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

“Miss Sharpe’s wedding to Mr. Gardiner.” Josephine’s pacing came to a halt, and her expression softened. “Theirs is a beautiful love story.”

The moment of wistful longing took them both, as Emma could not deny how she felt about what their two friends had found together. Yet Emma was as unlikely to marry for love as the duke’s daughters, given her place as ward, and her substantial inheritance.

Josephine collapsed into a chair with a sigh. “That is as far as we have planned, isn’t it?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes. That is all we have at present.” Emma easily found her smile and folded up the itinerary. “Shall I give it to the conte after dinner?”

“Do, please.” Josephine looked up at the clock above her mantel. “We have to go down soon.”

Emma rose from her place and held her hand out to Josephine. “Why not now? There is no use sitting here imagining the worst when we could simply get on with things.”

“Must you always be so wise? If you didn’t laugh and tease so much, I should think you a woman of fifty rather than twenty.” Josephine took Emma’s hand and allowed her friend to drag her upward.

“I am remarkably wise, and a great deal older than you are.”

“Ten months older,” Josephine said, playfully bumping her shoulder against Emma’s as they walked out of the bedroom into the corridor.

“Yes. But those ten months make all the difference.” Emma flipped open her fan ahead of her and put her nose in the air, making Josephine giggle.

Even when Emma came of age and obtained her inheritance, she could not imagine leaving Josephine. They were loyal friends and sisters by choice, though not by birth. After Josephine married, things would change. Emma would have fortune enough to live comfortably in a cottage for the rest of her days, if she wished. If her parents hadn’t been in that carriage accident, had lived to raise her in their home instead of the duke’s, no doubt they would find that a sorry ending for her.

The idea of settling somewhere in the country, alone, held little appeal. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up a busybody spinster in Bath, gossiping at the water pumps. Emma preferred the cities of England to the countryside. If the duke and duchess did not entertain at the castle as often as they did, things would be rather dull.

Few members of the British upper classes and nobility had reason to host parties and political gatherings as frequently as the duke. His position in Society and in Parliament kept him busier than anyone else in the kingdom. Once Emma left his household, her life would most assuredly turn quieter.

Unless she married someone of political or social significance.

Emma snorted, making Josephine turn to her.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. I was only thinking.” Emma waved her friend’s concern aside and tried to do the same for her thoughts. Few gentlemen looked twice in her direction, given they thought her position with the family one of employment. Which she preferred, if only to keep fortune-hunters at bay.

Josephine nodded somewhat distractedly and went back to her own thoughts.

Once Emma gained her independence, her time in the duke’s circles would dwindle. She would settle firmly in the middle classes and be lucky to marry a gentleman who leased a house in London every other Season.

They had come to the drawing room the family frequented before meals. When Josephine hesitated on the carpet, her eyes darting to the footmen waiting for her signal to open the door, Emma gently prodded her forward.

“Come on, Josie. Let’s see if the conte is the sort of man to arrive early, promptly, or last of all.” Then Emma gave the nod to the servants, and they immediately drew the doors open.

They entered the drawing room, and the conte with his secretary stood up the moment they saw the ladies.

“Early,” Josephine muttered from the corner of her mouth.

Emma smothered a smile as they curtsied to the Italians.

* * *

The first evening in the duke’s castle passed slowly and somewhat uncomfortably for Luca. Despite his work in politics, finding himself in a new place with new and unknown people always meant a period of adjustment. He had yet to properly determine the motivations of the people around him, or to understand the things which they held important and in esteem.

While his peers might think politics dull, Luca never tired of sharpening his mental acuity through discourse and debate. The trick was to engage in conversations, even with those who disagreed with him, in a way that made the topics interesting rather than inflammatory and lively rather than heated.

Before he could enjoy that aspect of his time in the duke’s castle, he had to understand the other players in the game of political hospitality.

Over dinner, he sat at the right hand of the duchess.

“You were in Spain before you came to England, were you not?” the duchess asked him, her sharp blue eyes taking his measure. “I have not visited the Continent in some time, but I still have friends in the Spanish court.”

That opened the first conversation, giving him insight into the duchess’s world. They discussed his acquaintances there, found several in common, and then the duchess confessed her love of architecture.

Luca brightened at that change in topic. Here was a chance to speak on something personal to the duchess. “Ah, yes. I understand that much of the castle’s current design is owed to your creativity, Your Grace. The outer structure is especially magnificent.”

Genuine delight touched her features. “The duke’s late father had drawn up the initial plans, but I was quite pleased when His Grace put the finalization of the design in my hands. Aside from my family, this castle is my greatest work.”

Some would deem her emphasis on family sentimental, but the warmth in her eyes as she looked down the table to her husband wasn’t something easily feigned.

Across the table from him sat the companion, Miss Arlen. She chose that