Page 52 of Unmasking the Diamond
“It was… uneventful.”
Her brother gave her a skeptical glance. “Lord Luca is a good man. You could do far worse.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together. If only Alistair knew how maddening the man could be. “We would not suit. I am sure of that,” she insisted.
Thankfully, Alistair chose not to press her further, and they soon reached the top of the grand staircase. Charlotte’s eyes,almost against her will, sought out Luca’s form below. He stood in the entry hall, deep in conversation with Jane, his posture relaxed yet assured.
She allowed herself a fleeting moment to study him unnoticed. He truly was handsome—there was no denying it—with his finely tailored blue jacket, buff trousers, and dark hair brushed forward in the fashionable style. But his appeal went beyond mere appearance. There was something in his presence that unsettled her, something that drew her in despite her better judgment. Around him, she felt… seen. Perhaps even safe. And that, more than anything, terrified her.
As if sensing her gaze, Luca turned his head. Their eyes met across the distance, and for the briefest of moments time seemed to pause. Something flickered in her chest, a spark of—affection? Attraction? Whatever it was, it was dangerous. She quickly tore her gaze away, scolding herself. She could not—would not—allow herself to feel anything for him.
When she reached the last step, Luca bowed. “Miss Winslow.”
“I do believe we are past standing on formality, considering you two are engaged,” Alistair interjected, before greeting his wife with a kiss on the cheek. “It is only a matter of time before this sham engagement is mentioned in the Society pages.”
“You know?” Luca asked.
Alistair slipped an arm around Jane’s waist. “Yes, and I hope you have a good plan to save my sister’s reputation.”
“I do have a plan,” Luca replied, though his tone lacked any hint of conviction.
Charlotte nearly groaned aloud. That was hardly reassuring.
Jane’s voice broke in. “Perhaps we should discuss this over dinner. We wouldn’t want the food to grow cold.”
“You are right,” Alistair agreed, guiding his wife towards the dining room.
Luca turned to Charlotte, offering his arm. “May I escort you?”
She placed her hand lightly on his sleeve, though her words were laced with dry humor. “You do realize I know where the dining room is, since it is my home.”
“I am attempting to be a gentleman,” he said, his lips curving in that insufferably confident way.
As they moved together down the corridor, Charlotte lowered her voice so only he could hear. “I wrote an article about our engagement. It will appear in the Society pages tomorrow.”
His head tilted slightly. “Do you think that is wise?”
She gave him a knowing look. “Our engagement is precisely the sort of thing Mr. Fairchild would report on. It would look suspicious if he did not.”
“You make a fair point,” Luca conceded. “But I would have preferred if you had written the article for my newssheets.”
“I will,” she murmured, allowing the promise to linger, “in good time.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a confidential tone that sent a shiver up her spine. “I spoke to my reporter. He will be watching the building in hopes that Mr. Griffin comes to retrieve his mail tomorrow.”
“That is good,” she whispered back.
They entered the dining room and Luca drew out her chair for her. She murmured her thanks and reached for her napkin. Once all were settled, the footmen glided forward with the first course, setting steaming bowls of soup before them.
Alistair’s voice broke the silence. “Now, what exactly is this plan of yours?”
Luca shifted in his seat. “Be warned, I never said it was a good plan, only that it was a plan.”
“That bodes confidence,” Alistair muttered.
“Charlotte is the diamond,” Luca announced, his words deliberate. “And we are going to use that to our advantage. We will try to get an audience with the queen and explain our situation. It is common knowledge that Her Majesty is no friend to the Duke of Brackenford. With any luck, she will support breaking the engagement.”
Alistair’s brows shot up. “That is your plan?”
