Page 48 of Unmasking the Diamond
For the briefest instant, something unguarded flickered across Jude’s eyes—pain, so sharp and fleeting that Luca almost doubted it had been there at all.
Jude withdrew his hand. “Enjoy your dinner with Miss Winslow. I will be eating at the club.”
“Not with Father?”
“No. He is still at Parliament.”
“He works too hard.”
“That he does,” Jude agreed, though his voice carried a note of pride. “But he is trying to make a difference. I hope one day I will be half the man Father is.”
Luca gave his brother a pointed look. “You already are.”
Jude looked away, unable—or unwilling—to meet his gaze. “Thank you. But I still have much to learn.”
“Don’t we all?”
Jude moved towards the door. “Come, I will walk you out.”
They descended the corridor together, their footsteps echoing off the paneled walls. Silence stretched between them, heavy, laden with words unsaid. Luca stole a glance at his brother. The proud set of Jude’s shoulders looked burdened, bowed under responsibilities that even Luca could not name.
At the entry hall, Luca halted and turned. “What troubles you?”
Jude’s reply was quiet but steady. “Life troubles me.”
“I cannot help you with that.”
Jude’s lips twitched in something that might have been humor, but lacked the warmth. “You are always trying to fix things, but some things cannot be fixed. They are too irrefutably broken.”
“You are not one of those things,” Luca asserted.
Jude’s expression grew unreadable. “We shall see.” And with that, he turned down a side corridor, leaving Luca in the vast, echoing hall.
Luca watched him go, unease coiling in his chest. His brother carried secrets, burdens, and perhaps wounds that no one else could see. And he had no idea how to mend them.
Before Luca could slip away, the main door opened. His father filled the threshold, tall and immovable as ever.
“Good, you are still here,” his father said. “A word, please.”
It was no request. It never was. Luca inclined his head and followed without protest, though a coil of tension settled between his shoulders.
The study smelled faintly of tobacco and old leather, the fire banked low in the hearth. His father crossed to the drink cart and lifted the decanter. Crystal clinked softly as amber liquid poured into a glass.
“Are you truly engaged?” his father asked, not looking up as he poured.
“I am,” Luca answered, bracing himself.
“Hmmm.” The sound carried censure, as did the tightening of his father’s jaw. “And why was I the last to hear of this?”
“It was… unexpected. It sort of just happened.”
His father turned, glass in hand, and fixed him with a stare that could have stripped the bravado from any man. “You offered for Miss Winslow on a whim?”
“I did it to protect her,” Luca revealed. “The Duke of Brackenford was pressing his suit.”
Taking a slow sip, his father considered him over the rim. “A noble reason, but unwise. Do you even love Miss Winslow?”
Luca shrugged. “I don’t dislike her.”
