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

woman in rose-pink at her side. Miss Arlen. Despite the distance between them, he felt it when their gazes collided. His shoulders fell, his disappointment keen, though ridiculous, he knew. He watched as she lifted one shoulder, tilted her head to the same side. The simple movement conveyed a sympathetic understanding—or so he thought.

No one could read emotion across that much distance. Could they?

He sighed and dropped his head, following the last of Lord Farleigh’s instructions to bring the boat back to the dock. When he finally climbed out, someone handed him his hat and coat. Though the day was cool, his exertion left him uncomfortably warm. He draped the coat over his arm and walked down the boards to shore, where the victorious crew accepted congratulations from the onlookers.

Luca added his praise to others, to men he had met only that morning. Then he came to Sir Andrew, who grinned broadly and put his hand on Luca’s shoulder.

“An excellent race, Atella. You did well enough that I’m surprised you thought yourself unequal to the event. I dare say, should we race again, it is your team that would come out ahead.” The easy way Sir Andrew spoke, his tone friendly rather than boasting, deflated Luca further.

Good form meant accepting a loss graciously. He knew that.

“Thank you, Sir Andrew. I enjoyed the exercise, though I am not certain I will take up the sport any time soon.” He gave a slight bow. “Congratulations on your victory.”

Lady Josephine and Miss Arlen appeared, and Miss Sharpe nodded her own greeting before skirting the knot they formed in search of her betrothed.

Sir Andrew’s demeanor changed the moment the duke’s daughter paused at his side. His grin turned crooked, and he folded his arms over his chest. “Ah, Lady Josephine. I believe you wagered against my win today.”

“Of course I did.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I had high hopes of your pride being lost upon the lake.” She gestured to the water. “But no. You have prevailed, though that overlarge head of yours should have sunk your boat.”

Luca drew back slightly, surprised at the acidic words spoken in such sugared tones. Neither baronet nor lady gave him the barest attention as they lobbed their insults at one another. The noise around them rose as more excited conversation exchanged among other members of the party.

Rather than take offense, the baronet chuckled and spoke louder. “Perhaps it would have, had I not been determined to win merely for the pleasure of you losing a few pence.”

Miss Arlen moved closer to Luca, and he bent toward her when he realized her intention to speak to him without shouting. “Lord Atella, would you help me by the tree a moment?”

Though curious, Luca immediately agreed. He did not even bother taking his leave of Lady Josephine and Sir Andrew. They seemed content to amuse themselves with their witty exchange of words for the moment.

He followed Miss Arlen, noting the way she twirled her parasol upon her shoulder, and caught up to her at the edge of a rug beneath a large tree. Cushions lay about everywhere, and a large bowl with apples and pears set in the center of the carpet. He’d seen her there before the start of the race, too, with other ladies.

“Please, won’t you sit?” Miss Arlen gestured to the rug. “And take some lemonade. Here, I will pour you a glass.” She gestured and a footman appeared, dressed in clothing suitable for working out of doors, though it was impeccably clean. He brought a tray with cups and a large pitcher of lemonade.

The duke’s guests need never want for comfort or convenience, it seemed.

Luca lowered himself to a cushion, dropping his coat beside him and setting his hat atop his head. He accepted the cup from her and drank, the drink sweet and refreshing.

She settled across from him, tucking her legs to one side and adjusting her shawl. “We have a moment to speak in private, Signore, while the others celebrate.”

“Have we a need to speak in private?” he asked, lowering his cup. They had already done so, though quite by accident, a few times already. He sipped at the lemonade thoughtfully.

She pursed her lips and drew her eyebrows down as she studied him. “I think we must. You will forgive me for this observation, Signore, but I must make it. Based upon your actions and gestures, I believe you are attempting to win my lady’s favor.”

Luca nearly choked, lemonade burning the back of his throat, then he forcefully held the cup out toward the servant. The uniformed man hurried to take it, bowing before backing away again. Miss Arlen simply stared at him, one eyebrow arched, not the least distressed by his distress.

“There is no need to deny it,” she said before he could deny her supposition. “I have seen many a man attempt to win her favor. As you have seen, she is not eager to flirt or even entertain suitors. My lady has no wish to take part in courtship with anyone at present.” Miss Arlen appeared most serious and spoke with gentle practicality. “I do not mean any disrespect by telling you this. I only wish to save you the time of pursuing her.”

He looked down at the carpet, then over to the dock where Lady Josephine stood speaking with Miss Sharpe and Mr. Gardiner. And Sir Andrew.

“I am certain your words are kindly meant,” he murmured, then met Miss Arlen’s gaze again. “But I am not dissuaded, Miss Arlen.”

She appeared ready to ask why. Instead, her expression softened, and she released a tired sigh. “Very well, then. If your attentions toward her are honorable, I suppose I must do my part and offer my assistance.”

He put a hand on his knee and leaned toward her, narrowing his eyes. “Your assistance? Miss Arlen, I am not certain what you mean. You cannot try to warn me away with one breath and offer help in the next.”

A bright smile grew upon