A Companion for the Count: A Regency Romance by Britton, Sally (story reading .txt) 📗

had settled next to her and were talking rapidly to each other about their future weddings.

Though tempted to join in their conversation—as unrealistic as they were in their plans for lace-trimmed gowns of blue and pink—she gave her attention to the ambassador. If she had made him uncomfortable, that would reflect poorly upon the duke’s hospitality.

“Lord Atella? I wonder—have I given you offense? I hope you know such was not my intent.”

He stared at his plate without making an immediate answer, frozen with his fork mid-stab in a piece of ham. When he spoke, his tone was most subdued. “I have done nothing except think on our last conversation, Miss Arlen.” He lowered his fork and kept his eyes trained upon his plate. “And I would like to accept your offer.”

* * *

One of the best ways to forge bonds with people of foreign countries and cultures was to make a sincere effort to learn their ways. If Luca could do that for an entire nation of people, he could take the time to focus that ability to learn of one woman. A young woman, of marriageable age, completely suited to the role of ambassador’s wife, and of high enough rank to impress his peers at home and abroad.

He hadn’t ever learned how, exactly, to gain the favor of a woman who wasn’t already impressed by his title or position. If he merely wanted a wife—without care of her status or suitability for the role—he could have had one long since.

Luca stared down at his plate, his humiliation making his ears burn. Spending years in a monastery and kept close to home, there hadn’t been time to learn the social art of flirtation. And English women were quite different than Italian women. The majority of his country remained Catholic, which meant strict observation of maidenly modesty in most circles. Not to mention how desperate families were merely to survive as their fledgling country fell under the rule of another Hapsburg monarch.

He released a deep sigh.

Miss Arlen’s hand delicately rested on his wrist, with just the slightest pressure to alert him to her presence.

He let his gaze travel from her fingers up to her warm brown eyes. Rather than appear smug, as he had feared she might, Miss Arlen’s expression was gentle.

“I will help you, Lord Atella. Perhaps you would like to meet me in the conservatory this afternoon? Then we can talk.”

Luca nodded his acceptance of the invitation, then made himself focus on his meal. Having a little help wouldn’t be the end of the world, nor would it result in his humiliation. Miss Arlen struck him as a friendly enough sort, and she would do nothing to give insult to a guest of the family. Trusting her felt safe.

Perhaps all he needed to know were a few little things, like Lady Josephine’s favorite flower or book, or her favorite music.

Cheered by this thought, Luca looked forward to his brief afternoon meeting with Miss Arlen. All would be well in short order.

Chapter Nine

Luca paced between the potted plants of the conservatory, noting the large basins full of green vines and long-stemmed flowers. He glanced upward at the ceiling which was half-covered in paned windows. The room felt much warmer than the outdoors and functioned as both a greenhouse and salon for the duchess, he’d been told.

He smoothed a loose curl back from his forehead, then adjusted the cuffs of his coat. His plan to grow closer to Lady Josephine through her companion had taken an unexpected turn, but that did not mean he needed to abandon it all together. If Miss Arlen liked him well enough to help his efforts with her lady, did that not accomplish much the same goal he’d had before her offer?

The castle felt far too quiet at this hour. He hadn’t seen any servants coming or going from the warm, humid room. Most of the guests had retired to their rooms to rest, he supposed. There were few entertainments to be had in the country on a Sunday afternoon.

At home, his family would rest to prepare to attend evening mass together.

Luca prodded a broad-leafed fern of some kind, trying to remove his thoughts from home and bring them back to the present moment.

“Mr. Gardiner would be able to tell you exactly what that bit of green is.” Miss Arlen’s tone sounded as bright and cheerful as ever, and when he turned to face her, he saw that she still wore her cream-yellow gown from morning services, as well as the slippery blue shawl that kept trying to escape her shoulders.

He bowed. “Miss Arlen. Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Atella.” She curtsied from where she stood, a dozen feet away from him. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me. I felt certain after our last conversation that things needed to be mended between us.”

“Not at all. You merely caught me off guard at the picnic.” He took a few steps toward her, then tucked his hands behind his back. “But after some consideration, I do believe you have your mistress’s best interests at heart.”

“That is always true,” she said with a firmness that surprised him. “Lady Josephine is like a sister to me, and the duke and duchess have looked after me as one of their own for many years.”

“Your loyalty to them is a high compliment,” he murmured, measuring the determined glint in her eye by what he already knew of her. “I wonder, Miss Arlen, if we might begin the conversation on what has brought us both here. You say you have observed my attempts to get to know your mistress. You find them wanting.”

She had made that clear enough.

“I am afraid so.” Her tight-lipped smile showed her reluctance to embarrass him, as did the way she turned from him. “You will never endear yourself to Lady Josephine by following on her heels. She will only think you intrusive. The best way to win her interest will