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

When Josephine had made introductions an hour before, Emma had studied the man closely. He wasn’t so tall as the duke or Simon, but his average height still made him taller than her. His eyes were striking, too. They were brown, but darker than hers. And his hair was as black as his coat and hat.

His angular jaw and wide-set cheekbones made his face rather interesting and, yes, handsome. But there was something about him, and it wasn’t just how stiffly he sat on the terrace. An air of seriousness enclosed him. He hardly appeared capable of smiling, let alone laughing. Were all Italians so somber?

At that moment, he looked up toward the fountain, his gaze meeting hers. Catching her scrutiny, his eyes widened a moment before his eyebrows knitted together.

Emma, not one to allow anyone to intimidate her, tilted her chin upward and smiled. Not a flirtatious smile, but an expression of easy happiness. Then she pointedly turned her attention back to Josephine. “He caught me looking.”

“Oh, bother.” Josephine shoved the book back into Emma’s hands. “And now he’s coming this way.”

Indeed, the man had excused himself from the duke’s company and now walked across the short-cropped grass and paving stones to their perch on the fountain’s edge.

They rose when he came within bowing distance, returning his courtesy by slightly bending their knees.

When the Sicilian ambassador spoke, his words had a lilting quality to them that made them charming. “Ladies, I have told His Grace that I find the gardens quite beautiful. I understand there are some statues here that are excellent copies of the ancient statues in Rome. I hope it will be possible to tour the gardens soon.”

“Yes, of course.” Josephine hardly smiled, wearing her most polite social mask as she always did when she entered an uncomfortable situation. “I believe we planned a tour of the gardens for tomorrow afternoon, after you are rested from your journey.”

“That would be excellent, yes.” He glanced briefly at Emma before focusing his attention on Josephine again. “I must express my gratitude for your efforts on my behalf. The duke said there are many entertainments planned.”

The man did not smile even once, though he was all politeness.

What a shame such a handsome man, with such a charming accent, would prove so excessively dull.

Josephine suddenly hooked her arm through Emma’s and started prattling. “Yes, my dear Emma and I have spent a great deal of time planning a welcome for you, my lord. If you like, we can present you with a full itinerary tomorrow morning. I know my father will need some of your time to discuss the relationship between our two countries, but between those important conversations, we will ensure that you do not grow bored.”

“Thank you for your kind consideration, my lady.” He bowed again.

Emma had the distinct impression that he actively avoided looking at her. Poor Josephine. If the man dedicated such focus to her in a simple conversation, Emma had little chance of distracting him should his attentions grow too pointed.

Nevertheless, she had promised her friend to try.

“Conte Atella, what is something you hope to accomplish during your time in England?” An ambassador would show an interest in discussing politics, surely.

He tore his stare away from Josephine to meet Emma’s bright smile, and she saw the way his eyes widened slightly again. Was he not used to young ladies smiling at him? It was no wonder, given the way he kept his expression as inscrutable as a sphinx.

“Besides the betterment of the relationship between our nations?” he asked, his black eyebrows lifting.

Emma clasped her hands together at her waist, refusing to look away from his deep brown eyes. “Yes. Let us assume that goal is achieved, thanks to your great talent at negotiation. What more would you like to do?”

He stared at her another moment, then put his hand to his chin as he considered her. It took a great deal of control to maintain her patient smile before he answered, “I should like to see a play by William Shakespeare. I have read his work in Italian translations and the original English, of course, but I have seen none of his plays performed in his native language.”

Emma’s lips parted in surprise. She had expected him to say something more about trade negotiations, or meeting an important member of Society, or a dozen other things that would fall under a political classification.

“Oh, there is at least one performed every Season in London,” Josephine said airily. “Emma and my mother always attend them. What did you see last spring, Emma? All of his plays blend together for me, except for that horridly long tragic one wherein everyone dies.”

“Hamlet, you mean,” Emma said, somewhat absently. Then she returned her gaze to the count. “Last year we attended a performance of The Tempest. Are you familiar with that one?”

“Ah, the one on the island. Yes. It is one of my favorites.”

And then he did something that quite changed Emma’s initial opinion of him.

He smiled. A small, polite smile. But it changed enough about him, making a brief glimmer of light appear in his dark eyes, to make her reconsider her initial impression of him.

Before she could respond to his words, or the smile, Josephine tugged Emma down into another curtsy. “It was lovely to speak to you, Your Excellency. But you must excuse us now. Emma and I have to see to this evening’s entertainment, you see.”

The smile vanished, replaced with an austere mask. “Of course, Lady Josephine.”

Josephine dragged Emma behind her, walking at a brisk pace for the door into the conservatory. “Quickly, quickly,” she muttered in a soft, urgent tone. “I think we slipped away before Papa noticed. He was speaking to Mama.” She tugged Emma behind a tall pedestal upon which a large fern rested, then peered around it. “There. I think we made good our escape, and now we needn’t see him again until