Page 68 of Unmasking the Diamond
He straightened slowly, scanning the room once more. No signs of a struggle beyond the ransacking. No hidden papers tucked under the bed. Whoever had done this had known exactly what they were looking for.
He had no desire to explain his presence here to the constables. It would lead to questions he couldn’t afford to answer. He took one last look at the bloodstained carpet and then turned on his heel, slipping out of the residence and closing the door softly behind him.
He arrived at his carriage and climbed in just as the elderly woman returned with a burly man who had all the looks of a constable—broad shoulders, heavy tread, and suspicion already darkening his gaze. The carriage lurched forward, merging into the congested London traffic.
The ride back to his townhouse felt interminable. The steady clip-clop of hooves, usually soothing, grated against his nerves. He tapped his fingers against his knee, frustration gnawing at him with every passing moment. He was one step behind, and he hated being behind. Every lead he followed dissolved like smoke between his fingers.
When the carriage finally pulled up to his townhouse, he didn’t wait for the footman. He stepped out and strode up the steps, his jaw set.
The moment he stepped through the door, Jude appeared from the corridor, his dark brows arching at Luca’s appearance.
“Why do you look like death?” Jude asked.
“I do not look that bad,” Luca muttered, yanking on his cravat.
Jude lifted a single brow higher. “I’m afraid you do. You will want to wash up before Lady Benson’s ball this evening.”
The last thing Luca wanted was to wade into a ballroom full of simpering guests and hollow laughter. “I am not going,” he said flatly.
“But you must,” Jude countered. “This is the first social event you will be attending with your betrothed, Miss Winslow.”
“I don’t even know if she will be in attendance,” Luca said, tugging off his gloves with more force than necessary.
Jude’s gaze sharpened. “Didn’t you just return from a carriage ride with her?”
“Yes,” Luca admitted, “but we didn’t discuss our plans for this evening.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jude pressed, “Then what didyou discuss?”
“The weather,” Luca replied.
Jude’s mouth twitched, though he pressed it into a firm line. “Fine. Do not tell me. But I have it on good authority that Miss Winslow will be attending with her brother this evening.”
Luca hated to admit it, but Jude had a point. As much as he wanted to retreat to his study, bury himself in the ledger, and ignore Society altogether, he couldn’t. If Charlotte was attending Lady Benson’s ball, then he needed to be there—by her side. It wasn’t merely a matter of propriety. It was his responsibility as her fiancé.
“I will go,” he muttered, the words tasting more like resignation than enthusiasm.
Jude’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Good choice,” he said lightly, though there was a glint of knowing in his eyes. “Is something troubling you?”
Luca gave a half-shrug. “No more than usual.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
Luca turned towards the grand staircase, eager to end the conversation. “I know,” he admitted over his shoulder, “but it’s best that you don’t know.”
Jude’s exasperated sigh followed him up the stairs like a chastising echo. “You have become much more secretive since you acquired those newssheets of yours,” he called after his brother.
“It is the nature of my work,” Luca replied, not bothering to turn around. His voice was even, but inside, a pang of guilt pricked at him.
He hated keeping secrets from his brother. Jude had always been his confidant, the one person who’d stood by him through their mother’s death. But the world Luca inhabited now—the investigations, the dangerous truths—was not one he wanted Jude entangled in.
It was safer this way. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
12
Dressed in a rich, deep-blue ballgown embroidered with delicate silver flowers, Charlotte descended the grand staircase with measured grace. Each step felt heavier than the last. The gown shimmered under the chandelier’s light, her diamond-encrusted bandeau catching the glow and scattering it across the marble floor below. Outwardly, she looked every bit the serene, genteel young lady. But inwardly, her stomach twisted itself into knots.
Tonight would not be like the other evenings of the Season. She was no longer just the diamond to be admired or envied; she was the betrothed of Lord Luca Dexter. Every whisper, every glance would weigh her, measure her, and speculate about her match. The idea of pretending to be a doting fiancée made her want to laugh—and perhaps cry. Still, she reminded herself, she had spent her entire life performing for Society. This was merely another act upon the same stage.
