Page 8 of Unmasking the Diamond
“I have a name.”
“And it is a lovely one,” Lord Luca said, unbothered. “But I much prefer ‘Diamond.’”
Her sigh was sharp and exasperated. “Why are you here, pestering me at such an ungodly hour? Surely there must be something—anything—more important you could be doing.”
“More important than you?” His green eyes gleamed. “Impossible.”
Charlotte’s hand tightened around her fork. For the briefest of moments, she contemplated stabbing him in the hand. But then she would be forced to request another fork, and breakfast would grow cold. Better to ignore him.
Unfortunately, Lord Luca had never been a man easily ignored.
Lord Luca shifted in his seat to face her. His eyes danced with mischief, as though he were about to say something calculated to irritate her. She braced herself.
“I find that my mood is brightened just by looking at your lovely face,” he said.
She pursed her lips. Really? Did he practice such absurdities before a looking glass? “Just eat your breakfast,” she muttered, stabbing at her eggs as though they were responsible for her vexation.
Alistair lowered the newssheets just long enough to cast her a brotherly look of censure. “You must forgive Charlotte. She is not one for mornings.”
Charlotte resisted the urge to throw her fork at him. Treachery, from her own brother. How could he be on Lord Luca’s side?
“I think she is being a delight,” Lord Luca remarked.
Charlotte dropped her gaze to the table. She was outnumbered. It was best to eat quickly and make her escape before she was further assaulted with nonsense. She lifted a bite of eggs to her mouth, willing herself to focus on food, not Luca Dexter’s smug expression.
But of course, he had other plans. “Would you care to take a carriage ride through Hyde Park with me?”
She swallowed and answered curtly. “No.”
His lips twitched, as if her refusal had been the precise response he anticipated. “Perhaps, then, a turn about your gardens?”
“No.” She reached for her chocolate.
“A turn about this very room?”
Her patience frayed. “No.”
Undeterred, he leaned closer, lowering his voice as though sharing some scandalous secret. “I promise it will be worth your time.”
Charlotte set down her cup with a deliberate clink. “I doubt that, for everything out of your mouth is drivel.”
Instead of looking wounded, he chuckled, that maddening sound that suggested he found her resistance entertaining. “I daresay you are playing coy.”
Her mouth fell open. “I am not playing a game with you.”
“So you say,” he replied, “but I can see you secretly like me.”
Charlotte shook her head in disbelief. “Then you are in desperate need of spectacles.”
Lord Luca leaned just enough to brush his shoulder against hers, the audacity of the gesture making her skin prickle. “Give me ten minutes of your time.”
She turned to glare at him. “And why would I do that?”
“Because,” he started, “I promise you will want to hear what I have to say.”
Charlotte considered telling him no again, as she ought. But then she would have to endure him repeating the offer until he wore her down. Perhaps it was better to let him speak his piece and be rid of him.
“Fine,” she said at last, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “But I shall grant you five minutes, not ten.”
