Page 56 of Unmasking the Diamond
“This and that,” Rupert replied.
“That did not answer my question,” Alcott pressed.
“It is best that you do not know,” Rupert said, his words edged with finality. Without another glance back, he strode towards the great door of White’s, his tall frame vanishing into the din of the club.
Luca’s eyes lingered on his friend’s retreating figure. Rupert had always been a man wrapped in layers, a puzzle no one could fully solve. Perhaps that was why he was so effective when danger called.
Beside him, Alcott murmured, “What do you think Rupert is about?”
“Does it matter?” Luca asked, dragging his gaze back to Alcott.
“No, I suppose not.” Alcott exhaled heavily. “Still, he is a man shrouded in secrecy.”
Pushing back his chair, Luca rose and came to stand by his friend. “Every man is entitled to keep some secrets.”
Alcott huffed a laugh, though it lacked mirth. “You are right.”
“Come, I will walk you out. I have work that requires my attention tonight atThe London Gazette.”
Alcott cast him a wry look as they made their way towards the door. “You work too hard.”
“That is like calling the kettle black.”
“Fair enough.”
As they stepped out into the cool night air, Luca drew in a long breath, his mind already turning from the conversation to the mounting tasks ahead. But beneath it all, Charlotte’s face lingered—her defiance, her wounded pride, her vulnerability. He could bury himself in ink and paper, in mysteries and corruption, but she was the one riddle he could not ignore.
10
Charlotte descended the stairs, wholly unprepared for the spectacle that greeted her in the entry hall. She stopped on the last step, her mouth parting slightly. The hall had been transformed into a veritable jungle of blooms. Tables overflowed with vases stuffed with roses, tulips, peonies, and flowers she could not even name—bright, fragrant, and altogether excessive. Where in heaven’s name had all these flowers come from?
She caught sight of Malone speaking to a footman in hushed tones and stepped towards him. At once, the butler dismissed the footman and turned to her, a twinkle in his eye that Charlotte did not trust.
“Where did all these flowers come from?” she asked.
“They are for you, my lady,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “They arrived with this note.”
For me? Charlotte’s stomach twisted as she accepted the folded paper. The sight of the bold scrawl upon the front confirmed her suspicion even before she read the words inside:I wasn’t sure what your favorite flower was, so I merely bought out the store, my dear diamond.
Luca. Of course.
She pressed her lips together, unwilling to let Malone see the way her heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. It was—she loathed to admit—even thoughtful. But thoughtful or not, it did not erase the sting of what he had said to her the night before.
“Lord Luca also had these delivered,” Malone added, gesturing towards a side table.
Charlotte turned—and blinked. Three pineapples sat in regal glory upon a silver tray, their spiky crowns like mocking tiaras.
“Pineapples?” she asked, incredulous. She was well aware of how dear such delicacies were and how coveted, especially out of season. To see threebefore her was nothing short of absurd.
“I suspect he knew of your fondness for pineapple tarts,” Malone remarked.
Her brow furrowed. “How did he know?”
“I told him,” came Jane’s amused voice from behind.
Charlotte whirled to face her sister-in-law. “Why would you do such a thing?”
Looking entirely unapologetic, Jane merely lifted a shoulder. “Lord Luca wished to do something nice for you, and I saw no reason to dissuade him.”
