Page 40 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

He could hear his own heart hammering beneath his ribs.

Everything in him wanted to step closer, to reach for her hand and force the wall between them to collapse.

There was no denying that he missed this.

Not just Emma's presence, but the way she challenged him, cornered him, made him think faster and feel deeper.

"Why did you lie about Edmund?" he blurted.

Emma stared at him, her eyes wide, and lips parted in disbelief. She looked frozen in place, as though her mind couldn't quite catch up to the words she'd just heard. Her brows pulled together slowly with confusion and something else... fear, perhaps spilling across her face.

He hadn't meant to say it, not here, not now, not like this. But the moment had swelled, and the question had clawed its way out of him. It had been festering for days, bubbling beneath every word he'd rehearsed and discarded. Now that it was out, he couldn't stop.

"I– I didn't..." she tried to say, but her voice faltered.

"I heard it from Edmund," he said, keeping his tone even.

"He was in Northern England for business and he stopped by the estate.

Apparently, he and Andrew are business partners.

Talk of marriage came up and then we started talking about you.

He looked at me like I'd grown horns when I asked him about the engagement.

He had no reason to lie, or deny you so that only leaves one more truth. That you made it up."

Emma turned away, but not fast enough to hide the sudden shine in her eyes. "I don't know why you did it. I don't know what it was you were trying to run from. But you could've said something. You should have said anything."

Emma's gaze flickered away from him, her breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. She didn't speak at first. But then, almost in the blink of an eye, she curtseyed stiffly. "If you would kindly excuse me, Your Grace."

Before Solomon could say anything else, before he could attempt to explain further or somehow ease the tension between them, she turned on her heel.

Solomon stood motionless, watching her retreat.

He wasn't surprised by her reaction to him.

It wasn't the first time she had run to avoid a conversation.

But he knew it wasn't over. They were going to talk about it. Uncomfortable or not.

"Papa, you don't understand. I don't think it's best we go."

The wind carried the sweet scent of spring blossoms through Hyde Park. It was the primarily the reason Emma had asked her family to promenade. They had been in the estate all day and she figured the serenity of the park would be good for them.

But if she had known that she'd spend the afternoon arguing with Howard, she might have reconsidered the walk.

"Emma, I refuse to argue about this," Howard said. "It's not up for debate."

Emma kept her hands clasped before her as she walked beside her father. Earlier that day, Solomon had sent them an invitation. At first, Emma didn't believe it. She had thought about him so much that when the butler announced that a letter came from his residence, she thought she was hallucinating.

Recalling their conversation from the night before, Emma noted how relieved she had felt when Solomon told her he was not engaged to anyone.

She had not expected her heart to react so swiftly, but it had.

It had lifted, settled, and warmed all at once.

As much as she had tried to convince herself it didn't matter, some part of her had longed to hear those very words, and now that she had, she was not surprised by how glad it made her.

The thought of Solomon belonging to another.

..of him smiling at another woman the way he used to smile at her was unbearable.

It was for this reason that she had to stay strong.

Judging from her reaction to the news that he was not engaged, Emma knew she still had a long way to go.

She needed to stay away from him. At least until her feelings for him subsided and she could bear the thought of him with someone else.

Until then, she had to keep her distance.

"I still don't see why we must go," Emma insisted. "We don't have to attend every dinner party we are invited to."

Her father gave her a sidelong glance. "Because it would be rude not to, and rudeness is not a trait I plan to have associated with any daughter of mine."

"You've turned down plenty of invitations before," she pressed on. "Remember the Calverley's hunting weekend in Kent? Or the Viscountess Durham's musicale? You didn't even blink before saying no."

Her father gave a soft hum. A sound that was neither agreement nor dismissal. "Those were social calls. This is different."

Emma frowned. "It's the same thing, Papa!" she said, a little too sharply. "In addition, you barely know the duke. He's not even a close friend."

"All the more reason to attend," he insisted.

"But why must we suddenly oblige this one? Just because a duke requested it?" she mumbled.

