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

They pulled ahead of the baronet—and won.

Luca laughed, rubbing the horse’s neck while it whinnied and shook its head, its sides lightly coated in sweat.

Sir Andrew didn’t appear the least upset by his loss. He wore his usual grin, looking every bit as pleased as if he had won, and congratulated Luca before dismounting. The two of them left their horses in the care of the stables and started the walk up the hill, passing the practice ring and a flurry of grooms as they walked through one of the lower gardens.

The castle was practically its own village with the number of people constantly moving about the estate, working to ensure the duke’s home ran as it should, seeing to all things necessary for His Grace and the comfort of his guests.

Gardeners worked on trimming hedges and covering roots with mosses and straw, preparing the delicate plants for winter, while others planted flowers meant to bloom through the autumn and winter. The sheer size of it all made Luca’s home feel small by comparison. His family had a small estate on an unremarkable hilltop with a sleepy village at its base.

“Oh, Lord Atella. There you are.”

Luca had barely stepped inside, stripping off his gloves and hat to hand them to a footman. Sir Andrew did the same, and he responded before Luca could.

“And where is my greeting, cousin?”

Miss Arlen cocked an unimpressed eyebrow at Sir Andrew. “You probably do not deserve to be acknowledged today. You have a look of mischief about you that means I must be on my guard.” Despite her words, she came forward and tucked her hand through Sir Andrew’s arm. “Had you a good ride?”

“Yes, until Lord Atella bested me in a race. I owe him a forfeit now.”

“Poor you.” She turned her wide smile to Luca. “You must take full advantage of having my cousin in your debt, my lord. He is surprisingly useful.”

The footmen had left with their things, giving Luca little to do with his hands other than tug at the sleeves of his coat. He likely smelled of horse, though why that should bother him in Miss Arlen’s presence, he did not know.

Luca attempted to join their banter, though uncertainty made his posture taut. “Perhaps I will seek your counsel before I decide how best to claim the debt.”

Sir Andrew laughed and started walking, guiding them all down the long hall of black and white marble, up to the first staircase. “I beg of you, my lord, do not encourage Emma’s tormenting ways.”

“Nonsense. I rarely ever torment you.” Emma raised her gaze to Luca on her other side. “Can you imagine I have any power over my cousin, my lord?”

Despite his awkward stiffness, Luca had to chuckle. He could picture the petite woman forcing her cousin into all sorts of trouble with nothing more than a few coaxing words. She had a talent, an air about her, that made him think her capable of achieving many feats through will and humor alone.

“I dare not contradict you, Miss Arlen. Nor give your cousin reason to think less of me by agreeing with you.”

“Ever the politician,” she responded with a dramatic sigh. “Very well. I will not force you to take sides.” She pulled Sir Andrew to a halt. “Here I must part ways with you both. I am to wait upon Her Grace, my lady’s grandmother.”

Sir Andrew released her arm before crossing his own. “Ah, the dowager. What lessons has she to teach you today?”

Luca raised his eyebrows, wondering why Miss Arlen would have an audience with the dowager duchess. She hadn’t seemed overly fond of Her Grace when they spoke of the woman. She met his gaze and laughed.

“You needn’t worry, my lord. She is not such a dragon all the time. Today, I am to read to her. While this would normally be a duty for Lady Josephine, the dowager says she does not like how my lady fidgets when reading.”

Sir Andrew snorted, though whether the situation annoyed or amused him was difficult to tell. “Josephine never can sit still for long.”

“I do not blame her. Her Grace’s suite has the most uncomfortable chairs.” Miss Arlen met Luca’s gaze. “And they have vastly different tastes in books. Her Grace much prefers titles written by noble pens. Her current favorite is a French tale, La Belle et la Bête, by a noblewoman.”

“A fairy tale?” Luca had heard of it. A French masterpiece, popular with the court in the prior century.

She grinned at him. “Oui, Lord Atella. In this one thing the dowager duchess and I share our taste. We are excessively fond of stories with wicked fairies and princes in disguise.”

“Lady Josephine much prefers modern tales and comedic romances,” Sir Andrew said with a grimace. “Give her a silly heroine and she is all the more pleased.” He shook his head, then bowed to his cousin. “Good luck, Emma. I hope the dragon finds your reading favorable enough that she puts off eating you for another day.”

Miss Arlen waved her cousin away, and he left without caring that Luca remained behind.

The woman looked up at Luca, her smile smaller, though by no means less pleasant. Her expression softened, and she may have spoken had he not blurted his question first.

“Is she unkind to you?” Luca shifted, uncomfortably aware the answer wasn’t any of his business. “Her Grace?”

Miss Arlen blinked at him, her expression turning to one of confusion. “Not at all, though she is certainly disapproving of me from time to time. When I was much younger, she accused me of only being kind to Lady Josephine because of my lady’s money. She thought I manipulated Lady Josephine to spend her pocket money on me.”

That made Luca wince. “An insulting accusation, no matter your age.”

“Indeed. I became aware of that accusation, though it wasn’t made to me directly, and confronted her. I did feel like I faced a dragon on that occasion.”

“How old