Page 11 of Unmasking the Diamond
She took a step closer, her presence fierce despite her delicate frame. “Have you ever been told what to think or feel?”
“No,” he admitted, the single word feeling suddenly weighty.
Tilting her chin, she replied, “Women are expected to behave a certain way or else we are branded ‘difficult.’ We can be ruined for the slightest infraction. Imagine your entire life altered because of one careless remark or a dance with the wrong gentleman.”
“I cannot imagine. But you are the diamond of the Season.”
“Do you think that makes it easier?” Her voice sharpened, laced with an ache he had not expected. “Everyone watches me, studies me, waits for me to fail.”
He arched a brow, trying to mask the strange sympathy welling within. “You look as if you enjoy the attention.”
“I don’t,” she countered swiftly, “but it is a necessary evil. The more I attend these events, the more gossip I gather for my articles.”
“Then why do it at all?” he asked. “You clearly do not need the money.”
She hesitated, her silence more telling than words. At last, she said, “Because you look at me and see only a woman. I want to do more than what is expected of me. If I must write a thousand columns of gossip to finally be permitted one article of substance, then so be it.”
Her conviction struck him like a blow. Luca felt a flicker of admiration kindle into something else—an idea. “What if I hired you with the promise that you could write those more serious articles?”
She huffed a laugh, short and bitter. “I have heard such promises before, my lord.”
“Just hear me out,” Luca said, keeping his tone even.
Miss Winslow arched one perfect brow, her lips twitching with impatience. “Very well. I am listening.”
Luca pressed forward, his words deliberate. “For every article you—or should I sayMr. Fairchild—writes for the Society page, you can also submit a more serious article, and I will consider it for publication.”
Her expression did not flicker, save for the faint narrowing of her eyes. She looked thoroughly unimpressed. “How is that any different than whatThe Morning Posthas already offered me?”
“Because…” He leaned forward slightly. “I give you my word I will truly consider it.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Even if I considered this, it would never work. We can hardly be in the same room without fighting. I find you to be arrogant and vexing.”
“And I find you to be spoiled, obstinate, and entirely too opinionated.” His lips curved faintly, though his tone was utterly serious. “But I would do anything to makeThe London Gazettethe most read newssheets in London, if not in all of England.”
Her lips parted, just enough to betray the smallest trace of surprise. “Those are lofty ambitions.”
“Yes,” he agreed at once, “but that means I need the most talented writers around me. And that includes you, Miss Winslow.”
Something in her eyes shifted, though she tried to disguise it by dropping her arms. A pause, and then she said, “I have a counterproposal for you.”
“Go on,” he said. “I’m listening.”
“If—and I meanif—I choose to write for you, then for every five gossip articles I write, you will publish an article of a more serious nature.”
Luca watched her, noting the defiant lift of her chin, the way she was daring him to refuse. “I want to keepMr. Fairchildinthe Society pages, but I will consider your proposal, assuming you create a new pseudonym to write serious articles.”
She considered him for a long moment before nodding. “Then I shall consider your proposal, as well.”
A smile came to his lips, unbidden, unwilling. “Did we just agree on something, Diamond?”
She groaned softly, her sigh loud with exasperation. “Must you call me that?”
“I find it charming.”
“And I find you exasperating, and that is on a good day,” she retorted.
He stepped closer, amused to watch her chin tip upward to hold his gaze. “I think we would work well together.”
