Page 63 of Unmasking the Diamond
Charlotte’s chin tilted, her pride bristling. “Is that truly necessary?”
“Yes,” Rupert replied without hesitation.
Luca leaned forward. “I am willing to try, if you are.”
Her lips curved into what she hoped resembled a smile. “Yes. We can make an effort.”
Rupert groaned aloud. “Are you smiling or grimacing? You look like you are on your way to the guillotine.”
Her cheeks flamed. “I am smiling.”
“Are you?” Rupert muttered. “Convince me. You can flirt with hordes of eager gentlemen, and yet you cannot summon the same with your betrothed?”
His words struck deeper than she cared to admit. She forced herself to meet Luca’s eyes, but it felt like standing on the edge of something far more dangerous than Society gossip. She could flutter her lashes, feign admiration, but something in her resisted. Because with Luca, it did not feel like playacting.
“I’m waiting,” Luca murmured, holding her gaze steady.
With effort, she donned her brightest smile, the very one that had made lords do her bidding. “Is this more believable?”
Rupert looked bored. “Not in the least.”
Her pride flared. “Then what am I doing wrong?”
“Because it’s false,” Rupert said simply. “You wear it like armor. You are vain, conceited—no offense.”
Her frown deepened. “Just because you say ‘no offense’ does not mean you soften the blow.”
Leaning forward, Rupert asked, “I have seen you charm a ballroom full of men, but why can’t you do the same with your betrothed?”
Charlotte’s breath hitched. She turned her head, terrified of what he might have seen in her eyes. Vulnerability was dangerous. She could not—would not—let it show.
Luca’s warm hand covered hers, startling her. “Charlotte, look at me.”
Her resistance wavered. Reluctantly, she turned back, meeting his gaze.
“Rupert is right,” he said. “If they do not believe our engagement, you will be ruined.”
“I know,” she whispered.
His thumb stroked over her gloved hand, sending an unwanted shiver through her. “I tease, I goad, but because Iam fond of you. You are unlike any young woman I have ever known.”
She tried to deflect with humor. “That is because you do not keep good company.”
His lips twitched. “Perhaps. But we are friends, are we not?”
Friends. The word cut more sharply than it should have. That was what she wanted, was it not? So why did her chest ache?
“We are,” she forced out.
“Then affection should not be so difficult,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips.
Her heart pounded so violently in her chest that she feared he might hear it. When he pressed a kiss to her glove, her breath caught.
“See how easy it is?” he murmured.
Rupert clapped, the sound jarring. “Well done!”
Humiliation flooded her. She snatched her hand back, mortified that her reaction had been part of a performance.
