A Companion for the Count: A Regency Romance Britton, Sally (smart ebook reader TXT) 📖

Though not the most diplomatic of answers, given Josephine knew nothing of the ambassador’s feelings on the subject, at least it was honest.

Emma watched Mr. Gardiner and Alice step further away, still studying the plants with interest. She couldn’t help her amusement as she noted, “Those two could spend all day discussing flowers and butterflies in terms most of us would not understand.”

“Indeed. Thank goodness they found each other.” Josephine grinned in their direction and then pointed down the path. “Let us continue. Perhaps they will notice and rejoin us, but I rather think they will like being left to themselves.”

The conte’s eyebrows raised as he looked from Josephine to Emma. “They are unmarried. Is it done, to leave the two of them alone?”

“You will find all manner of rules in English Society are only followed when it is convenient,” Josephine answered primly, her eyes twinkling. “And they are to marry this coming Sunday. I imagine a few moments to themselves would be appreciated.”

The conte appeared to think on this for a moment, though he continued walking with them. “You are pleased by their match, true?”

“Yes.” Josephine kept her hands at her side as she walked, her chin up and posture regal. “They complement each other nicely.”

They said nothing for a time, the man walking in silence between the two women. Emma tried to study the conte from the corner of her eye. If he hoped to catch Josephine’s interest, he did not appear to know how to go about such a thing. Over the years, Emma had seen a number of admirers seek Josephine’s approval.

None had ever held themselves quite so stiffly in her presence.

Though the duke’s daughter held no interest in the ambassador as a suitor, the duke would wish their guest to be comfortable. With her promise to assist Josephine foremost upon her mind, Emma took it upon herself to guide the conversation.

“Does your estate have gardens, Signore?”

Conte di Atella’s eyes momentarily brightened, though he kept his gaze on the path ahead of them. “Yes. Though they are not like this. They are smaller. Along the hill where my house looks over the valley and the city, Atella. The gardens are walled in, with trees along one side and a fountain in the center. There are more vineyards on my family’s land, all along the hills. It does not rain there so much as in England.”

Emma watched him speak, noting the careful way his lips formed the English words, and that his tone softened somewhat when speaking of his home. As an ambassador, he likely would not see it again for some time. That put her mind on another question.

“Have you family still there, Signore?”

“Sì, I do.” His shoulders relaxed, and he turned to look at her rather than Josephine as he spoke. “My parents are both still there, at the villa. As are my three sisters.”

Emma tried to make eye contact with Josephine. But her friend appeared lost in thought again, not attending to the conversation. “Your parents are both living?” she asked, not bothering to hide her surprise. “I assumed, since your title is conte, that your father had passed it to you.”

His shoulders stiffened again, and his expression closed once more. “My father holds no title. I am the first of my line conferred the great honor, by the king himself, when he gave me the role of ambassador for our people.”

The stern tone he used had apparently roused Josephine from her thoughts, and she cast a swift, confused look to Emma before speaking. “The first to bear your title? Really?”

Emma glowered at Josephine. Her response did nothing to soften the man, who likely found the question impertinent. Emma hastened to speak. “That is a very great honor and responsibility. Titles are so rarely conferred in our modern era. At least here in England.”

The ambassador nodded tightly. The newness of his rank appeared to make him uncomfortable, and Emma could not blame him. Bloodlines and ancient nobility were everything in the courts of Europe. A newly made nobleman didn’t have the pedigree most expected of one in his position. But then, most of Europe’s monarchies had changed or been challenged during Napoleon’s reign. Establishing new noble lines in many old countries had likely occurred out of necessity.

Josephine shrugged one shoulder. “My family has possessed Montfort and its titles since the fourteenth century.” She apparently caught the somewhat aggravated glare Emma sent her direction, as she hurried on to say, “But they were only earls at first, and the title passed through one female line.”

Why had Josephine allowed herself flights of fancy in the conte’s company? Emma knew well enough that Josephine possessed a great deal of finesse in social matters, if not political, and usually wielded her status as a duke’s daughter with grace.

Emma’s glare must have pulled her friend back to her senses.

Josephine tilted her chin upward and made a stronger effort to keep her attention on the man standing between them. “That is all ancient history, of course. Lord Atella, you must tell me about your sisters. Are they all younger than you? Are any of them my age?” She laughed and put a hand to her chest, perhaps wishing to remind the Italian lord that nearly a decade separated them in age.

Emma barely kept from groaning aloud. The next several weeks—nay, the next three months—would prove challenging if the conte had any romantic intentions toward the duke’s eldest daughter.

Chapter Five

The day after the disastrous walk through the gardens, which had ended shortly after the ambassador revealed he had three younger sisters, Emma entered the library alone.

Every morning, Josephine kept her grandmother company in the dowager’s apartments. Though Emma accompanied her friend to most of her lessons and entertainments, she did not mind missing the opportunity to sit beneath the dowager duchess’s eye for an hour or more for instruction. In recent years, she and the dowager had learned they had a common taste