Chapter 8 #2
His grin was easy, confident, reckless. “We will deal with that when the time comes. You are the diamond, Charlotte. I have no doubt you will sparkle your way out of it.”
She pressed her lips together, feeling the weight of expectation pressing down upon her. “I wish I shared your confidence.”
“Then borrow mine,” Luca said, reaching for her hand.
Charlotte should have pulled away. She should have reminded him of boundaries, of propriety, of the danger in such familiarity. But instead, she let his fingers twine with hers. The contact was warm, grounding, and against all logic… comforting.
The worst part was that she did trust him. A little. Enough to terrify her. Trust was not something she gave easily, and he had found a crack in her armor far too quickly.
Staring down at their intertwined hands, she whispered, “You had better not be wrong about this, Luca.”
He leaned closer, his voice low and certain. “I am not.”
Against all logic, Charlotte heard herself whisper, “Then I trust you.”
The words startled her as much as they seemed to startle him. For a heartbeat, something unreadable flickered in Luca’s eyes—surprise, yes, but also something deeper, steadier, something that made her pulse quicken.
“Thank you, Charlotte,” he said softly, holding her gaze with a sincerity she had not expected.
For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to truly look at him.
She noticed the brown flecks hidden in his green eyes and the faint scar near his brow that only showed when he leaned close.
In that instant, he was not the infuriating man who delighted in teasing her, but rather a man who had glimpsed her vulnerabilities and chosen to stay.
The creak of the door shattered the fragile spell.
Jane stepped into the room, her sharp gaze immediately sweeping between them. Luca released Charlotte’s hand, springing to his feet with far too much haste.
Jane’s expression turned pointed, one brow arched in silent reproach. “I do believe I gave you two sufficient time to come up with a plan.”
“You did,” Luca replied.
“Good,” Jane said. “Then I will expect you at dinner tonight, so you may explain it to Alistair.”
Luca inclined his head. “Yes, my lady.” He shifted his gaze to Charlotte. “Until tonight, Diamond,” he said before departing from the room.
Jane crossed her arms. “I hope you know what you are doing.”
Charlotte sank back into the settee, pressing her hands against her skirts as though to keep them from trembling. “So do I,” she murmured, though in truth, she suspected neither of them had the faintest idea what she had just stepped into.
“You are engaged?!”
Luca’s hand stilled on his cravat mid-knot as Jude stood rigid in the doorway of his bedchamber.
Knowing there was no reason to deny it, Luca exhaled slowly. “I am.”
Jude stepped fully inside, shutting the door with unnecessary force.
His incredulous stare could have singed Luca where he stood.
“How could you? I knew you were spending a considerable amount of time with Miss Winslow, but marrying her? Did you not just tell me that you had no intention of pursuing her?”
Luca finished the knot of his cravat before turning to face his brother. “Let me explain before you cast judgment.”
Jude crossed his arms over his broad chest. “By all means, enlighten me.”
“After our carriage ride, the Duke of Brackenford was waiting for her,” Luca said, keeping his tone calm. “He offered for her.”
Jude’s mouth thinned. “So naturally, you decided to be her knight in shining armor.”
“Yes, and no.”
His brother’s brow arched. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“I never said we were going to marry.”
Jude scoffed. “Do you not know how engagements work, Brother?”
“I do, but—”
“But what?” Jude snapped, cutting him off. “You are going to tie yourself to that woman—”
“Careful, Brother,” Luca warned, the edge of protectiveness startling even himself.
Jude relented only slightly, his tone less biting but no less firm. “Very well. I will say it differently. You are going to tie yourself to a woman you don’t love?”
Luca retrieved his jacket and shrugged it over his shoulders. “It will not come to that.”
“And if it does?”
“I will find a way out of this mess.”
Jude stepped closer. “Women are deceitful creatures. How do you know Miss Winslow didn’t orchestrate this entire charade to trap you?”
Luca laughed under his breath, incredulous. “She could have married a duke.”
“Or perhaps the duke was in on it.”
“Not every woman is deceitful. Look at Mother.”
Jude’s expression faltered, softening into something more raw. “Mother was the exception.” His gaze sharpened again. “Whereas Miss Winslow barely seems to tolerate you.”
“It does seem that way at times,” Luca admitted. “But there is more to her than that. She is… extraordinary.”
Jude’s lips pressed into a skeptical line. “I can see why you are beguiled—her beauty is undeniable—but there should be more to a marriage than fascination.”
“Again, I won’t be marrying her.”
“And yet,” Jude pressed, “you spend all your waking time with her of late.”
Luca winced. “That is because we are friends.” He dared not reveal her secret work with him. It would put her in danger.
Jude’s hand came to rest heavily on Luca’s shoulder. “Promise me you will be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“You speak as if you have experience in being hurt.”
For the briefest instant, something unguarded flickered across Jude’s eyes—pain, so sharp and fleeting that Luca almost doubted it had been there at all.
Jude withdrew his hand. “Enjoy your dinner with Miss Winslow. I will be eating at the club.”
“Not with Father?”
“No. He is still at Parliament.”
“He works too hard.”
“That he does,” Jude agreed, though his voice carried a note of pride. “But he is trying to make a difference. I hope one day I will be half the man Father is.”
Luca gave his brother a pointed look. “You already are.”
Jude looked away, unable—or unwilling—to meet his gaze. “Thank you. But I still have much to learn.”
“Don’t we all?”
Jude moved towards the door. “Come, I will walk you out.”
They descended the corridor together, their footsteps echoing off the paneled walls. Silence stretched between them, heavy, laden with words unsaid. Luca stole a glance at his brother. The proud set of Jude’s shoulders looked burdened, bowed under responsibilities that even Luca could not name.
At the entry hall, Luca halted and turned. “What troubles you?”
Jude’s reply was quiet but steady. “Life troubles me.”
“I cannot help you with that.”
Jude’s lips twitched in something that might have been humor, but lacked the warmth. “You are always trying to fix things, but some things cannot be fixed. They are too irrefutably broken.”
“You are not one of those things,” Luca asserted.
Jude’s expression grew unreadable. “We shall see.” And with that, he turned down a side corridor, leaving Luca in the vast, echoing hall.
Luca watched him go, unease coiling in his chest. His brother carried secrets, burdens, and perhaps wounds that no one else could see. And he had no idea how to mend them.
Before Luca could slip away, the main door opened. His father filled the threshold, tall and immovable as ever.
“Good, you are still here,” his father said. “A word, please.”
It was no request. It never was. Luca inclined his head and followed without protest, though a coil of tension settled between his shoulders.
The study smelled faintly of tobacco and old leather, the fire banked low in the hearth. His father crossed to the drink cart and lifted the decanter. Crystal clinked softly as amber liquid poured into a glass.
“Are you truly engaged?” his father asked, not looking up as he poured.
“I am,” Luca answered, bracing himself.
“Hmmm.” The sound carried censure, as did the tightening of his father’s jaw. “And why was I the last to hear of this?”
“It was… unexpected. It sort of just happened.”
His father turned, glass in hand, and fixed him with a stare that could have stripped the bravado from any man. “You offered for Miss Winslow on a whim?”
“I did it to protect her,” Luca revealed. “The Duke of Brackenford was pressing his suit.”