Page 95 of Unmasking the Diamond
“Quite nicely. The others seem to like her well enough.”
“I am glad,” Charlotte responded. “I hope everyone continues to be kind to her. She risked so much to arrive here.”
A knock came at the door.
“Enter,” Charlotte called.
Jane swept into the room, her usual cheer lighting her face. “You are awake!”
“Not by choice,” Charlotte muttered.
Jane laughed and crossed the room. “Would you care to accompany me to the circulating library after your breakfast?”
“I would love to,” Charlotte replied, “but first I plan to join you and Alistair in the dining room.”
Jane’s eyes sparkled. “We finished some time ago. We tried to linger for your sake, but your brother had business that required his attention.”
“How is my dear brother?” Charlotte asked.
Jane’s smile softened. “He is well, though I believe your conversation yesterday weighs heavily upon him. He hadn’t realized how deeply you had been hurting. I think it moved him more than he wished to admit. I hope you know how much he loves you.”
Charlotte’s throat tightened. “I know he loves me.”
“Good,” Jane said before moving to sit upon the bed.
Sally fastened the final pins in Charlotte’s chignon, then stepped back to admire her work. “Shall we dress you now?”
Charlotte stood, slipped out of her nightgown, and donned the pale green muslin. As Sally began fastening the delicate buttons along her back, Charlotte’s gaze drifted to the window.
The sunlight glimmered through the glass, bright and relentless—much like the man who had stolen her sleep and, if she were honest, a portion of her heart as well.
Jane’s voice broke through Charlotte’s musings. “I have a few things to do before we leave for the circulating library. Shall we meet in the drawing room, say, in half an hour?”
“I will be looking forward to it,” she replied, managing a smile.
“Wonderful.” Jane rose gracefully. With a tilt of her head, she added, “Try not to be late,” before departing.
When the door closed, silence settled over the room once more. Charlotte reached for her gloves and began pulling them on, one finger at a time, as if the small, precise motions might steady her thoughts.
Behind her, Sally moved about tidying ribbons and pins that had been left on the dressing table. “Have you heard any delicious rumors as of late?” Charlotte asked, hoping for a distraction.
Sally paused, tapping her chin in thought. “I’m afraid not, Miss. Most everyone in high Society is talking about your engagement to Lord Luca.”
Charlotte groaned under her breath. “An infernal waste of time,” she muttered.
Sally turned, amusement glinting in her eyes. “Do you truly intend to cry off the engagement?”
Charlotte stiffened. What sheintendedand what shefeltwere two entirely different things. The plan had always been clear—accept Luca’s false proposal to fend off the Duke of Brackenford, then end it as soon as the scandal faded. It was a practical arrangement, one rooted in logic, not sentiment.
However, logic had very little to do with the way her heart raced whenever Luca’s eyes met hers, or how his teasing words lingered long after he had gone.
She swallowed hard, staring at her reflection in the looking glass. “Yes,” she said finally. “It is the right thing to do.”
“For whom?”
The quiet question struck deeper than Charlotte cared to admit. “For everyone involved,” she said quickly. “Luca only offered for me to save me from the Duke of Brackenford’s proposal.”
Even as she spoke the words, her chest tightened. She wanted them to sound firm, final—but they felt hollow, like a script she had repeated too often to believe.
