Page 103 of Unmasking the Diamond
The words hit Luca like a blow. “I should never have dragged her into all of this,” he murmured.
“It sounds like she was a willing participant,” Alcott said with a touch of weary resignation. “Charlotte isn’t one to do something she doesn’t want to do.”
A faint, pained smile crossed Luca’s lips. “No. She’s not.”
For a moment, silence hung between them. The air was heavy with unspoken fears.
Then Alcott spoke again, his voice softer. “I know you care for Charlotte?—”
“I don’t just care,” Luca interrupted, his voice breaking with emotion. “I love her.”
The admission left him breathless. He had known it, deep down, but speaking the words aloud made the truth feel dangerously real.
A smirk tugged at Alcott’s mouth. “There you go. It’s about time you recognized that. A little late, if you ask me.”
Luca stared back at his friend. “You knew?”
“I did—from the moment you two announced your engagement.”
Luca huffed a laugh that held no humor. “Then I suppose I just need to convince your sister to marry me.”
Alcott sobered. “First we must find her.”
The fleeting levity vanished as dread reclaimed its hold. Luca’s chest constricted. “Yes,” he said quietly. “And I am at a loss as to where to start.”
A voice from the doorway cut through the tension. “I have an idea for that.”
Both men turned. Hillstead strolled into the room with his usual smug self-assurance, a small smile playing on his lips.
“When I learned about the Duke of Brackenford and Mr. Dawlish,” Hillstead began, “I had a feeling something was amiss between the two of them.” He tipped his head politely. “My lord,” he added to Alcott.
Alcott inclined his head in acknowledgment, though impatience flickered in his gaze. “Do not keep us waiting. What did you discover?”
“Well, I went to the probate court and requested to see the Duke of Brackenford’s will on file,” Hillstead said, his tone dripping with pride.
“And they just handed it over to you?” Luca asked, incredulous.
Hillstead chuckled. “Hardly. They threatened to call the constable on me.”
Alcott’s voice darkened. “How does this help us?”
“Because,” Hillstead said, looking insufferably pleased with himself, “I bribed one of the clerks to slip the will to me for a few minutes. Cost me fifty pounds, by the by—so you owe me.”
“Fifty pounds?” Luca repeated. “That is an exorbitant sum.”
Hillstead waved a dismissive hand. “I assure you that it is worth every shilling. The information was invaluable. Upon the Duke of Brackenford’s death, Mr. Dawlish is to inherit the Ravenhurst Trading Company and all its subsidiaries.”
Luca’s pulse quickened. “The Duke of Brackenford is the owner of Ravenhurst?”
“Yes,” Hillstead confirmed with relish. “But do you want to know why Dawlish inherits it?”
“Tell me,” Luca demanded.
“Because,” Hillstead said, clearly savoring the moment, “Mr. Dawlish is the duke’s illegitimate son. Hisonlyson, in fact. The rest of the duke’s estate will go to a distant cousin, along with the title.”
“Blazes,” Luca muttered. “The will stated that outright?”
“It did,” Hillstead confirmed.
