Page 93 of Unmasking the Diamond
“Do I need one?” she countered.
“No,” he murmured, still holding her hand. “I find I rather like this truce we seem to have found.”
“I wouldn’t grow too accustomed to it,” she teased.
He chuckled and reluctantly lowered her hand. His gaze flicked towards the door, mindful that Lord and Lady Alcott might arrive at any moment. “Before your brother and his wife come down, there’s something I wished to discuss.”
Her brows rose with curiosity. “You make it sound terribly serious.”
“It is,” he admitted. “I visited Miss Dawlish’s son earlier today at the factory he manages by the docks.”
Her expression sharpened. “And?”
“He told me nothing of worth,” Luca said, frustration edging his tone. “But one of his guards mentioned something peculiar—that Miss Dawlish had visited her son and warned him against invoking the wrath of the Duke of Brackenford.”
Charlotte’s brow furrowed. “The Duke of Brackenford? How does he tie into Miss Dawlish?”
“I don’t yet know,” Luca said. “But I intend to find out. There’s a connection there. I can feel it.”
“What can I do to help?”
A smile curved his lips. “I’m not quite certain yet. But when the truth is uncovered—when all of this is done—I want you to help me write the article.”
Her eyes widened. “Me?”
“Of course.” His smile deepened. “I don’t know why you sound surprised. You are a very talented writer.”
Her breath caught, and for a fleeting moment, he saw it again—the woman behind the mask. The one who wanted to be seen, and trusted him enough to let him.
“Thank you,” she said.
Two simple words—but the way she spoke them carried far more weight than mere politeness. Gratitude. Trust. Something unspoken that made his heart stutter in his chest.
Their eyes met and held. For the briefest of moments, Luca wondered how it would feel to close the distance. To tilt her chin, to press his lips to hers. Would she allow it? Or was that merely his own foolish hope weaving dreams where none existed?
“Luca…” she whispered, her gaze flickering down to his mouth.
That was all the invitation he needed. He leaned in, his heart hammering wildly.
A sharp clearing of a throat shattered the spell.
Luca froze, every nerve snapping to attention. He stepped back, creating more distance between them, and turned towards the sound.
Standing just beyond the doorway were Lord and Lady Alcott. In a dry voice, Alcott announced, “Dinner is ready to be served.”
Luca tugged down on his waistcoat in a futile attempt to appear composed. “Yes. Very good. Thank you.” His voice sounded unsteady even to his own ears.
He turned towards Charlotte, meaning to offer his arm, but Alcott spoke again before he could. “I daresay my sister does not require an escort to the dining room.” He gestured grandly towards the corridor. “After you two.”
Charlotte let out a huff, her cheeks still tinged with color. “You are being ridiculous, Brother.”
“I think not,” Alcott replied. “Jane and I will follow behind to ensure you both behave.”
Luca inclined his head and did as instructed, falling into step beside Charlotte as they walked towards the dining room. He dared a sideways glance at her. Her lips were still slightly parted, her lashes low as if she were trying to gather her composure.
He couldn’t blame Alcott for his intrusion. If his friend hadn’t appeared at that precise moment, Luca would have kissed her—without thought, without hesitation, and damn the consequences.
And heaven help him… he didn’t regret it. Not one bit.
