Page 36 of Unmasking the Diamond
That earned him a smile, and it made something stir uncomfortably in his chest. “I shall be looking forward to it,” she said.
He forced himself to look away, turning towards Lord and Lady Alcott. “Goodnight,” he offered, before following his brother out to their waiting coach.
Once the door shut behind them and the coach lurched forward, Jude wasted no time. He fixed Luca with a raised brow. “Do you want to explain what you were about with Miss Winslow?”
Luca stretched his legs out, feigning nonchalance. “Pardon?”
“You two were speaking in hushed voices,” Jude said. “I tried to eavesdrop, but I only caught snippets.”
Luca turned his face towards the window, letting the blur of lamplight mask his expression. “We were discussing nothing of importance.”
Jude snorted, disbelief dripping from the sound. “Is that right?”
“Must we discuss this?” Luca asked, sharper than he intended.
His brother tugged at his cravat, a sure sign of his disapproval. “Why Miss Winslow? Surely there is someone else you could pursue?”
He clenched his jaw. “I have no intention of pursuing Miss Winslow,” he asserted.
Jude leaned back, arms crossed, wholly unconvinced. “Are you not taking her on a carriage ride tomorrow?”
“I am, but?—”
Jude cut him off with an upraised hand. “Just promise me one thing. Think with your mind as well as your heart.”
“You are worried about something that will never happen.”
Jude regarded him steadily. “Miss Winslow is beautiful, I will grant you that. But she is vain and shallow, just like all the young women of theton. They speak, but they have nothing of real importance to say.”
Luca straightened, his voice firm with conviction. “Miss Winslow is not like that.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Jude said, “but I don’t want to see you get hurt chasing after a young woman you have no business with.”
The words landed like a slap. Luca’s hands curled into tight fists against his knees. He forced the words through gritted teeth. “Miss Winslow and I are no more than acquaintances.” Even as he said it, he knew it was a flimsy shield, one Jude could see straight through.
“Be careful, Luca.” Jude’s voice softened, but not with kindness—more with resignation. “It is better to be alone than to marry the wrong young woman.”
The jab of it twisted something sharp in Luca’s chest. He shot back before he could stop himself. “Is that why you are still unwed?”
Jude’s mouth pressed into a tight, white line. For a long moment, he said nothing, only stared into the shadows of the coach as if weighing whether Luca even deserved an answer. Finally, he said, “Every young woman looks at me like I am the solution to their problems. A prized stallion. But I don’t want to save anyone.”
Luca heard the bitterness beneath the words. Jude rarely revealed much of himself, but that? That sounded like weariness. Still, he would not let his brother skirt reality. “You are heir to a dukedom. You will need an heir eventually.”
Jude didn’t flinch. He didn’t even hesitate. “You will be my heir.”
He couldn’t tell if his brother meant it as a curse or a gift. “Why don’t you want to marry?” For a fleeting second, a look of pain crossed Jude’s eyes, but it vanished almost instantly, shuttered away behind that familiar mask of iron. “It is not in the cards for me.”
“Jude…” Luca started, leaning forward.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Jude snapped. “My life may be defined by my place of birth, but that doesn’t mean anyone can force me to marry.”
Luca stared at him, torn between frustration and pity. He wanted to demand answers, to pry open whatever wound Jude kept buried. But he also knew his brother well enough to recognize when the walls were up and unyielding. Jude carried burdens he refused to share, and for all Luca’s bravado, hecouldn’t shake the sudden ache of wishing his brother trusted him enough to share them.
7
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows as Charlotte walked towards the dining room. It was far earlier than she normally stirred. Ordinarily, she preferred to linger in bed with her chocolate and a book until half the morning was gone. But rest had eluded her, her mind buzzing with anticipation. Not because of Lord Luca—heavens, no. The man vexed her to distraction, forever prying and provoking. No, it was because of what awaited them both: her first true interview. The solicitor for the Ravenhurst Trading Company. Finally, it was an opportunity to prove herself capable of real journalism, not merely idle Society gossip.
Her steps slowed as she saw her brother seated at the head of the table, his newssheets unfolded before him, and his breakfast plate half-emptied.
