Page 33 of Unmasking the Diamond
He pressed a hand to his chest. “That wounds me here. In my heart.”
“You will live,” she retorted.
Lord Pendryn’s lips curved in what might have been his first true smile of the evening. “Well played, Miss Winslow. I do not believe I have ever seen my brother so unsettled.”
“It is the least I could do, since he insists on teasing me relentlessly,” Charlotte replied.
Lord Luca leaned closer to her and whispered, “It is refreshing to know that you do have a sense of humor, after all.”
Charlotte narrowed her gaze. “I have a delightful sense of humor. I simply choose not to waste it on you.”
“Pity,” he murmured.
Ignoring him, she turned to Lord Pendryn. “Tell me, my lord—how have you not banished your brother to a shed in Scotland?”
Lord Pendryn chuckled. “Tempting though the idea may be, my father is rather fond of him. I cannot fathom why.”
“Because people love me,” Luca declared with a wink. “Especially the ladies.”
“Well, not this lady. And kindly refrain from winking at me,” Charlotte replied.
He adopted an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “Did I wink? I must have had something in my eye.”
She nearly groaned aloud. Of course he would twist her rebuke into something absurd. Just as she was about to tell him she had endured quite enough of his antics, Jane’s voice cut in smoothly, rescuing her from saying something unladylike.
“Has anyone read anything of note lately?” Jane asked.
Charlotte seized upon the change of topic like a lifeline. “I finished readingA Vindication of the Rights of Womanby Mary Wollstonecraft,” she said, unable to keep a touch of pride from her voice.
“What a delightful read,” Jane said. “Her book suggests that women could—and should—think for themselves.”
“Yes, but many equated her calls for equality with republicanism, revolution, and chaos,” Lord Luca observed, his tone more serious than she expected.
“What are men so afraid of? After all, what harm could come from a woman using her voice?” Charlotte asked.
His gaze flicked to hers, surprisingly intent. “I see no harm in it. Quite frankly, I find women who voice their opinions to be utterly fascinating.”
The admission unsettled her. She had expected mockery, not sincerity.
Lord Luca leaned back slightly and continued. “I remember from a young age, my mother used to host teas where ladies gathered to debate their latest reads.”
“How very progressive of your mother,” Jane acknowledged.
“It was,” Luca agreed. “She loved nothing more than a lively debate.”
Lord Pendryn nodded. “It is true. She insisted we listen to both sides of an argument before coming to our own conclusion. I will admit, it made dinner rather more spirited than most families enjoyed.”
Charlotte found herself smiling despite her determination not to. “I would have liked to meet your mother.”
Luca’s gaze caught hers and held it. “She would have liked you.”
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“Because I like you,” he said simply.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and Charlotte ducked her head quickly, pretending to be absorbed by the soup the footman had just placed before her. Traitorous blush. They were only words, surely meant to tease her as always. And yet, why did they strike so deeply? Why did they feel—dangerously—like truth?
It was growing late, the candles burning low as Luca studied the cards in his hand. Whist had never been his favorite game, but tonight it felt particularly endless. His focus was not on the game but on the woman seated across from him. Miss Winslow’s dark lashes lowered as she fanned her cards, her expression composed, aloof. Ever since he had been foolish enough to confess that he liked her, she had treated him witha polite distance. He cursed himself for blurting it out. What had possessed him? He was usually far more calculated than that, but around her, his tongue seemed to outpace his better judgment.
