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

moment to speak, one corner of her mouth turned upward. “I love the little touches other members of the family contributed over the years. For instance”—she gestured up to the ceiling—“His Grace is responsible for an entertaining tradition in this room, with the tiles above us.”

Luca politely turned his attention upward to the gold-painted ceiling, noting that someone had sculpted each tile into an intricate floral design. “They are fascinating, and quite beautiful. What is the tradition, Miss Arlen?”

“I am not permitted to say; it is something of a game with His Grace. There may soon come an evening that you learn of it.” She shared a knowing glance with the duchess. The higher-ranking woman returned the smile with an affection Luca could not help but notice.

The companion held favor with more of the family than Lady Josephine.

Lady Josephine sat quietly most of the evening at her father’s left hand. Signor Torlonia sat on her other side, and between Luca and his secretary sat a younger daughter of the household. Lady Isabelle. On the duke’s right hand sat his son, Lord Farleigh, the youngest daughter Lady Rosalind, then Miss Arlen. That made the table unbalanced, but Luca’s first evening meal was informal. At least by ducal standards. Which meant not requiring an additional male guest to even the numbers.

The family had an easiness about them, a kindness in the way they spoke to one another, that he hadn’t found common among the upper classes in England. It almost set him at ease. As a stranger, however, he maintained his reserve.

After the meal ended, the ladies left to prepare for the musical portion of the evening. The duke gestured for Luca to take the vacant chair on his left, where his eldest daughter had sat.

The men spoke of inconsequential things. The meal, the roads from London, and the wine they had enjoyed with dinner. Lord Farleigh, though younger than Luca, held himself with the same confidence his father possessed. As heir to the title, Lord Farleigh would be an important person to come to know, too. The duke represented the past and present of England and English sensibilities, but his son would carry England into the future one day.

“Do you ever tire of traveling, Lord Atella?” the young man asked during a lull in the conversation. “You and my mother were discussing Spain before. I have never visited that country.”

“It is a beautiful land, wherein many cultures have mixed to create cities of vibrance and color.” Luca had seen mosques and cathedrals with histories of being built and destroyed and rebuilt every time one force or another conquered Spain. “I grew up in the Kingdom of Naples, which then joined the Kingdom of Sicily after the wars ended.” He waved away the turbulent history of his people before anyone could remark upon that disturbing history. “All I ever wanted to do, as a boy and as I grew into adulthood, was travel outside of my land. When the opportunity finally came, I was fortunate that someone in His Majesty’s court knew of my desire.”

The duke sent his son a significant glance. “And that is the duty of those who regularly attend court functions. Know the people around you, their talents and desires, to fit them properly for service to king and country.”

They rose from the table shortly after that conversation; the duke led the way to the music room where the women in the family waited to perform. The governess for the younger girls was present, sitting in a chair near the instrument to help her charges turn pages. The younger daughters both played pieces written by Italian composers, a nod to Luca’s homeland.

They were quite proficient for girls of their age. The melodies were bright and cheerful. Then Miss Arlen went to the instrument, showing the skill befitting a young lady of her standing in the household, and finally Lady Josephine played a piece by an Austrian composer.

When the duke dismissed his youngest daughters for the evening, the rest of the party adjourned to a sitting room already lit with candles and lamps.

The evening passed in conversation regarding Luca’s travels, with the duke and duchess as the primary audience. Lady Josephine and her companion said little, though Luca caught the eyes of the latter upon him. Measuring him, perhaps, for her mistress.

That evening, in the sitting room adjoining his bedroom, Luca sat at the writing desk at his disposal. He rehearsed all he had observed about the duke’s family. He made notes under each household member’s name in a little book he kept on his person. He had filled other pages with notes containing English idioms and phrases with which he was unfamiliar and notes about English sentiments regarding trade with his kingdom—and dozens of other things he needed to remember or learn.

At the top of one page, in his native tongue, he wrote: The Courtship of Lady Josephine. Then he tapped the desk’s surface and lifted his gaze from the paper to stare out the window into the night.

He had never courted anyone before. Despite his age.

At eight and twenty, he could look back in time and remember the girls and ladies he had met who stirred some interest in his mind if not his heart. But he had never acted on any of those fleeting moments of curiosity. His homeland had been volatile, his place within it uncertain, for too long.

His father and mother had sent him to a monastery when he was fifteen, when Napoleon had crowned himself king and his stepson the viceroy of Italy. Luca’s sisters had been sent to a nunnery, tucked away safely from the political strife his parents faced alone.

Their family had held important positions in the Duchy of Basilicata for over two hundred years, and the world at large had been uncertain what Napoleon would do with those who held high places in the governments he usurped.

Upon the darkness outside, Luca’s memory painted a scene from his youth, when his father