Page 19 of Unmasking the Diamond
“We?” she repeated, her eyes narrowing, though not entirely with suspicion. There was a flicker of intrigue there, the kind that told him he had struck the right chord.
With a knowing look, he replied, “You wanted to write more serious articles, did you not? Well, here is your chance… with me.” The words lingered in the air, heavier than he intended. A partnership. Dangerous, perhaps, but exhilarating, too.
The coach slowed, then rolled to a stop before her townhouse. Luca shifted, his chest tightening with an odd reluctance. He was not ready for the conversation to end, notwhen he had managed to draw her interest. Rising, he stepped down onto the pavement and turned back, extending his hand towards her.
She placed her gloved fingers lightly in his palm, and he steadied her as she descended the step. “Will you do it?” he asked in a hushed voice.
Her eyes met his. “I will.”
A rush of satisfaction swept through him. He inclined his head in approval, masking the triumph he felt at securing her promise. “I will call upon you later today,” he murmured, and before he could think better of it, he brought her hand to his lips. The brush was fleeting, deliberate, calculated—yet there was no denying the jolt that shot through him at the contact.
“Until then, Diamond,” he said.
As he released her hand, he caught the faintest flicker of color in her cheeks. That, he thought with no small amount of satisfaction, was a victory all its own.
4
As Charlotte stepped into her townhouse, she was keenly aware of the lingering warmth in her hand from where Lord Luca’s lips had brushed against her gloves. She curled her fingers into her palm as if that might erase the sensation, but it only made her all the more conscious of it. Her cheeks burned traitorously, and she hated herself for it. Why should one kiss upon her hand—no matter how gallant or practiced—have left her so undone? He was insufferable, arrogant, maddening. So why was she blushing?
She drew in a deep breath as she crossed the threshold into the entry hall. Home. Blessedly home. Away from Lord Luca, away from his too-knowing smirk and infuriatingly confident gaze. And yet his words echoed in her mind like an unwelcome guest. Did he truly intend to pursue justice for the duke’s wronged wives?
Her musings were interrupted by a familiar voice.
“You are back already?”
Charlotte turned her head and found Jane in the drawing room doorway, her expression curious. “I am.”
Jane gestured her closer. “Come, I want to hear all about it.”
Reluctantly, Charlotte obeyed, and went to sink down onto the settee beside her sister-in-law with a dramatic huff. “It was awful. Truly awful,” she declared. “A wheel broke on Lord Welker’s carriage, and I was forced—forced, mind you—to accept a ride home with Lord Luca.”
Jane’s brows arched with amusement. “Perhaps you should start from the beginning.”
Leaning back, Charlotte raised her hand to her forehead in theatrical despair. “Lord Welker asked me if I liked weather. Weather, Jane. What does one even say to such a thing? It is like asking if someone enjoys breathing.”
Jane’s laugh rang out. “He was most likely nervous and spoke the first thing that came into his head.”
“He should have tried harder,” Charlotte sniffed.
“Well, do you like weather?” Jane teased.
Charlotte groaned. “He also vowed to give me the moon if I granted him a waltz. It was utter nonsense.”
“Perhaps he was trying to be charming.”
“Then he failed miserably. And to make matters worse, when the wheel broke, he berated his poor driver for all to hear. A crowd gathered, and who should appear but Lord Luca. I could practically see the smugness radiating from every inch of him.”
Jane’s eyes twinkled. “Wasn’t it fortunate he arrived when he did?”
“Perhaps. But must he look so very self-satisfied?” Charlotte flung up her hands. “Why do bad things happen to good people?”
“I daresay you exaggerate,” Jane said. “All ended well enough.”
Charlotte sat up straighter, indignant. “Ended well? I had to endure a carriage ride with Lord Luca, and he insists upon calling me ‘Diamond’ as though it were my given name. If he persists, I shall be forced to punch his handsome face.”
“His handsome face?” Jane repeated. “Do you think Lord Luca is handsome?”
Mortification prickled Charlotte’s skin. Blast her careless tongue! “It matters not whether he is handsome,” she responded. “He is impossible. A thorn in my side.”
