Page 94 of Unmasking the Diamond
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Charlotte kept her eyes closed, determined to ignore the infernal chirping just outside her window. The birds seemed to mock her exhaustion, their cheerful trills a reminder that sleep had abandoned her long before dawn. She rolled to her side, cocooning herself deeper beneath the blankets, but rest would not come. Her thoughts—unruly and insistent—refused to quiet.
A knock sounded at the door before it creaked open.
“Good morning, Miss,” Sally said, her voice far too bright for the hour. “Shall we dress you for the day?”
“No,” Charlotte mumbled, reaching for a pillow and pressing it over her head. “I wish to sleep.”
Undeterred, Sally crossed the room and threw open the curtains. Sunlight flooded in, stabbing straight through Charlotte’s closed lids.
“It is nearly noon,” Sally announced. “Do you wish to miss breakfast with your brother and Lady Alcott?”
“Yes,” came Charlotte’s muffled reply.
Sally laughed. “Would you like me to request a tray be sent to your room, then?”
Charlotte groaned and removed the pillow, glaring at her maid. “No. I suppose I shall rise for the day, but let it be known that it is entirely under protest.”
“That is the spirit,” Sally teased.
Charlotte sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool floorboards. “I hardly slept last night,” she admitted.
“Is something troubling you?” Sally asked, then smirked. “Or should I say—someone?”
Charlotte shot her a warning look. “I should dismiss you for your impertinence.”
“But you won’t,” Sally said cheerfully. “Because you know no one else would tolerate you like I do.”
Charlotte’s lips twitched despite herself. “You make an excellent point.” She did trust Sally—more than she trusted almost anyone. Her maid had been with her for years, through every pretense and heartbreak. And yet, as she reached for her dressing gown, an image surfaced unbidden: Luca. His steady eyes, his disarming smile. The way he made her feel seen, even when she didn’t wish to be.
Her lips curved faintly.
“What are you smiling about?” Sally asked.
The smile vanished. “Nothing.”
Sally plucked a pale green gown from the wardrobe and held it up to the light. “You are a dreadful liar, Miss. I must assume you were smiling about Lord Luca.”
Charlotte tried for nonchalance. “And why would you assume that?”
“Because you have acted differently since he came into your life,” Sally said, hanging the gown neatly over the back of the settee. “You seem… happier.”
Charlotte rose, straightening her shoulders. “That is because I am. But it is not because of Luca.”
“If you say so,” Sally replied, unconvinced.
“I do,” Charlotte insisted, though the words rang hollow even to her own ears.
Sally merely smiled and reached for the brush. “Shall we arrange your hair first?”
Charlotte sat at her dressing table, watching her reflection as Sally began to draw the brush through her tangled hair. “Have you written your article for the week yet?” her maid asked.
“No,” Charlotte confessed. “I have been… distracted.”
“By Lord Luca,” Sally said under her breath.
Charlotte frowned. “You are incorrigible. How is Martha settling in?” she asked, hastily changing the subject.
