Page 91 of Unmasking the Diamond
Jude’s arms fell to his sides, his expression softening. “How I envy you, Brother.”
“You envy me?”
“Yes,” Jude said, moving towards the window. “You have followed your passions—purchased the newssheets, built something of your own—and now you are on the verge of marrying the woman you love.”
“I did not say I loved her,” Luca countered, though his tone lacked conviction.
Jude’s mouth curved in a knowing way. “You smile whenever you speak her name. That is enough.”
Luca exhaled slowly. “I am not yet certain what I feel. It is… confusing.”
“Love often is,” Jude murmured. He stared out into the darkening street below. “I wish I possessed your courage.”
“My courage?” Luca asked, puzzled. “To run the newssheets?”
“Perhaps. Or simply to choose something for yourself.” Jude’s voice had grown quieter, heavy with something unspoken. “I have done nothing of note.”
Luca reached for his black jacket and shrugged it on. “You are the heir to a dukedom, Jude. You will accomplish more than most men could dream of.”
“But what if I were not?” his brother asked. “If I were merely a second son—or no son of a duke at all—what would I be? A solicitor, perhaps?”
“Does it truly matter?”
Jude rested a hand upon the windowsill, his shoulders rigid. “I suppose not,” he said, though his voice carried an ache that unsettled Luca.
Luca moved closer. “What is stopping you from pursuing something you enjoy?”
“Father, for one,” Jude said bitterly. “And the title. There are expectations, duties. I have no liberty to wander as you do.”
“Forget the title for a moment,” Luca urged. “What would you do, if you could choose freely?”
Jude hesitated, then said quietly, “I would travel. See the world beyond these blasted social events and endless obligations.”
“Then do it.”
His brother gave a humorless laugh. “And what, pray tell, would Father say?”
“Explain to him?—”
“No,” Jude interrupted sharply. “This is my lot in life, and I must bear it with dignity.”
Luca studied him. “Are you miserable?”
Something flickered in Jude’s eyes—pain, perhaps, or a sorrow long buried—but it vanished as swiftly as it came.
“You should go,” Jude said, straightening from the window. “You will not wish to keep Miss Winslow waiting.”
“I would rather continue this conversation.”
“There is nothing more to say,” Jude replied. “Talking will not change the truth.”
“Then change the truth,” Luca countered.
Jude laid a hand on Luca’s shoulder. “Not everyone is as fortunate as you, Brother.”
“Some would argue that you are the fortunate one,” Luca insisted. “You are the heir.”
“Yes, well,” Jude murmured, withdrawing his hand, “they would be wrong.” He turned towards the door. “Come, I shall see you out.”
