Page 123 of Unmasking the Diamond
Luca interjected. “You were murdering innocent women!”
Miss Dawlish’s chin lifted defiantly. “We were providing a service for their families!” she exclaimed, almost triumphantly. “They were merely business transactions.”
“This is your last warning,” Rupert stated.
Miss Dawlish’s gaze snapped towards him, her eyes narrowing. “You would shoot a woman?”
Before anyone could respond, the sharpcrackof a pistol discharging rang through the corridor. The echo bounced off the stone walls, followed by a sharp cry. Miss Dawlish staggered, her pistol clattering to the floor as she clutched her arm, crimson blooming through the sleeve of her dress.
Rosalie stepped forward, the smoke curling from the barrel of her pistol. “He may not, but I would,” she said simply.
“Mother!” Roger cried, panic replacing his arrogance as he dropped to his knees beside her. “Are you all right?”
“I am,” Miss Dawlish rasped, her face pale.
The fight went out of her son in an instant. His weapon slipped from his hand, striking the ground with a dull thud. “You need to help my mother,” he pleaded.
“You have no right to make demands right now,” Alcott growled, stepping forward.
Rosalie crossed the short distance to Miss Dawlish and knelt, inspecting the wound with a practiced glance. “She’ll live,” she announced, rising. Without another word, she turned and disappeared down the dim corridor, her figure melting back into the shadows as swiftly as she had appeared.
Charlotte stared after her, her heart still hammering, her mind spinning with questions—who is Rosalie? What is her connection to Alistair?But there was no time to ask.
Luca turned to her then, his expression tight with worry. “How are you faring?”
Charlotte exhaled shakily. “I have been better.”
Without hesitation, Luca slipped off his jacket and placed it gently around her shoulders. “Let’s get you home,” he said.
“Home,” she whispered, savoring the word. “That sounds lovely.”
Alcott extended his arm. “Come along, Charlotte. I’ll see you to the coach.”
She nodded, her strength waning at last, and accepted her brother’s arm. Together, they stepped out of that dreadful place. The sudden burst of sunlight made her squint, but she was so grateful to be alive.
As they made their way towards the waiting coach, Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. Luca was helping Lady Matthew, his hand steady beneath the trembling woman’s elbow. Her throat tightened. There were so many things she wanted to tell him but this was not the moment.
Soon.
The word lingered in Charlotte’s mind like a promise—fragile, trembling, but full of hope.
21
After seeing Charlotte safely home, Luca sat in the coach as it traveled to his townhouse. His thoughts were anything but still. The memory of Charlotte’s pale face and trembling hands refused to leave him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her in that cell—brave, defiant, and utterly alone.
When the coach came to a stop before his townhouse, he climbed out and ascended the steps, fatigue dragging at his limbs. The door opened before he reached for the handle. His butler bowed silently as Luca entered, grateful to be home at last. He had barely stepped into the entry hall when he spotted his brother descending the staircase, his expression equal parts irritation and curiosity.
“Were you out all evening?” Jude asked, his tone bordering on accusation.
“I was,” Luca admitted, unbuttoning his coat and removing his gloves. “But it is not what it looks like.”
Jude reached the bottom step and crossed his arms. “It looks like you were out with Miss Winslow.”
Luca shook his head. “No, I was with Alcott. Charlotte was abducted.”
For a heartbeat, Jude simply stared at him. “Abducted?”
“Yes.” Luca set his gloves upon the side table and raked a hand through his hair. “It was connected to my investigation into The Chelmsford Asylum.”
