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

Luca stepped away from her, bending over a potted fern as though to examine its leaves. Hopefully, she did not notice his discomfort with the subject. Growing up among monks and then men at university hadn’t prepared him for this. “That is what you believe? And how does a man go about such a thing if he is not already in the woman’s company?”

Miss Arlen spoke kindly, but with conviction. “A woman like Josephine will notice a man who is happily himself, a man who is not trying to impress her. She has had gentlemen and nobility alike vying for her attention since she was a girl of fourteen.”

Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Luca that she would be used to more eloquent suitors than himself. And from such a young age. “The duke permitted that?” he asked, somewhat at a loss.

“He put a stop to some flirtations before the duchess presented Lady Josephine to the Queen. When he knew about them.” Miss Arlen released a humorless laugh. “I know he has also told a few men their suits were not welcome. Nor is he willing to arrange a marriage Lady Josephine will not consent to.” Affection colored her words about the duke. “He is a very loving father.”

How did one woo a woman who had men from the highest echelons of England seeking her favor and her hand?

For one awful moment, Luca’s ambitions wavered. Much of his planned success hinged upon an English bride with a rank high enough to command respect and breeding fine enough to impress upon his countrymen and hers his suitability for his position of ambassador. How had he begun this course without realizing how complicated it would be?

Miss Arlen’s hand landed upon his sleeve, startling him out of his bleak thoughts. He hadn’t even heard her approach.

“Take heart, my lord.” She wore a gentle expression with a softness in her eyes. As though she understood the difficult path he had laid for himself. “I will arm you as best I can for this battle.” Then her tone lightened. “No one knows my lady better than I do.”

Luca relaxed, then looked down to where her bare hand remained upon his sleeve, contemplating her words. A thought occurred to him—strange, but he did not doubt the impression. “You are not really a companion, are you? You serve in that place, but there is more to it than that.”

She withdrew her hand, but rather than appear offended, she took on the air of someone with a secret. Her chin raised, she turned from him to pace the width of the conservatory. “The important thing is that I have the insight you need. My first instruction to you remains the same. Stop trying to win Lady Josephine’s interest by interjecting yourself into her doings and conversations. Her whole life, people have come to her and blatantly attempted to win her favor. My lady will be won by someone who makes her come to him. I am certain of it.”

Luca followed her to a padded bench against the glass wall, and after she sat, he took the opposite end for himself. “I submit myself to your instruction, Miss Arlen. What would you have me do?”

“Be yourself,” she answered without pause, angling her body toward him. “In company, express your own thoughts rather than seeking after hers first. By all means, listen to what she says, but Lady Josephine cannot stand toad-eating.”

Everything she said had made sense until that phrase. Luca stared at Miss Arlen, his mind taking her words and turning them over. Had he understood her correctly? What did eating amphibians have to do with anything? Did anyone he knew eat frogs or toads?

He opened his mouth, closed it, and tried once more to understand the English phrase.

“Is something wrong, my lord? You appear confused.”

“Did you say—I apologize—but did you say she does not like people who consume toads?”

Miss Arlen had the grace not to laugh, though she momentarily pressed her lips together before speaking. “I suppose that is not a common phrase in Italian. In England, when someone is a false-flatterer, or pretends to agree with everything someone else says in order to win their favor, we call that ‘toad-eating.’”

He stared. Considered her explanation. “I still do not understand what toads have to do with flattery.”

She laughed then. “I suppose I’m not certain where the phrase came from, either. But that is how it is used.”

He muttered a complaint against the English language in Italian, rubbing at his forehead. “I will keep that in mind. No false flattery or pretended agreement to win favor.”

“Good.” Miss Arlen folded her hands in her lap. “I cannot tell you how often I have seen men and women both do that to Lady Josephine. She cannot abide it. Another thing you must never do is behave as though you have superior knowledge. I do not know a single woman who enjoys a man acting as instructor over her opinion or activities. Not unless she asks. I have watched men explain things to Lady Josephine that she learned in her infancy. Nothing makes her more impatient than someone setting themselves over her as a master.”

Did anyone enjoy such arrogant behavior in others? “I can understand that irritation. When I first arrived in England, many spoke to me as though I had lived in the wilds of a forest instead of civilized society.”

“As though a difference in primary language meant a difference in your intelligence. Yes, I am afraid it is the same for my sex as a whole.” She waved away the topic. “Now, as I said before, I think if you wish to gain Lady Josephine’s attention you need only show yourself to advantage.”

Luca leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands. He muttered between his fingers. “Sono ridicolo. This is the most ridiculous conversation. I am not a prize horse at an auction.”

“Neither is Josephine,” Miss Arlen said, tone even