Page 37 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY

" I 'm telling you! I heard from my cousin who is away on business in Northen England. The duke is engaged!"

Emma's eyes flicked toward the whisperer, a debutant whose name escaped her in that moment. She was speaking to a small cluster of women seated at the table nearby, their conversation now growing louder and louder.

She felt her pulse quicken as the words reached her ears, but she kept her composure, lightly tracing the delicate rim of her teacup with her fingers. Beside her, Cecilia perked up at the mention of the duke, her eyes flashing with curiosity.

"That is the third time I am hearing that today," Cecilia whispered to Emma, leaning in slightly. "To whom?"

"We don't know who the lady is exactly," another lady, who had been sitting quietly on Emma's other side, leaned forward into the conversation, her voice carrying a bit too loudly, as if eager to insert herself into the gossip.

It took Emma a second to recognize Lady Patricia Danbury. She was also a debutante, but a very vocal and opinionated one.

"I overheard a conversation at the last ball," she said, her eyes darting around to make sure she had the attention of the others.

"All I know is that the woman in question is the daughter of a local lord from the North.

Apparently, His Grace has been visiting the lord's estate nearly every single day since he arrived in the country.

It's all anyone is talking about over there. "

Cecilia leaned in, her interest piqued. "That does sound rather serious."

Patricia scoffed and shook her head. "But tell me, why would he even leave London for such a thing? There are far more eligible women here in town, wealthier, better connected, and far more refined. Why go all the way to the countryside?"

Another lady across the table nodded. "Exactly. It's not as though London lacks for debutantes of breeding and beauty. If His Grace truly wanted a wife, he could have had his pick weeks ago."

Emma's grip tightened on her teacup. She tried to inhale deeply, but her breath shuddered.

Another lady, seated farther down the table and clearly straining to join the conversation, leaned in.

"Well," she drawled, lowering her voice though everyone was already listening, "I heard that His Grace only went up north to handle some important business matter.

But now... now the whispers say he's been seen calling at the same estate almost every single day, and the latest is that marrying the daughter of the house would.

.. how did my cousin put it?...secure everything quite nicely. "

A collective gasp followed.

"Oh, how perfectly strategic," Patricia murmured, fanning herself.

"A tidy little alliance. Seal the deal and the girl.

To be frank, I'm not surprised His Grace would go that far.

They say he's a brutal businessman. Cold as stone when it comes to negotiation.

So really, what's a little courtship if it sweetens the terms? "

The other lady, seated farther down the table leaned in again, this time, directing her comment to Patricia.

"Well, it is a match to the daughter of a powerful local lord.

That's the real clincher, isn't it? No wonder His Grace has been such a fixture up North.

Those country alliances may lack the glamour of London, but they come with land, influence, and men who'd rather marry power than beauty. "

"I daresay..." Patricia answered. "... if she's both, well, then His Grace has struck gold."

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat. A part of her wanted to join the conversation, to calmly dismiss the claims circling the table.

Solomon had told her, with unmistakable certainty, that he had no intention of marrying.

He had spoken of it plainly, almost coldly, explaining that he didn't want children, that such a life simply wasn't for him.

It was that very conversation that had haunted her since, that had chipped away at the lightness in her laugh and the sparkle in her eyes. It had been the turning point, the moment that sealed the impossibility of them. The reason why she had withdrawn, tucked herself away so she could heal.

But the other part of her... the wounded, uncertain, and far too human part whispered doubts into her heart that she could not silence. Had he changed his mind? Or worse, had he never meant a word of what he'd said to her?

Had he truly been visiting the same estate every day? A powerful local lord's daughter? Emma didn't even know there was a powerful lord in that part of the country. She wanted to believe that it was not possible, that Solomon would never break his promise to himself simply for business.

Yet, she couldn't help but wonder if the arrangement was real. Did the lady know what she was agreeing to? Did she know he didn't want children, didn't want a family, didn't want the life most women were raised to dream of? Did she accept it? Did her father... the powerful lord accept it?

