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

a sure sign of deceit. “I have been nowhere other than where I’m supposed to be.”

“Mm.” Emma turned and put both hands on her hips. “I know you better than anyone, Josie. You aren’t doing anything inappropriate, are you? No meetings with stable boys or gardeners?”

Josephine laughed freely at that. “No! Can you imagine? Father would send me away to a convent—and we aren’t even Catholic.” She snuggled into the chair, plucking up the cushion to hold it over her middle. “There are no men involved in my secret—and yes, I do have a secret. I promise I will tell you all about it soon. I only wish to keep it to myself a little longer.”

Although tempted to nettle her friend until Josephine revealed all, Emma let the matter rest with that promise. She trusted Josephine. That would be enough for the time being.

She found her gloves in her bureau and tugged them on. “You had better be on your way. I will only be able to keep Lord Atella at bay for so long, especially given the wind outside.”

“You are marvelous in your sacrifice.” Josephine stood and dropped the cushion back in place. “I will owe you a thousand favors for this.”

“Not at all. His company isn’t truly horrible. If it were, I would not be so willing a sacrifice.”

Josephine laughed and accompanied Emma out of the room, though they parted ways long before Josephine met Lord Atella at one of the castle doors leading out to the gardens. He had dressed as warmly as she, his elderberry coat of fine wool making her rather envious for a moment. Men’s clothing always looked warmer than what women might commission from their seamstresses.

He appeared as skeptical of her costume weathering the elements as she was. “Will you be warm enough, Miss Arlen? We could limit ourselves to the conservatory, if you prefer.”

Then they would only have a quarter of an hour in a room where anyone might interrupt or overhear them. No, they must brave the wind if Emma had any hope of keeping him away from the salon long enough for Josie to appear and disappear.

“I will be warm enough, my lord, though I thank you for your concern.” She tucked the ends of her scarf more tightly beneath the neck of her coat. “A little wind will do us no harm.”

He politely offered his arm to her, which she took with gratitude. The additional warmth of human touch, limited though it was, would be of help.

They left the castle through a side door and crossed the open lawn along a broad pebbled walk. An opening between two hedges let them into the first level of gardens, just below the castle with stone steps taking them down into the rose garden. Here, four different paths met at a small fountain, which they skirted to continue downhill.

They passed beneath trees and hedges both, and the wind that had nipped at their heels tapered off. The conte slowed their pace.

“The day began with such promise,” he said, looking through the branches above them. “A blue sky, a bright sun.”

“That is the way of things in England. The weather is most unpredictable, and one must always consider whether to carry an umbrella.” Emma released his arm to check that her bonnet remained correct atop her head. Josephine hadn’t exaggerated the effect that the force of the wind might have upon her headpiece.

The ambassador tucked his hands behind his back and looked down at his boot-tips. “Your cousin has kept me company many times the last several days. Do I have you to thank for that?”

Emma nearly denied having anything to do with Andrew’s sudden friendliness, but one look at the ambassador’s shrewd expression made her give the idea up. “I did ask that he treat you with hospitality. Is he a great nuisance? Shall I call him off?”

“I must admit that I did not care for him at first.” The ambassador’s lips tilted upward at one corner. “I find that I enjoy his sense of humor. He has a playful nature.”

“He does.” Emma tied her bonnet ribbons tighter beneath her chin. “He likes people, too.”

They said nothing as they turned a corner on the path, passing deeper into the hedges. Emma had prepared herself to offer counsel, but it took her a little more time than she thought it would to arrange the introduction of the topic. Lord Atella said little, though he kicked the occasional pebble out of his path.

He spoke first, delaying her presentation of her idea further.

“I received a large trunk from my family yesterday.”

“Oh, yes. I did hear about that.” Emma snatched onto this topic happily. “Is your family well?”

“Yes. They are quite content. One of my sisters, the second of the three, is now engaged to be married.” His expression softened, from the gentle press of his lips to the light in his eyes. “To a friend of mine I met during my time at the Austrian university. He is a fine man. I think they will be happy together.”

“Are you sorry you will miss the wedding?” she asked, lowering her gaze to the walk. “I cannot imagine you could return home soon enough to suit them.”

“No. It would not be practical. Instead, I will send them gifts. Many, many gifts. And a letter to my friend filled with the dire consequences he will suffer if my sister is not happy.”

Emma’s gaze shot to his like an arrow, her mouth gaping, and then she saw a glint in his eye that she had only glimpsed before. The man had made a joke. She laughed, as surprised by his efforts as amused by them. “You are a fierce protector.”

He nodded sharply, a smile teasing at his lips again. “Very fierce. A lion in the defense of my family.”

“A lion.” She cocked her head to the side, pretending to appraise him. “Do lions wear such fine suits, my lord?”

He held out his arms and looked down at his clothing.