Page 29 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

" W ell, was he upset?"

"I don't know, Lavinia. But I think so."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"I didn't wait. I just... ran away."

Emma paced the length of Lavinia's bedroom, her fingers wringing the edge of her shawl, and her brow creased in a knot that had not relaxed for days now.

Her steps were slow, and she felt tired, despite how restlessly her thoughts were spinning in her head.

Her heart felt heavy, burdened by words she could not take back and a silence she had not expected.

Lavinia watched her from the edge of the bed, arms folded loosely across her lap. She had only just arrived in London for family business opportunity to take her gloves off before Emma began to unravel.

"He might not be upset," she said to Emma.

"I think he is," she answered.

"How could you possibly know? You said he didn't say anything."

"Because he called me Miss Lockhart," she answered, picking at her fingers.

"I don't understand what you mean." Lavinia shook her head. "He called you Miss Lockhart? That's it?"

Emma threw her head back and groaned. "When he's happy... or in a good mood, he calls me Ducky–"

"Ducky?" Lavinia let out a sharp laugh. "I'm sorry... you said, Ducky?"

"Don't laugh, I think it's kind... adorable," Emma said, taking only a moment to take in the fact that she had now grown fond of the absurd nickname.

"My apologies. Carry on."

"When he's being formal, he calls me Miss Lockhart," she continued. "He only calls me Emma when he's entirely serious."

"So, what did he call you when you had the argument?"

Emma bit her lower lip. "All of them?" she groaned again and massaged her forehead.

"I shouldn't have said what I said," Emma muttered, more to herself than to Lavinia.

"He didn't even argue with me, Lavinia. He just..

.looked at me." She exhaled sharply, frustrated with herself.

"He said nothing. I just... I'm starting to see a pattern here and I don't like it. We always argue about something."

Slowly, Lavinia rose to her feet and walked over to the window.

"All right. Forgive me if I don't say what you want to hear Emma, but I have only had a few moments to process everything you just told me.

.. and it is a lot. But from what I have been able to gather, I think you are in love with the duke, my dear friend. "

Emma stopped abruptly in her tracks, turned to Lavinia and laughed, clenching her stomach. "Oh, that is utterly ridiculous."

"Is it?" she questioned. "Emma, you are pacing because you are troubled that he might be offended with you."

"That's not why I'm troubled," she said. "I am troubled that... I overstepped," she struggled to say. "You know me, Lavinia. I always try to be polite, I don't overstep, I stay in the shadows. Until recently, I never left the wall at balls. I just don't want him to think I was impolite."

Lavinia tilted her head sideways, giving Emma a knowing look. "I think it's high time you stop deceiving yourself, Emma. It might help if you admit it. That way–"

Emma's head snapped up. "No," she said quickly. Too quickly. "I mean... I don't. I can't. I just...I don't like how things were left."

Lavinia walked over to Emma and pulled her to the bed to sit. "You do realize how Andrew and I met, right? How we fell in love? It was unexpected."

Emma sighed. "Lavinia, it's not like that."

"Listen..." she urged her, taking Emma's hand.

"I know why you are so adamant about this.

In fact, I understand why you would want to keep denying whatever it is that you might feel.

I was there when your mother died. Alice and I had to console you and we also witnessed how your papa spiraled.

It's a scary concept, but you are not your papa, Emma. "

Emma mellowed, dropping her shoulders. "He's frustrating," she said at last, her voice quiet.

"What I can admit to you is that I find him incredibly attractive.

He's handsome, yes. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't drawn to him.

But love?" She shook her head, eyes on the floor. "No. That's not what this is."

Lavinia smiled, just a little. "If you say so, my friend," she answered. "So, what do you want to do? Would you like to apologize for your utterance to him?"

"I already did. Immediately after," she said. "I don't know what's best to do. I know that if I keep meeting him for lessons, sooner or later, these feelings might blossom into something else. The best thing to do is to never see him again, that way, I put a stop to it immediately."

"But you need the lessons," Lavinia noted. "You need the money for Cecilia's dowry."

"I don't even know," Emma groaned. "Cecilia is.

.. I'm not sure she will find a match this season, so.

