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had woken him in the darkest hours of the night.

“Sbrigati, figlio mio. You must away, quietly.” His father’s words guided him through their shadowed house in the country. “There will be a summons from the viceroy. You mustn’t be here when it comes.”

Luca closed the book, the snap of the sound breaking him out of his memories. He dropped the slim notebook into a drawer, then twisted the supplied key to secure it. During the day, the book would stay with him.

He rolled the pencil in his hand, marveling at the simple instrument. The machine-made wood-cased pencils had been impossible to get hold of during Napoleon’s reign, and in the years to follow, as trade negotiations faltered because of Italy’s uncertain future. He examined the sharpened end, then the exposed graphite core of the other side. He twirled it in his fingers, a smile upon his lips.

The Kingdom of the Two Sicilies had stabilized under King Ferdinand’s rule, and Luca would be as this pencil. A simple tool, an implement in the hand of his monarch, writing a new future for his people. Less uncertainty, more growth. The end of unrest, the beginning of modernization.

If he performed his duties well in England, he could accomplish much. An English wife with the backing of a powerful father would strengthen his influence and open doors for his people.

He had time. Rumor was that Parliament would not open again until January, after the Twelfth Night celebrations ended. He was a guest in the duke’s home until the family quitted the country for London. Three and a half months was plenty of time to court a young woman.

Luca stood from the desk and rubbed at his lower back, his muscles still aching from the carriage ride. A good stretch of the legs was in order for the next day. The walk through the gardens with Lady Josephine, Miss Arlen, and the naturalists ought to help.

He went to bed with a barely formed idea of strolling through gardens and dazzling Lady Josephine with his sophistication and charm.

Gaining a lady’s favor couldn’t be too difficult.

Chapter Four

Emma walked through the garden a step behind Josephine and the conte, while they walked several steps behind Mr. Rupert Gardiner and Miss Sharpe. With the most animated gestures, Mr. Gardiner pointed out the different species of flora in the Clairvoir gardens, noting which were native to England and which had been imported to the duke’s lands.

The late September afternoon, verging into October, boasted more sun than usual for that time of year. The breeze rustled through the leaves, now changed from green to yellow and orange, with reds and browns scattered throughout the gardens, too.

Mr. Gardiner stopped beneath a particularly bright-hued tree. “Here you can see this maple, imported from Norway, thrives in the garden. I noted in the summer that the magpie moth favored this tree, despite its lack of ability to disguise itself among the leaves.”

The ambassador frowned up at the tree and asked a few polite questions about tree and moth both before they continued on their walk. He appeared far too serious every time he spoke, which made Emma wonder if she had imagined his smile from the day before when he had returned her book.

He held himself too stiffly, though perhaps his posture had something to do with walking next to the mostly silent Josephine.

The scene they made, Emma reflected to herself, would likely be a pretty one if put on paper or canvas. Here a gentleman and lady walking, with obvious affection for one another. Behind them a man and woman not touching, dressed elegantly, and uncertain of one another.

Of course, the picture would not be complete without Emma bringing up the rear of the party in her smart rose-hued walking gown and pelisse.

Traditionally, when a lady walked with a gentleman, the companion’s role kept her several steps behind. Given that Emma didn’t receive financial compensation for her role and acted out of long-standing friendship and sisterly affection, she rarely confined herself to what others expected.

Today, she thought only to observe the conte and give Josephine an opportunity to form an opinion of him.

Thus far, Josephine appeared unimpressed.

Josephine had cast several glances over her shoulder during the quarter-hour of the walk, ostensibly to check that Emma remained well walking behind them. In reality, she had sent Emma many subtle signals only the two friends would understand.

The overall message was quite clear. Josephine was not enjoying her time with the Italian nobleman, and her patience wore thin.

Emma quickened her step enough to come to the conte’s free side. When he acknowledged her with a dip of his head, she smiled up at him. “Are you interested in the study of botany, Signore?”

He wore a diplomatic, unemotional mask that afternoon, giving no hint of his thoughts. “I enjoy learning of the natural world, Miss Arlen.”

“I quite enjoy the gardens, but I cannot say that I wish to know as much as our friends.” She gestured to Mr. Gardiner and Alice, both of whom had wandered off the path to peer down into a bush, likely forgetting for the moment that they had others with them. “His Grace is an amateur naturalist.”

The conte glanced at Josephine, his tone far too formal when he spoke. “Do you share that interest with your father, my lady?”

Josephine blinked, appearing momentarily confused by the question.

Oh dear. Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing. She wasn’t even listening.

“I beg your pardon; I am afraid my mind was on other matters.” Josephine did not even blush when she admitted her inattention. “Upon what subject are we speaking?”

Emma gestured to the conte. “His lordship wonders if you are interested in the science of naturalism.”

“Heavens, no.” Josephine laughed airily, wrinkling her nose. “I love flowers and gardens, of course, but I am content to appreciate them informally. Once you start bothering with the scientific terms and debating the merits of introducing one sort of plant over another to a

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