"... Lockhart," she answered. "And no, you do not owe me anything, Your Grace."
"I reckon I do, and I always repay my debts."
Before she could protest, he bent down and scooped her into his arms with surprising ease, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back. Emma gasped, her hands instinctively flying to his shoulders to steady herself. "What on God's green earth do you think you are doing, Your Grace?" she rasped in utter disbelief.
He glanced at her leg. "You said you twisted your ankle."
Emma gave him a knowing look. "Oh, let's not pretend you believed that for even a second."
"Well, we still have to play the part," he said simply, his smirk returning as he began walking toward the estate. "You said yourself that high society is unforgiving. If we are to sell the story of your twisted ankle, we must commit to it fully. Or how else would we explain why we have been in the garden for so long?"
Emma's cheeks burned, and she opened her mouth to argue, to tell him this was entirely unnecessary. But the words caught in her throat as she caught a closer look at his face in the moonlight. His jaw was strong, his features sharp yet softened by the faintest hint of stubble, and his eyes, she hadn't noticed before, weren't just dark. They were a deep, rich shade of emerald, framed by lashes so thick they seemed almost unfair. In that moment, she realized that the debutantes' whispered descriptions of him had been understated rather than exaggerated. He was, she realized with a jolt, unbearably and infuriatingly handsome.
Solomon seemed to notice her staring because he then tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Something the matter, Miss Lockhart?" he asked.
Emma quickly looked away, her heart pounding. "N-no," she muttered. "Just... put me down, Your Grace. This is highly improper."
"Improper?" he repeated. "I'm merely ensuring your safe return to the ballroom. What could be more proper than that?"
Emma groaned inwardly, though she couldn't suppress the small, traitorous smile that tugged at her lips. As much as she hated to admit it, Solomon was right. It was a clever way to explain them walking out of that dark corner. But that didn't make the feel of his arms around her, or the way her heart raced at his nearness any easier to bear.
Solomon's voice broke the silence. "You are welcome, by the way," he said to her, sparing her only a glance.
Emma opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. Instead, she sighed, realizing that no matter how much sheresisted, this strange man had somehow found a way of leaving her utterly disarmed.
CHAPTER TWO
"You were raised better than this, Cecilia Lockhart. What were you thinking?"
Emma had not waited a second more after the ball ended to go home. The carriage ride was thick with tension. Emma sat across from Cecilia, her arms crossed and her expression stern. The carriage fell silent, the only sound the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the cobblestones. Emma waited for Cecilia to respond, but she didn't. Instead, she sat with her hands between her legs, staring down at them.
"I need to understand why you did what you did and what you thought would happen," Emma questioned. "Did you think that the duke would be forced to marry you if you were caught in that garden by other people? Is that what you thought would happen?"
Cecilia sighed and turned to stare out the window, actively ignoring Emma's words.
"If that's what you thought would happen then you are very naïve, Cecilia," Emma continued. "It would have ruinedyour reputation and left the duke unscathed. You could have destroyed your future."
"I know," Cecilia finally spoke. "I know, and I am sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to do something. Anything. I am a member of this family, I should be helping too."
Emma blinked, taken aback by the fragileness in her sister's voice. "Cecilia, you have no responsibility that–"
"Yes, I do," she answered, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "You always acted strong, and capable. You say that you are over the idea of marriage or love but I know that is a lie. You do your best to keep the peace in the house even though everything has been thrown into chaos because of Papa. You never let anyone see how much you're struggling. But I see it, Emma. I see the way you stay up late, poring over ledgers. I see the way you smile through every ball, every dinner, even though you hate every second of it. I cannot just sit and do nothing while you sacrifice everything for the family. You are my sister, we are supposed to help each other."
Emma's heart ached as she listened to Cecilia's words. The anger in her chest began to give way to a deep, aching sadness and she turned away, blinking back the tears that were stinging her eyes.
"Cecilia, you are eighteen years old," Emma said to her. "You are a debutante, and you have a responsibility to make sure that you find a good match and get married into a good family. You are not responsible for the operations of the home, or for Papa."
"The reason you stay up every night is because you are thinking of ways to pay off my dowry when I eventually find a match, is it not?"
Emma wanted to respond but she paused, unable to neither tell the truth nor lie. But the longer she waited, the easier it was for the lump in her throat to slide down, giving small room for her to speak freely. "I don't stay up every night," she said defensively. "Where did you get such an idea from?"
"Don't lie to me, Emma," Cecilia said to her. "We are barely getting by."
"Do not say that," Emma said to her. " I might do things that make you uncomfortable, but I do what I do because I love you, Cecilia. Because I want you to have the life you deserve. But trapping a man into marriage is not the answer. It's reckless, and it could have ruined us all."
Cecilia's shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her hands, her tears almost spilling over. "I just... I wanted to help," she whispered. "I know it was foolish, Emma. But what else was I supposed to do?" she continued. "Sit back and watch as our family falls apart? Watch as you work yourself to the bone trying to keep us afloat while I do nothing? Father allowed me to buy a new dress for the Season, but you, you had to suffer once more, wearing the same gowns from last year. I just wanted to solve our problems in one swift go."
Emma's heart ached as she stood up and sat by Cecilia's side, pulling her sister into a tight embrace. "Oh, Cecilia," she murmured, her voice gentle now. "You don't have to fix everything. Especially when there is nothing to fix. That's not your responsibility. We are fine. You have nothing to worry about."
