Page 87 of Unmasking the Diamond
“I do,” Luca replied.
“Then we mustn’t keep you,” she simply said, her tone polite but pointed.
Luca recognized a dismissal when he heard one. “Excuse me,” he offered, bowing once more before turning to leave.
As he walked back along the gravel path towards the house, he resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder. He could still feel Charlotte’s gaze on him—or perhaps it was only his imagination, wishful thinking. His thoughts churned as he reached the gate. He’d meant to tell her about Mr. Dawlish and the man’s connection to the Duke of Brackenford, but the moment had slipped away.
And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
For the briefest moment before Jane’s interruption, Charlotte had looked at him as though she saw something more than a sparring partner or an inconvenient ally. There had been vulnerability in her eyes, yes—but also something dangerously close to trust.
He would tell her about Mr. Dawlish tonight, he resolved. But first, he needed to steady himself. Because if Charlotte Winslow looked at him like that again, no amount of reason or restraint would be enough to keep his heart from betraying him.
15
Charlotte watched as Luca walked away, the echo of his retreating footsteps lingering like a reproach. Heat rose to her cheeks—not from anger, but from the sting of humiliation. She had allowed him to see a side of her she never revealed. The fragile, frightened part she buried beneath layers of composure and wit. What must he think of her now? Would he think her weak? Foolish?
She pressed a trembling hand to her stomach, willing her heartbeat to slow. This was why she kept her mask firmly in place. Why she smiled when she wished to scream, why she laughed when she wanted to weep. It was better this way. Better to let the world see the diamond of the Season—polished, confident, unbreakable—than the frightened girl her father had once deemed worthless.
Her father. The thought alone was a blade to the heart. Even from beyond the grave, his voice whispered in her mind, sharp and cruel.You are nothing. A disappointment. A burden.
“Would you care to explain what that was all about?” Jane’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Charlotte turned sharply. “Nothing of importance.”
Jane raised a skeptical brow. “It did not appear to be nothing. You were crying, and Lord Luca was consoling you.”
Charlotte forced a careless shrug, though her throat ached. “It was merely a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”
“Why not?”
The simple question made her falter. “What do you mean?”
Jane’s eyes softened, her tone patient. “I only meant that I’m glad you are opening up to Lord Luca. He is a man you can trust.”
Charlotte let out a humorless laugh. “Trust? Hardly. He delights in teasing me at every opportunity.”
Jane’s lips curved knowingly. “And why do you suppose he does that? Could it be that he holds affection for you?”
“He cares for me,” Charlotte admitted. “He has said as much.”
“But affection, Charlotte,” Jane pressed, her smile tender. “There is a difference between care and feeling. I believe Lord Luca feels quite deeply for you.”
“For me?” Charlotte repeated, incredulous. “That is absurd. This engagement isn’t even real.”
Jane’s knowing expression didn’t waver. “Perhaps. But what I just witnessed looked real enough.”
Charlotte stiffened. “Well, you would be wrong.”
Jane stepped closer and rested a hand lightly on her sleeve. “Trusting someone is not a weakness. It is a reflection of your heart—of your courage, not theirs.”
Charlotte’s voice grew tight. “And what if my heart is wrong?”
“Then you will mend it,” Jane said. “But I will tell you this—I followed my heart once, and it led me to Alistair. Love may be terrifying, but it is worth every tremor of fear.”
Charlotte frowned. “I never said anything about love.”
“I know,” Jane said with a faint smile. “You hold everything in, pretending to be someone you are not. For what purpose?”
