Page 64 of Unmasking the Diamond
The carriage jolted to a halt before her townhouse and relief swept through her. She bolted for the door, desperate for distance. A footman helped her descend, but Luca caught up to her before she arrived at the main door, his hand gently catching her sleeve.
“What is wrong?” His voice was low, insistent.
“Nothing. I am merely tired,” she said quickly, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
She lifted her gaze. “Satisfied?”
“No.” His eyes searched hers. “Did I upset you?”
“That is ludicrous. You give yourself far too much credit, my lord.”
“Then why are you flustered?”
Her voice snapped sharper than she intended. “May I go, or is this interrogation not yet over?”
He held her with that unrelenting stare. “Tell me what I did, so I may apologize.”
She stepped back, creating distance the only way she could. “Goodbye, my lord.”
And that ought to have been the end. But Luca followed, taking a step forward. “You may push me away, Charlotte, but I am not going anywhere.”
“I wish you would.”
Luca merely smiled, as if he were privy to a secret. “I know you would rather fall on your sword than be vulnerable. But I promise I won’t ever hurt you.”
She stiffened. How easily did he read her? How plainly did she wear her fears like a brooch for others to admire? “You make it sound so easy,” she said, forcing a steadiness into her voice she did not feel.
“It is easy, at least for me.”
She wanted, irrationally and fiercely, to believe him. But life had taught her differently. She had learned how to smile with one part of her while another part nursed the wounds. Better to be cautious, she told herself. Better to keep the mask.
“We shall see,” she said, then turned abruptly and hurried up the steps, leaving him on the porch.
Once inside, she let the door shut behind her and leaned her back against it. Luca had a knack to loosening the clasps of her defenses with a single look. It would be so simple—dangerously simple—to drift into believing him. If she allowed that, she knew, the eventual hurt would cut deeper for its surprise.
The entry hall smelled of him: not only of him, but of the pale roses and sprigs of lilac he’d had delivered earlier today. They filled the air with a sweetness that made her chest ache. Tears prickled at the rims of her eyes, but she blinked them back. No. She was not a woman to melt at a gentleman’s promise.
“Charlotte?” Jane’s voice floated from the corridor. “Is everything all right?”
Charlotte forced a smile to her lips. “Everything is perfect,” she attempted, hoping she sounded convincing enough.
“Have you been crying?” Jane pressed.
“Good heavens, no.” Charlotte forced a laugh. “I think I’m allergic to some of the flowers. They make my eyes water.”
Jane’s doubt lingered in the line of her mouth. “Did Lord Luca say or do something on your carriage ride that upset you?”
Before Charlotte could answer, Alistair’s voice boomed from further along the corridor. “I’ll kill him if he hurt Charlotte.”
A genuine smile tugged at Charlotte’s lips despite herself. She shook her head. “Lord Luca was the perfect gentleman, as always.” Her voice, though steady, carried an edge she couldn’t quite mask.
Alistair crossed to her and set his hands on her shoulders with the solemnity of a man who could stride into battle at a sentence. “Say the word and I will challenge him to a duel.”
Charlotte snorted, more amused than she meant to be. “That is not necessary. If I wished to shoot him, I would do it myself.”
He huffed, unconvinced. “Unlikely, given your marksmanship?—”
