Page 96 of Unmasking the Diamond
Sally gave a faint, skeptical hum but wisely said nothing more.
Charlotte turned away from the looking glass, pretending to adjust her gloves though her thoughts remained fixed on the man she was supposed to forget. Luca Dexter had entered her life like a storm—uninvited, inconvenient, and impossible to ignore.
And despite every sensible reason to end things swiftly, Charlotte feared she might already be too far gone to escape unscathed.
Charlotte discovered the walls of her bedchamber suddenly felt too close, too confining. “I should go,” she murmured, already moving towards the door.
“What about your breakfast tray?”
“I find that I have lost my appetite,” Charlotte said briskly, not daring to look back. She grasped the doorknob and slipped into the corridor before her maid could protest further.
The house was unusually quiet, sunlight spilling in from the tall windows that lined the stairwell. The hush only made her thoughts louder. Her mind raced with doubts she couldn’t bear to examine too closely—about Luca, about the sham of their engagement, about the feelings she refused to name.
As she descended the grand staircase, movement near the entry caught her eye. Martha stood there, wringing her hands in the most nervous manner imaginable.
Charlotte’s pace slowed. “Martha? Is something wrong?”
The housemaid startled at being addressed and immediately dropped into a quick curtsy. “Oh, Miss Winslow. I—no, not wrong, exactly. I have something for you.”
Charlotte’s curiosity was piqued. “Something for me?”
Martha nodded, glancing about as though afraid someone might overhear. “I debated about giving it to you, but…”
“But what?” Charlotte prompted gently.
Martha hesitated another moment before reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out a small, folded slip of paper. She offered it with obvious reluctance.
Taking it, Charlotte unfolded the note and read the short, scrawled message.Meet me in the back of your gardens. I have something important to discuss with you.
It was signed simply—Luca.
Her heart gave an involuntary flutter. She lowered the paper. “When was this delivered?”
“Just a short time ago,” Martha replied. “Lord Luca found me in the courtyard while I was pinning up the laundry. He said it was most urgent, and he didn’t want to have any prying ears about. He was quite adamant about that, Miss.”
Charlotte’s gaze shifted instinctively towards the back of the townhouse. “I see.” She folded the note and held it tightly between her fingers. She found it rather odd that Luca was being so secretive about this meeting, but he must have had his reasons. She would hear him out. “Yes. I do believe I will meet him.”
Martha’s brow furrowed. “Do you think that is wise, Miss?”
“It will be perfectly fine,” Charlotte assured her, forcing a calm she did not entirely feel. “Lord Luca merely wishes to speak privately. I shall return before anyone notices I am gone.”
Martha still looked uneasy. “Would you like me to accompany you for propriety’s sake?”
Charlotte shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”
Clutching the note, she turned down the corridor. The polished floors gleamed beneath her slippers as she crossed the entry hall and stepped outside. A footman stationed near the door followed her onto the veranda, bowing slightly before taking up his post to watch her walk down the gardens’ path.
The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of roses and damp earth. Charlotte breathed it in, grateful for the fresh air and the solitude. The gravel crunched softly beneath her feet as she wound through the manicured hedges, following the familiar path towards the rear of the gardens where the tall birch trees formed a secluded screen.
When she reached the back gate, she paused. No one was there.
Her pulse quickened. She looked around, scanning the shaded alcoves and the line of trees. “Luca?” she called softly. No answer.
A flicker of unease rippled through her.Nonsense, she told herself. He was likely being cautious, waiting until he wascertain her brother’s servants weren’t watching. That would be just like him—always careful, always thinking two steps ahead.
The breeze rustled through the birch leaves, whispering faintly. She turned her head, straining to listen?—
A sharpcrackechoed behind her.