Howard shook his head. "Because the duke did more than request, Emma. That letter may have been wrapped in polite words, but there was nothing casual about it. You may not see it, but I do. The tone was clear. He expects us there."

Emma frowned and looked away. She couldn't blame her father for wanting to attend Solomon's dinner party. Knowing the kind of man Howard was, he could never miss a function hosted by an influential man like Solomon.

Solomon expected her to come, and it was smart of him to go through her father's eagerness to associate with power.

But the thought of being in the same room with Solomon made her stomach twist with unease.

After everything that had happened at the ball, the things he said, the questions he asked, the lie she had no explanation for. .. how could she possibly face him?

She had run from him that night simply because she couldn't defend herself. She had nothing clever to say. No reasonable answer, and certainly not the truth.

It seemed as though fate was working against her.

Of all the places Edmund could be. Of all the people he could have met.

He had to cross paths with Solomon, and at the most unfortunate time.

The lie Emma thought would fade into obscurity had taken shape, breathing, moving, following her like a shadow she couldn't escape.

Now, Solomon was drawing her back into the truth she had tried so hard to outrun.

The absurdity of it all still made her feel lightheaded. She hadn't meant for the lie to travel far. She hadn't even expected Solomon to return, and most importantly, he had confronted her.

"We'll need new dresses for the dinner party. Something refined. It wouldn't do to show up before a duke looking last season," Howards voice roused her from her thoughts.

Emma stopped walking. "No, Papa," she said firmly, shaking her head. "We can't afford it. You know we can't. We've only just managed to stretch the little we have to keep the household afloat. You want to throw it away on gowns we don't need?"

Her father, unbothered by her protest, waved a hand as if swatting away her concerns.

"Emma, it is not simply about the dresses.

It's about appearance. The ton may whisper behind our backs, but they still watch us.

The Duke of Montclaire has requested our company.

That alone is enough reason to dress properly.

If we are to salvage anything from this season, we must begin by accepting invitations from those who seek our company and responding accordingly. "

Emma's brow creased as she quickened her steps to keep up with him. "Papa, we have dresses that are perfectly fine for the occasion," she said, a note of exasperation creeping into her voice. "It's a private dinner not a presentation at court."

Howard stopped abruptly in his tracks and turned to her.

"I am aware that you have dresses, Emma.

But none from this season. You've worn them all before.

These things matter, no matter how much you wish they didn't. We cannot afford to look faded or.

.. forgotten in the past. Not when we're already walking a fine line. "

Emma stepped in front of him then, forcing him to stay rooted where he stood.

"But we are walking a thin line," she whispered.

"So shouldn't we be cautious? We don't have the luxury to spend just to make an impression, certainly not when we can still make do.

No one will mind if our gowns are a season old at a private dinner party.

This is another reason why I would have preferred we don't attend. "

"I insist," Howard rasped. "It's the Duke of Montclaire we're talking about."

"Pardon me saying this, Papa but you do not know the man," she said to him with a scoff. "He certainly does not care for appearances."

"How would you know that?"

Emma stuttered. She had said too much. She feared that Howard would begin to connect the dots and realize that she and Solomon had a complicated relationship. Bur before her silence could feed his suspicion, they were interrupted by a familiar voice that made Emma stiffen.

"Lord Lockhart," Lord Pearlton greeted.

Emma turned and surprised herself by nearly sighing aloud in relief. Lord Pearlton stood in front of them, with another lord at his side.

"Lord Caldhurst here was just telling me about a hunting party he is putting together. I suggested he talked to you about it because you know better about these things," Lord Pearlton explained.

Lord Caldhurst turned slightly toward Howard, smiling. "Pleased to meet you, Lord Lockhart. I've heard only good things about you from Lord Pearlton. I hear you're quite the connoisseur when it comes to countryside sport."

Howard chuckled, pleased. "Well, I wouldn't go that far, Lord Caldhurst, but I do know a good bit about the land in those parts. I spent some time in Derbyshire in my youth. My uncle had property out near Matlock."

