Emma curtsied and stood in front of Cecilia as she watched the Duke of Montclaire stride into their home like he owned the place. His presence was still as overwhelming as she had recalled, and she watched as his eyes swept the room, lingering briefly on Cecilia, who was flushed with shame and clutching onto Emma like a lifeline, before settling on Emma herself.
Emma met his gaze with a measured look, her expression neutral but her mind racing. She didn't know him well, but what she had seen so far left her wary. He was a man who commanded every space he walked into, his every movement deliberate... his every word calculated. There was something secretive about him, something that suggested he enjoyed keeping people on edge.
The memory of the other night... how he had carried her back to the front steps of the ball after her supposed ankle injury flashed through her mind and she swallowed. He had bowed and left without another word, leaving her flustered and confused. She hadn't known what to make of him then, and she still didn't know now.
The duke inclined his head, his expression still unreadable. "Lord Lockhart, thank you for having me. I only came to ensure the ladies are all right," he said in a deep voice. His gaze flicked to Cecilia, who immediately looked down. "After last night's... incident, I felt it prudent to check on their well-being."
"Incident?" Howard asked, turning to Emma and Cecilia, his brow furrowed with concern. "What incident?"
Emma inhaled sharply. "It was nothing serious, Papa," she said quickly. "Cecilia stumbled in the garden last night, and His Grace was kind enough to assist her. That's all. I was there as well."
Howard's face lit up with relief, and he turned to the duke with a grateful smile. "How very kind of you, Your Grace."
Solomon kept his gaze on Emma, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "If I may correct you, Miss Lockhart, you also had trouble with yourankle as well. I recall having to carry you back to the ball," Solomon spoke. "How is it feeling today? Better, I hope?"
Emma's cheeks flamed, and she shot him a glare that could have melted steel.
Howard, oblivious to the tension, beamed. "Emma, you didn't mention you were injured."
"It was nothing. We appreciate your concern, Your Grace," Emma spoke up in a polite but guarded tone. "But as you can see, Cecilia... and I are perfectly fine."
The duke's gaze lingered on Emma for a moment, his emerald eyes searching hers as though he were trying to decipher something. Then, slowly, he tilted his head to the side and his eyebrows slightly furrowed. It was a subtle gesture, almost imperceptible, but it felt... intimate. Too intimate for a man she barely knew. Emma's pulse quickened, but she managed to keep her expression as neutral as possible. Was he silently probing her? Testing her? Or was this simply how he looked at people? Intensely, deliberate, as though he could see straight through them?
She couldn't tell, and that unnerved her. For a moment, she felt as though she were standing on uneven ground, unsure of where to step. It took her more time than needed, but she finally straightened her back, reminding herself that this was just a man. A duke... yes, but still just a man. So she met his gaze with a calm steadiness she didn't entirely feel.
"Actually," Solomon finally spoke again. "There is another matter I wished to discuss. Miss Lockhart, might I trouble you for a moment of your time? A walk in the garden, perhaps?"
Emma's breath caught in her throat. A walk? With him? She glanced at her father, who looked positively delighted at the idea, and then at Cecilia, who was still staring at the floor, her face pale.
"A walk, Your Grace?" she questioned. "With me?"
"Yes. With you." He smiled faintly. "I reckon it wouldn't take that much of your time. We don't even have to leave the premises."
Howard beamed. "Splendid! Emma, do show His Grace the roses. They are in full bloom this time of year."
Emma forced a polite smile, even though her stomach churned with apprehension. She couldn't refuse, not without appearing rude, and certainly not in front of her family. So, swallowing her unease, she nodded. She didn't trust this man, not at all, and she wasn't sure what he could possibly want with her. But she had no choice.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, making sure to keep her movements as graceful as possible despite the tension coiled in her chest.
"Of course, Your Grace. A walk would be... pleasant."
The duke offered her his arm. "Shall we?"
His simple gesture somehow managed to stun her. Emma couldn't recall the last time a gentleman had offered her his arm... or the last time she was called on. But before she couldoverthink it, Solomon tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"You're a spinster, are you not? This should be perfectly appropriate."
Emma's cheeks immediately flushed with indignation, her lips pressing into a thin line.Aspinster?The word stung more than she cared to admit, and his casual delivery of it only made it worse. She wanted to snap back, to remind him that manners dictated one never pointed out such things so bluntly, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she forced a tight smile and placed her hand lightly on his arm.
"Of course, Your Grace," she said in a clipped tone. "How kind of you to remind me."
Solomon seemed oblivious to her irritation, or perhaps he simply didn't care. He began walking... taking long strides and Emma had no choice but to match his pace. Soon they were in the garden, and he finally slowed his pace, allowing them to actually promenade.
Once they were far enough from the house... far away from the sharp ears of her father, Solomon stopped walking and turned to face her. His expression turned serious, his eyes searching hers with that same uneasy intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Miss Lockhart," he began. "I know this might seem strange and you might not know me well, but I figured speaking to you today was a necessity for the both of us."
Emma arched her eyebrows. "I am confused, Your Grace."
