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

Emma pulled at her arm to take the appendage back under her own control. “Josie, that was terribly rude.” She peered over the fern but realized she couldn’t see the count from that angle. “Even if your father didn’t notice, you can be certain he will ask where you slipped away to in such a hurry.”

“I’ll come up with a good excuse for that later.” Josephine grinned and straightened, brushing her hands together as though to remove dirt from her gloves. “Let’s go back to my room. We need to put together a copy of the itinerary for the count.”

“Very well.” Emma followed her dearest friend through the plants into the castle proper; they had reached the bottom of the main staircase when she remembered: “Oh, I left my book on the edge of the fountain.” She bit her lip and turned around. To leave a book, any book at all, in such a precarious place was as near to committing a sin as ever she had come. But to leave one of her favorite books? Had she lost her wits?

“Oh dear. You aren’t going back to get it?” Josephine asked the question with reluctance, then sighed when Emma frowned at her. “I know, I know. You cannot leave a book like that. Fine. You go fetch it; I will wait in my room. I cannot risk being trapped by the count again.”

“I understand. I will be quick.” Emma turned around, going back the way they had come. At the conservatory door, she rushed in and turned around a large pot containing a large shrub covered in purple leaves—and ran headlong into a sturdy black wall of wool and buttons.

* * *

Although Luca hadn’t expected an Englishwoman to throw herself into his arms, at least he didn’t topple over when it happened. He instinctively caught Miss Arlen with one arm around her, his hand landing between her shoulder blades, while still keeping her forgotten book in his other hand.

“Miss Arlen.” He peered down at her, the angle of his gaze awkward, unable to release the woman given that she leaned heavily against him.

“Oh dear.” She looked up, her eyes wide and her cheeks reddening. “I am terribly sorry, but I neglected to look where I was going. I beg your pardon.”

Her utterly charming appearance improved with her blush. “No, signorina. I am to blame. Mi scusi.” He tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but her eyebrows had drawn tightly together.

“You may release me now, my lord.”

She didn’t seem as dependent on him for stability as she had a moment ago, so he dropped his arm and stepped back. Then took another step away for good measure.

“Again, my sincere apologies.” He bowed, tucking the hand with the book behind his back. “You are alone? Is Lady Josephine not with you?”

“As you see, sir.” She gestured at the empty doorway behind her. “Lady Josephine had a—erm—pressing situation to see to for this evening’s entertainment.” Her blush had faded, and the engaging smile she had worn before suddenly reappeared. “I am to join her, but I realized I forgot my book by the fountain. I must retrieve it.”

Luca relaxed, rocking back on his heels. “That is not necessary. You see, I have your book here.” He produced the volume from behind his back with a flourish. “I see we have similar tastes in books as we do in plays, Miss Arlen. Arabian Nights. It is one of my favorites.” He held it out to her with a bow.

Miss Arlen reached for the small volume with both hands, and one eyebrow tilted upward again. “You’ve read it? In Italian, I presume?”

“Yes. The work is stunning, is it not? I particularly enjoy the tale of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. Though the voyages of Sinbad also entertain me.”

Her mouth fell open as she accepted the book, then folded her arms tightly over it, as though hugging the volume to her. “I agree. Sinbad’s travels are exceptional. I do wonder who wrote all the stories, originally. They cannot all have the same author.”

The spark of interest he had seen in her warm brown eyes when they spoke of Shakespeare returned.

“I have thought the same. It would be like trying to ascribe all the myths of the Romans to a single person. Doubtless the stories were known for centuries and someone finally thought to write them down.”

An idea flickered in his mind. The woman standing before him struck him as clever, and obviously she was close to her mistress. Perhaps if he could win the companion to his side she would help further his cause with Lady Josephine. Befriending the lady’s closest confidant might gain enough of Lady Josephine’s favor to allow him to court her. Surely, even the daughter of a duke could be won by someone as single-minded as Luca. If he courted, wooed, and wed her, that would fulfill his duty to his king and strengthen the fragile bond between nations.

Miss Arlen peered up at him with a charming tilt to her head.

His idea appealed to him more.

What had they been discussing?

“I haven’t read all of them yet,” she said. “I am afraid the duke has hidden several volumes from us, because there are things in some of the stories not fit for an unmarried woman’s consumption. At least, that is what His Grace said.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Someday, I’ll find where he hid them. Or obtain my own copies.”

Luca coughed and covered his mouth with a fist to fight back a smile. He had to maintain formality, given his position as an ambassador. “A worthwhile pursuit, though I must say, I agree with His Grace to some extent.”

“I suppose most gentlemen would, as it falls to your sex to protect mine from all the unpleasant things in life.” She batted her eyes at him in such a way that made Luca wonder if she mocked him, or perhaps the role of men as protectors of innocent maidens.

“I would