Page 97 of Unmasking the Diamond
Before she could react, a coarse hand seized her arm. A rough fabric bag was forced over her head, cutting off the sunlight.
“Wait—!” she gasped, but the word was strangled by panic. Something heavy struck the side of her skull, and the world pitched violently sideways.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
Luca sat behind his desk in the cramped office ofThe London Gazette, exhaustion pressing on him like a physical weight. The faint scent of ink and paper hung thick in the air, mingling with the acrid smoke of a candle that had burned too long. His morning had been a waste—hours standing in the biting wind outside Mr. Dawlish’s modest residence, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mother. But luck, it seemed, had abandoned him. No sign of her. No new leads. Just time lost—time he no longer had to spare.
He leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingertips to his temples. How many nights had he spent chasing shadows through London’s alleys and parlors, following threads that unraveled just as quickly as he could grasp them?
A sharp rap at the door broke through his thoughts.
“Enter,” he ordered.
The door creaked open, and Mr. Wright poked his head inside. “Mr. Hillstead wants a word, but if you’d prefer, I can tell him you’re occupied?—”
Luca didn’t have the patience. “Send Hillstead in.”
Wright’s disapproving huff was audible even as he withdrew. A moment later, the door opened wider to reveal Hillstead, looking infuriatingly smug, as though he had uncovered the meaning of life.
“I have come bearing news,” Hillstead announced as he strode into the room.
Luca regarded him warily. “What kind of news?”
Hillstead dropped himself into the chair opposite Luca’s desk. “I tracked down that maid again—the one Miss Dawlish dismissed without references. She wasn’t inclined to talk until I offered incentive.” He rubbed his fingers together meaningfully. “By the way, you owe me five pounds.”
Suppressing a sigh, Luca reached into his jacket pocket and drew out several coins, setting them on the desk. “Let us hope your generosity was worth the cost.”
“Oh, it was.” Hillstead scooped the coins up with a grin. “According to her, the Duke of Brackenford visited Miss Dawlish several times. However”—he paused dramatically, his grin widening—“Mr. Dawlish was always there as well.”
That made Luca straighten. “Her son was present?”
“Indeed. And the maid said the three of them acted… familiar.”
Luca frowned, the puzzle pieces shifting but refusing to lock into place. “What do you suppose that means?”
Hillstead shrugged, leaning back. “I don’t know. But there’s a connection here. We just haven’t uncovered it yet.”
Luca’s gaze drifted to the ledger sitting on the corner of his desk. “I have read that ledger a dozen times, and it refuses to yield another secret.”
“If it has any left to yield,” Hillstead replied flippantly.
Luca exhaled slowly. “I can scarcely imagine the conditions Lady Matthew must be enduring being locked away at The Chelmsford Asylum,” he said. “We must find proof before it’s too late.”
“We could go to Lord Matthew,” Hillstead suggested. “Tell him what we’ve learned. It might scare him into freeing her.”
Luca’s head snapped up. “And risk alerting the Duke of Brackenford or Lord Coldwyck? No. Until we know exactly how they are connected, we cannot act. Not yet.”
Hillstead rose with a mock bow. “I won’t argue since you’re the one paying my wages.”
Before Luca could retort, the office door slammed open, the sound echoing off the walls. Alcott stood in the doorway, his expression thunderous.
Luca rose immediately. “Alcott?”
“Where is she?” his friend demanded.
He stared back at Alcott. “Where is who?”
“Do not play coy with me.” Alcott stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides. “Where is Charlotte?”
