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

tried to picture a garden full of color and life was the autumn leaves of gold surrounding Emma’s lovely form.

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and offered a prayer—one of many, pleading for mercy shown to him for his foolishness, and asking that no matter the outcome of his circumstances, that Emma find happiness.

A soft tap on the ballroom floor made Luca straighten, fixing his coat by pulling on its hem. A workman might have returned. Or perhaps Bruno had come searching him out.

He turned, chin up and expression set to one of solemnity.

The figure on the opposite side of the room didn’t belong to a man at all, but to a familiar woman. He knew her at once, dressed as she was in a deep green traveling gown with pink flowers wreathing her hat. She took another step, hesitant in the room lit only by the late-morning sun.

“Luca?”

He took one step toward Emma, and then another, and then he crossed the room with as much speed as he could. She met him halfway, her face turned up to his with roses in her cheeks. He extended his hands, and she placed hers in his without hesitation.

No matter his misgivings, there was only one correct response to her sudden appearance.

Luca drew her gently to him, hands clasping hers, and bent to kiss her. Emma met him halfway then, too. Her lips were soft as petals, her scent fresh as a spring rain, and it took everything in him not to wrap her in his arms and keep her there forevermore. When they parted, it was only for him to dip his head to kiss her anew, at a better angle than before, with a deeper token of his affection given.

She sighed and leaned into him when he tried to move away, and what could he do but give in a third time?

They had to part, though. Emma didn’t know the mess of things. She needed to know the precariousness of his position.

“The duke had a letter,” she said, staring up at him with her gentle brown eyes. “Torlonia betrayed you.”

For a moment, he stared at her in disbelief. Their first words to each other in over a month, he realized, were not what he would have expected. “Then you must know what that means for me. For us.”

The gentleness turned into frustration. “Luca, I’m not going to give you up. Do not ask me to.”

“How did you come to be here?” he asked, ignoring the unpleasantness for the moment. Touching her cheek with one hand. “I only received your letter three days ago.”

“The day after I sent my letter to you, the duke received word from a contact in London. His Grace said you were in a difficult position, and I asked if we could come to offer you our support.” Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “I still cannot believe I asked such a thing of him. He’s the Duke of Montfort, for goodness’ sake.”

“Your guardian,” Luca said quietly. “Who loves you, I think.”

Her smile returned. “Yes, he does. I imagine my own father would have done the same for me. But you must see, Luca—with His Grace’s word added to yours, your king will understand. The duke has written to our king, lodged a formal inquiry with Parliament, written your court, and has invited you to dinner this evening.”

The last of the list made Luca laugh. “This evening? Is the whole family with you?”

Emma shook her head. “Only Simon and Josephine. And me. The rest will come after they have packed up the house for the Season. Luca, everything will turn out as it should. I know it.”

She touched his cheek, her gloved thumb near his lips. Her eyes took in his. “I still have to help you find an English bride, you know.”

Luca laughed and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “I think I have already found one. If she will have me.”

“Englishwomen like to be courted properly before agreeing to marriage,” she said quietly.

“Oh? And what constitutes a proper English courtship?” he asked, his lips hovering near hers again.

“The usual things. Walks in the park. Morning calls. Dancing. Oh, and most importantly…pasta making.”

His laugh barely escaped before she kissed him again.

“I love you, Emma. I hope you have felt the truth of that now.”

“My darling ambassador, I love you, too. With everything I am.”

They left the ballroom to find the duke waiting in the entry hall, along with Simon and Josephine, Bruno standing quietly to one side. He must have brought them to the embassy to find Luca.

“Your Grace.” Luca greeted the duke with a formal bow. “I would like to request permission to court your ward, Miss Emma Arlen.”

The duke turned his attention to Emma. “I will approve the courtship, Lord Atella, though I will be honest with you. Emma has ever been her own woman. It will be her decision if she keeps you or not.”

Emma looped her arm through Luca’s and leaned her head against his shoulder, the open display of affection rather perfect. “I very much expect to keep him, Your Grace.”

They did not leave the embassy until Luca gave them a tour, the duke offering suggestions for security as well as where to find the best-trained staff. Everyone acted as though Luca’s position was assured, and for the first time in weeks, he felt hope that they were right.

“You ought to move forward with all your plans, Atella,” Lord Farleigh said when they stood once more in the empty ballroom. “Hold a ball. Act as though you intend to be here a very long time. I think a statement like that would go a long way to showing both the English court and King Ferdinand’s that you are the right man for the position.”

Luca listened, then gave a slow nod. “That is sound advice. I must consult with my chief advisor, though.” He looked down at Emma, who watched him with one raised eyebrow. “What