If they knew... and they still struck the arrangement anyway.

.. then perhaps she had misjudged Solomon.

Perhaps she was the only one foolish enough to think that something like promises ever meant anything to him.

Did she know him well enough to be certain he wouldn't yield?

Was his business far more important than his promise to himself?

"You must fix your face," Cecilia whispered. She leaned closer, her eyes darting across the table to the other ladies. "People saw you dance with the duke at Lady Farnsworth's ball."

Emma blinked, startled. She tried to force her lips to curve into a smile, but she couldn't hold it.

"If you sit here looking like you've been personally wounded, they'll think you were... hopeful," Cecilia continued. "Or worse. Heartbroken. We cannot give them that."

Emma swallowed hard, adjusting her posture and lifting her chin, though it took everything in her to do so. The last thing she wanted was to feed the ton's insatiable appetite for drama, to become the pitiful girl pining after a man who had allegedly moved on without a second glance.

But her demeanor immediately faltered and she frowned again. To her own surprise, and mounting frustration Emma felt heated and sharp course through her body. A sudden, uninvited pang that nestled itself in her chest like a thorn.

The only word that came to mind when she tried to figure out what it was, was jealousy.

Emma shifted again in her seat. It made no sense. She had no claim to him. There had never been a promise, no understanding between them, and yet, the thought of Solomon betrothed to another woman stirred something sharp and unwelcome inside her.

"Emma!" Cecilia cautioned.

"I'm all right," Emma rasped. "No one will notice anything. Don't worry. It was just one dance. Who could possibly tie me to him after one dance? You're overreacting."

Cecilia gave her a knowing look. "London society, that's who. They need only a feather to make a whole peacock. You're moping, dear sister."

Emma exhaled, her lips pressed into a thin line. "All right. Is this better?" she asked, flashing Cecilia a smile.

Cecilia playfully rolled her eyes and nodded. "Much better," she said, putting down her teacup. "Anyway, let's talk about something far less distressing. Like the glorious fact that Lord Pearlton has finally taken the hint and backed off."

Emma blinked, momentarily distracted. "Backed off?"

Cecilia grinned, a little too pleased. "Yes! Two nights ago at the Darlington soirée, he was there, smack in the middle of the room, bothering everyone but me. I don't believe he spared me so much as a glance, and thank heavens for it. I imagine he'll be gone for the rest of the Season."

She gave a dramatic sigh of relief. "I am so pleased.

Now I can attend events without constantly looking over my shoulder, dreading that he might corner me again to ramble on about the dozen children he plans for us to have, or worse, how he expects I'll give up all ‘frivolities' like books and music to raise them. "

Emma let out a short giggle. "Well, that is fortunate. Now that I think of it, he hasn't called on you in a while."

"Like I said, thank the heavens for it," Cecilia repeated.

"Hopefully it stays that way," Emma said. "At the next ball, Papa will introduce you to some gentlemen that you might like. Make sure to keep an open mind."

Cecilia nodded in response and was then distracted by the lady seated on her other hand.

She fell into silence again, her gaze drifting across the garden, but not really seeing anything.

Her thoughts had returned to Solomon. In that moment she realized, that not only was she jealous, she was angry too.

If the rumor was true, if he truly had gone north to court another woman, then he had lied to her.

Whether it had been intentional or not, it didn't matter.

"Solomon, you're not listening to me. Do you know how difficult it was to secure this meeting with the Duke of Walford?"

"I heard you," Solomon said coolly, eyes never leaving the ledger in his hand. He set it down and reached for another, scanning for any essential ones he could take with him.

"You heard me, but clearly you're not listening." Andrew stepped further into the room. "You walk out on this meeting, and we might not get another one. The duke might not extend invitations twice."

"Andrew, we will write to him again," Solomon said in response, snatching a sealed envelope from the desk and slipping it into his leather folio. "I must go back to London."

"Why?" Andrew inquired. "What could be so important that you risk this?"

Solomon said nothing. Instead, he paused, staring at the paper in his hand as if it held the answers he was searching for.