Page 13 of Unmasking the Diamond
One way or another, he would win her over.
3
Charlotte strode towards the townhouse with her head held high, her steps brisk, and her back rigid. She would not—absolutely would not—turn back to see if Lord Luca lingered behind her. To look would be to reveal how unsettled she truly felt, and she could not afford to appear ruffled.
But beneath the polished disguise, her stomach churned. Drat. He knew. Her secret—so carefully guarded—was a fragile glass, one crack away from shattering. The fewer people who knew, the safer she was. And yet Luca had offered her the one thing she wanted most: freedom to write articles that mattered. Her heart whispered that she might trust him, but what did her heart know of safety? Her heart was not to be trusted.
She stepped into the entry hall and immediately spotted Jane. Her sister-in-law’s eyes lit with quiet curiosity, her lips parting as if she had been waiting just for Charlotte.
“What did Lord Luca wish to discuss with you?” Jane asked.
Charlotte hesitated, lowering her voice so that no servants could overhear. “He wanted me to write for his newssheets.”
Jane blinked, visibly startled. “What did you say?”
“I am considering it,” Charlotte admitted, almost grudgingly. “But only because he might allow me to write more serious articles—essays about poverty, corruption, matters that truly affect lives. Not only what silk Lady Brighton wore to Almack’s.” Her gaze flicked over Jane’s face, worried. “I know this may put you in a bind since your uncle works forThe Morning Post.”
Jane waved a hand in front of her. “My uncle disowned me, right alongside the rest of my family when I refused the duke.”
“Have any of them come around?”
For the briefest of moments, Jane’s eyes shone with grief before she shuttered it. “No. But I have my aunt. She will never abandon me.”
“She also made you her heir,” Charlotte pointed out, though she knew inheritance was a poor balm for a broken family.
“Yes,” Jane agreed. “But her presence is worth infinitely more than her fortune.”
Charlotte nodded, though her throat tightened. “I understand. My father showered me with money but never affection. He never looked at me without resentment—resentment for the wife he lost giving birth to me.”
“Your father was wrong,” Jane said firmly.
“Perhaps,” Charlotte murmured, bitterness curling in her chest. “But it changes nothing. He is gone now, and in all his years he may have spoken a dozen words to me. I doubt I deserved more.”
Jane laid a gentle hand on Charlotte’s sleeve. “You deserved far better.”
Charlotte stiffened at the worddeserve. Did she? Her mother had died because of her—because she had drawn her first breath. That stain could never be erased. The guilt was hers to carry, whether others believed it or not.
Before the heaviness could suffocate her, a sharp rap echoed through the hall.
Malone appeared at once, gliding towards the door. When it swung open, Charlotte nearly groaned aloud. Lord Welker entered with a flourish, bowing so deeply he looked as though he might topple over.
“Miss Winslow. Lady Alcott.”
Charlotte summoned her brightest smile, dipping into a flawless curtsy. “Lord Welker. What a delightful surprise,” she said, hoping her words didn’t sound as hollow as they felt.
“I hope it is not a surprise,” he replied with an eager grin. “For I have come to escort you on a carriage ride through Hyde Park.”
“I thought we were to go during the fashionable hour.”
“I could not wait another moment to see you,” he declared, puffing up with boyish pride.
Of course you could not.Charlotte’s smile never wavered, though inwardly she longed for escape. She was the Season’s diamond, and diamonds did not complain. “Allow me to fetch my bonnet.”
She ascended the staircase with unhurried grace, though every step was an exercise in restraint. In truth, she wanted to run—not upstairs, but out the back door and into anonymity.
In her chamber, Sally was busy tidying the dressing table. “Lord Welker has arrived,” Charlotte announced.
Sally glanced at the clock on the mantel, her brows rising. “Already?”