.. what's the use? We have been lucky. Lord Pearlton has not had time for social events in the last week, so he has not approached Cecilia or come calling at our estate.

But we know that isn't going to last and soon, he will come back.

Unfortunately, he is the only suitor showing interest and I know Cecilia would rather die than marry that man. "

Emma inhaled sharply. "Goodness, I wouldn't even let her marry him. But my point is, he happened to kill whatever zeal she had going into the Season. She is uninterested in balls, or socializing in general."

Lavinia patted Emma on the back. "There's always next Season."

"Right. So... do I still need to be working this hard to make money for her dowry when we might not get a viable suitor this Season?"

"What about you then?" Lavinia asked. "Or have you forgotten that you too intend to make a match this season?"

Emma groaned and slumped on the bed. "Right. I am getting married this season."

Lavinia smiled. "You are? You're certain?"

"I have to be optimistic. If Cecilia doesn't get married, then I have to find a husband that would care for us.

That way, we will have the dowry for her when the time comes.

" Emma paused to think. "Now it makes sense.

I have to make sure that I have at least one dowry ready. For either Cecilia or for myself."

"So, you will continue the lessons?" Lavinia asked, laying by her side.

"I think I can handle two more lessons," Emma responded. "Or one more. Then, the dowry money would be complete. I wouldn't need to see him again. I'll just make sure that our final lesson is packed. It will be productive, efficient... professional."

Lavinia shifted, propping herself up to stare at Emma. "And after that?"

"After that, it'll be complete. Once he is out of my sight, everything will be back to normal."

"I understand," Lavinia said, nodding. "But you know I'm always here if you need to talk about it. Or not talk about it. Whatever you need."

Emma offered a faint smile, grateful but unwilling to linger on the topic. "Thank you, Lavinia. Truly. I really needed to talk to someone about this. Cecilia is sick of me talking about it. I walked into her room this morning to talk and she literarily screamed."

"What?" Lavinia giggled. "She screamed?"

Emma nodded. "According to her, if she hears anything about Solomon again, she will lose her mind."

"She said that?" Lavinia gasped, eyes wide with amusement. "Poor thing. You must have been driving her mad with your worrying."

"Poor thing?" Emma gasped. "What about me? I'm near losing my mind and Cecilia told me that she would be there for me. We had this beautiful conversation about my feelings and she assured me that she would help. But she cannot even help me process my thoughts."

"Emma, even you cannot process your own thoughts."

Emma chuckled lightly. "Ah, don't even get me started on Cecilia and my papa. I should be grateful that they have stopped their endless fighting, but Lavinia I was suffering so much. You have no idea."

"Tell me all about it, Ducky," Lavinia teased her.

Emma let out a loud laugh. "Stop. It's odd when you say it. Let us leave that term for the duke, shall we?" she said. "But I will tell you all about it..."

They both dissolved into giggles, letting the night fall quietly around them. Although Emma still carried the uneasy ache beneath her smile, for the first time in days, she felt a little lighter.

He was watching her, she could see him.

Emma had not wanted to come to the Opera.

She had thought of a dozen excuses. A headache.

A prior engagement. A sudden urge to organize her wardrobe by color.

But Cecilia had looked far too excited about the opera.

She loved operas. Her cheeks tinged with a familiar glow Emma hadn't seen in weeks.

It was the first time Cecilia had been excited to go somewhere with eagerness. Emma couldn't say no.

So there she was, tucked into the corner of Lady Wentworth's music room, watching Cecilia chat animatedly with a lady Emma had only seen at different balls before.

The young woman, slender and wide-eyed, had only arrived in Town for her first Season, and by some miracle, she and Cecilia had struck up a conversation.

Thankfully, Lord Pearlton was nowhere in sight.

But Solomon was. He stood at the other end of the room. Each time she chanced a glance in his direction, she found his gaze already there, fixed on her. It was maddening. And confusing.

She couldn't breathe in there.

Rising softly from her seat, Emma slipped through the side of the music room and exited into the corridor. The hallway was blessedly quiet, lined with soft carpets. She let her shoulders drop, taking a steadying breath.

But she had only taken two steps toward the far end when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her. She turned swiftly, scared that she had wandered too far away from the party, but her breath caught in her throat.

"Your Grace," she managed to whisper.