Page 92 of Unmasking the Diamond
They walked down the corridor together, the silence between them heavy with words unsaid. Luca cast his brother a sidelong glance, concern gnawing at him. Jude’s shoulders were too stiff, his expression too still.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Jude muttered.
“Like what?”
“Like I am broken.”
“You are not broken,” Luca said firmly. “Only… searching.”
Jude gave a low hum of agreement—or perhaps resignation. “Perhaps I shall go to the country for a time,” he said as they reached the stairwell. “Review the estate ledgers. Take some air.”
“And abandon Town in the middle of the Season?”
“Father will disapprove, naturally,” Jude said, descending the stairs. “But I can manage the accounts there just as well as here.”
“Then you should go,” he encouraged.
Jude didn’t answer, and the silence that followed told Luca more than words ever could.
They reached the main door, and Jude turned towards him, his expression softened by the flickering light from the sconces. “I hope you are happy. You deserve it.”
Before Luca could respond, Jude pivoted on his heel and strode down the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor until the sound faded into silence. Luca remained where he stood, the words lingering in his mind long after his brother had gone. Jude’s tone had carried both sincerity and sorrow. It was a mixture that unsettled him. His brother was hurting, though he could not quite grasp how to help him.
With a quiet exhale, Luca stepped out into the crisp evening air. The chill brushed against his cheeks, sharpening his focus. He descended the steps and entered his waiting coach. As the horses started forward, the rhythmic clatter of hooves filled the quiet. The short journey to Charlotte’s townhouse gave him too much time to think—about Jude’s melancholy, about the strange turn his own life had taken. He had not meant to fall into this pretense of engagement… nor had he expected that the pretense would begin to feel so very real.
When the coach came to a stop before Charlotte’s residence, Luca stepped down before the footman could even lower the steps. The townhouse was warmly lit, golden light spilling from the tall windows and pooling across the stone steps. He took the stairs two at a time, eager to see her.
The door opened almost instantly, the butler stepping aside with a polished bow. “Good evening, Lord Luca.”
Luca handed off his gloves and hat and waited as the man moved to announce him. When his name was called, he straightened his shoulders and stepped inside.
Charlotte stood near the settee, her gown a soft shade of lavender that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. A delicate strand of pearls circled her throat. But what caught his attention most was the slight downturn of her mouth—the telltale sign that something weighed upon her.
“Miss Winslow,” he greeted, bowing slightly before crossing the room towards her. “Is something troubling you?”
“Nothing is wrong,” she murmured, still refusing to meet his gaze.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
After a brief hesitation, she lifted her chin. Her eyes met his—vulnerable. “Do you think me weak?”
Luca stilled, startled. “Weak? Good gads, no!” He took a step closer. “Why would you even think such a thing?”
She bit her lower lip, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because I cried before you earlier and spoke of things I never meant to share.”
Her words pierced him. He reached out, taking her gloved hand in his. “Charlotte,” he said, his voice steady, “I am grateful that you trusted me with your truth. You are not weak for feeling deeply, but rather you are brave for allowing me to see it.”
Her eyes searched his, glimmering with uncertainty. “Do you truly mean that?”
“With my whole heart,” he said, meaning every word.
A small, almost shy smile touched her lips, the tension easing from her shoulders. “I was afraid you might think me a simpering miss.”
He raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You are many things, Charlotte Winslow—formidable, clever, exasperating—but never a simpering miss.”
“You flatter me.”
His lips twitched into a grin. “No witty retort?”
