Page 12 of Unmasking the Diamond
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
“But you will.”
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “Must you always be so blasted cocky?”
He placed a hand over his chest, feigning shock. “What foul language, coming from such delicate lips.”
She spun on her heel and started briskly towards the townhouse.
He lengthened his stride to keep pace, grinning at her determination to ignore him. “Have you come to a decision yet?”
Her gaze remained fixed ahead. “No.”
“Then I will strive to be patient.”
“Go away.”
His lips twitched. He ought to obey—yet he could not. “But if I do, I will miss you.”
She halted abruptly just outside the rear door, turning on him with an incredulous glare. “Do you even hear yourself speak?”
“I hear it,” he said, “and I wholeheartedly approve.”
“Good day, my lord.” She swept through the back door with regal disdain, a footman holding it open.
He called after her, unable to resist, “Good day, Diamond.”
The sharp sound of her scoff drifted back to him, and he found himself smiling like a lovesick fool.Why was teasing her his favorite thing to do?
Now that was settled, Luca felt a measure of satisfaction. He could finally return toThe London Gazetteand put some proper work in. But, as he stepped through the wrought iron gate, his stride faltered.
Lord Alcott was waiting.
The viscount leaned with casual elegance against a post, arms folded, his gaze leveled squarely upon Luca. Too squarely.
Botheration.
“Are you interested in pursuing my sister?” Alcott asked, his tone deceptively mild. His eyes, however, held none of that ease.
“Good gads, no,” Luca replied at once.
Alcott did not look convinced. “Yet you take a turn about the gardens with her?” He pushed off the post, straightening with deliberate slowness. “What am I supposed to think?”
Luca forced a smile as an idea came to his mind. “I wanted to write an article about your sister since she is the diamond of the Season, after all.” He delivered it with a lightness he did not feel.
Alcott’s stare remained sharp. “And did she agree to it?”
“Not yet,” Luca admitted. “But she will. I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”
A faint muscle ticked along Alcott’s jaw. He closed the distance between them with a single step. “She is my sister, Luca.” The words were quiet, simple even, but the steel beneath them left no room for jest. Alcott was not a man one wished to cross.
Luca inclined his head. “I understand. I will treat her with the utmost respect.”
Alcott appeared to weigh his words before he finally stepped back. “See that you do. Good day, Luca.”
With that, the viscount strode away, every inch the protective brother.
Luca exhaled as his gaze drifted instinctively to the townhouse, half-hoping to see one more glimpse of Miss Winslow. But there was no sign of her. Which was probably for the best. He could weather her disdain, for now. But with enough patience—and persistence—he would wear down her edges until she sparkled for him alone.
