace, that is not what I meant."

"How could I possibly know what you meant if you refuse to tell me?"

"There's no doubt that being seen with a duke would improve my chances. I just...don't want to do this that way."

For a moment, he said nothing. His jaw tightened, and a muscle ticked as he looked at her.

Then he exhaled quietly, but not without effort.

He decided not to press her further. Not now.

But the restraint cost him. Perhaps she already had her eyes set on the man he had driven away.

The idea scraped against something in him he hadn't quite identified yet. ..something sharp and unwelcome.

Still, he stepped back, schooling his features into calm. "Very well," he said and nodded. "But you will come to the estate this coming week. We have hardly scratched the surface of what I need to learn, and I'm not about to undo the progress we have made."

He turned away from her, preparing to leave. But then her voice stopped him.

"Are you upset with me, Your Grace?" she asked. "It feels as though we're always at odds with each other."

He paused for a moment, not turning to face her immediately. His frustration bubbled up in him, but he masked it quickly, refusing to let it show.

"I'm not upset, Miss Lockhart," he said, his voice even. "We'll speak again on the matter during our next lesson."

"You know I can always tell when you are upset," she said to him. "You have a tell."

Solomon's eyebrows twitched. "A tell?"

Emma nodded. "I might decide to tell you during our next lesson." She smiled softly and retreated.

Solomon contemplated her words for a bit before turning fully, returning to where he stood before.

He couldn't afford to let this impulsive behavior get the best of him.

Whatever it was that had stirred in him, whatever it was that had driven him to act without thinking, he needed to put a stop to it.

As much as he enjoyed teasing Emma, watching her get feisty, and seeing that sharpness in her gaze, the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable with him.

Still, he hated how vulnerable she was making him, how easily she got under his skin. It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

You think being seen with me would ruin your chances, Miss Lockhart?

The words rang in Emma's mind like a persistent echo, uninvited, repeating in the same rhythm as the click of her knitting needles.

Her hands paused mid-motion, the yarn slipping from her fingers as her mind raced, trying to ward off the familiar irritation.

Then, with an exasperated gasp, she dropped the needles altogether, pressed her palms to her face, and let out a muffled scream into her hands.

He was infuriating. Infuriating and... far too present in her thoughts.