Page 37 of Unmasking the Diamond
“Good morning,” she greeted, settling into her place at his right.
He lowered the newssheets, eyes sliding towards the long clock in the corner, then back to her with deliberate exaggeration. “Do you realize what time it is?”
“I do,” she replied, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
“And yet you are awake?” He arched a brow, his lips curving. “Well, I do suppose that hell has frozen over.”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “You are making a big ado over nothing.”
“I cannot recall the last time I saw you before eleven o’clock in the morning,” he mused, setting the newssheets down. “Did something happen?”
Charlotte reached for her napkin with studied nonchalance. “Are you always so infuriating in the mornings?”
“Actually, yes,” he said with far too much satisfaction. “You would know, if you ever joined us before noon.”
A footman stepped forward with a cup of chocolate. Charlotte murmured her thanks, wrapping her hands around the cup. The warmth soothed her nerves even as her brother continued to watch her.
“It is of little wonder I prefer my tray upstairs,” she remarked.
Alistair leaned back in his chair, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, now that you’ve graced us with your presence, I have a few questions.”
“Oh, wonderful,” she muttered under her breath. “More questions.”
His smile was faint but knowing. “Is Lord Luca your suitor?”
The cup nearly slipped from her grasp. She blinked once. Then again. “Heavens, no!” she exclaimed, her voice perhaps louder than was ladylike. “He and I are merely…” She faltered. What were they, exactly? They were definitely not friends. Something in between, an arrangement of convenience bound by secrets neither of them admitted aloud.
Alistair gave her a steady look. “Then explain last night.”
“What about last night?” she asked carefully.
“You took a turn about the room with Lord Luca,” Alistair replied. “The two of you seemed rather… familiar.”
“I daresay that you need spectacles, Brother.”
“I see,” he murmured, studying her expression. “You do not wish to tell me, then.”
“There is nothing to tell,” she insisted. “Lord Luca is not my suitor and never will be.”
Alistair folded his arms with deliberate ease. “Are you not taking a carriage ride with him this morning?”
Charlotte lifted a hand to forestall his conclusions. “I know how it appears, but it is nothing more than a carriage ride.”
“Very well,” Alistair said, reaching once more for the newssheets.
“Is that all?”
He nodded. “It is evident you do not wish to confide in me, so there is no sense in pressing you further.”
“Thank you,” she said, reaching for her fork and knife.
For several minutes, the only sounds were the clink of cutlery and the rustle of paper. But the silence soon became intolerable. Charlotte set down her fork and knife, her thoughts gathering courage. If she could not test her questions on her own brother, how would she fare against a solicitor?
“What do you think of women writers?” she inquired.
The newssheets stilled. “Why do you ask?” Alistair inquired, peering over the edge.
“Merely curiosity.”
