Page 106 of Unmasking the Diamond
Charlotte froze. That was the name of the late Duchess of Brackenford. Surely it couldn’t be the same woman. But if it was… that meant this truly was The Chelmsford Asylum. A chill swept through her. The duchess had died years ago, and it wasblamed on influenza. Had she spent her last few days, hours, in this dreary cell?
It made a dreadful sort of sense. Women were sent here to disappear, to die quietly so their families could move on without scandal.
Turning towards the dividing wall that separated her from Lydia’s cell, Charlotte pressed her palm against the cold surface. “Are you there?”
A small laugh echoed through the stone. “And where, pray tell, would I go? On holiday?”
“How did you end up here?” Charlotte asked.
“I told you—I woke up here…”
“Did your husband send you here?” Charlotte pressed, the question tumbling out before she could stop it.
“My husband?” Lydia repeated, confusion in her voice. “What would he have to do with this? And where ishere, exactly?”
“I believe we’re at The Chelmsford Asylum,” Charlotte said.
“An asylum?” Lydia’s disbelief was sharp. “For what purpose? Neither of us is mad.”
Charlotte nodded to herself. “It doesn’t matter. I think this place is for women whom others wish forgotten. No one comes out alive.”
“That is monstrous.”
Following a sudden hunch, Charlotte asked, “What is your full name?”
After a pause, the answer came with a sigh. “Lydia—Lady Matthew.”
Charlotte’s breath caught.Lady Matthew.They had been searching for her. “You are Lady Matthew,” she rushed out. “We’ve been trying to find you.”
“Find me?” Lydia’s tone was incredulous. “How could you possibly help me?”
“Your husband sent you here,” Charlotte explained. “And he’s been carrying on with your daughter’s governess.”
Lydia gasped. “No. Thomas wouldn’t… he couldn’t…”
Charlotte could see her through a crack in the wall—her eyes wide, her hands trembling. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. The late Duchess of Brackenford and Lady Coldwyck suffered the same fate.”
Before another word could pass between them, the heavy bolt of the iron door screeched open. Charlotte flinched at the sound. A tall man stepped inside, his build thick and his thinning black hair streaked with white.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
Charlotte obeyed, rising slowly and backing up until her shoulders pressed against the wall.
“Who did you tell about Lady Matthew?” he barked.
Her pulse hammered in her throat. “No one,” she said, lying as evenly as she could.
He crossed the space in two strides and loomed over her. “Tell me the truth, and I won’t have to hurt you.”
“I told no one,” she repeated, her voice steadier than she felt.
In the next instant, his hand shot out and clamped around her neck. Charlotte gasped as his foul breath filled her senses.
“Try again, Miss Winslow.”
Pain flared, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
His grip tightened. “Not even your precious Lord Luca?”