"Ah, splendid then!" Lord Caldhurst said. "I'm considering hosting a gathering on my estate in early summer. With game, archery, a bit of sport. Perhaps you would be interested in joining?"

As the two men fell into deeper conversation, Emma suddenly became aware of her own silence.

She was now left awkwardly standing in front of Lord Pearlton, who – she could tell – was finding it awkward as well.

His forced grin was as bright and persistent as ever, and though she disliked him for various justifiable reasons, she could hardly stand there like a statue without saying a word. It would be rude.

Forcing a polite smile, she dipped into a belated curtsy. "Good morning again, my lord. I hope you've been keeping well."

Lord Pearlton bowed in return, his gaze lingering on her for only a second before he cleared his throat. "Good morning, Miss Lockhart."

She nodded once more, clasping her hands before her as silence settled awkwardly between them again.

She loathed standing before him. His presence always made her skin prickle, but for once, she was thankful for the interruption he had brought.

Anything to distract from the conversation with her father.

"My lord," she said, striving for civility. "What brings you to Hyde Park this morning?"

"Enjoying the air, and making conversation with acquaintances," he replied with a smirk.

She offered a tight smile in response, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she recalled the frustrating ordeal he had put Cecilia through.

"Though I must confess, my last stroll through this park was far less calming," Lord Pearlton added.

Emma raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching as she tried to hide her reluctance to continue the conversation. "Oh? Why is that, my lord?"

"I'm guessing you ought to know why that is," he answered and scoffed. "After seeing you with the Duke of Montclaire at Lord Alexandar's Ball last week, it all started to make sense."

Emma tilted her head to the side. "I'm not sure I'm following, Lord Pearlton."

"The last time I was invited to the park to meet with His Grace, I thought he heard about my business triumphs and wanted to forge a partnership," he explained, visible uncomfortable.

"Imagine my surprise when the Duke of Montclaire issues me a warning to stay clear from the Lockhart women. Miss Cecilia in particular."

Lord Pearlton inhaled sharply and placed both hands behind him. "Please make sure to let the duke know that I kept my word. It was never my intention to make Miss Cecilia... uneasy. I would prefer not to be on the receiving end of His Grace's disapproval again."

Emma stared at him, utterly stunned. "The duke... asked you to stay clear of Cecilia?"

Lord Caldhurst clapped her father on the shoulder and offered a hearty chuckle, turning Lord Pearlton's attention back to the conversation he was supposed to be a part of.

"Well, Lord Lockhart," Caldhurst said jovially. "I shall send word about the hunting party once we've set a date. It would do me good to have someone with your experience involved."

Her father nodded with an affable grin. "I'll look forward to it, my lord," he said then turned to Lord Pearlton. "We should sit down for a drink one of these days, my friend."

"Certainly, Lockhart," Lord Pearlton answered.

The three of them exchanged goodbyes and parted ways. Emma on the other hand, with her brows knitted, biting her lower lip, stood frozen in place, contemplating Lord Pearlton's words.

Solomon was the reason Cecilia could finally breathe again? The reason Emma didn't need to worry about keeping Pearlton at arm's length every time they were at any function?

She hadn't known. He had never told her. He hadn't even so much as hinted. Yet, she wondered if anything would have changed if he had told her he did what it did. She wondered if it would have made it even more difficult to let go of him.

A lump rose in her throat.

But what did it mean? Why did he go to such lengths?

Why did he go as far as threatening another man for her sake?

Even her father had never been able to protect Cecilia in quite the same way.

But Solomon had taken it upon himself to put a man like Lord Pearlton in his place, so much that a difficult man like Pearlton backed away without throwing a tantrum.

The gesture stirred something deep inside her. Something she had fought for weeks to bury.

Emma drew in a slow breath and forced her feet to move, rejoining her father and siblings. Solomon was making it so difficult to forget him and now that he was back in London, hellbent on seeing her again... she wasn't sure if she could control her emotions if they were in the same room again.