A Companion for the Count: A Regency Romance by Britton, Sally (open ebook TXT) 📕

to him, pulling her shawl tighter. “You are a handsome man, my lord. But everyone’s appearance only improves with a cheerful countenance. You always appear solemn. Is there anything that makes your heart lighter?”

When he did not immediately answer, Emma sighed. “Please think on it. Now, if you will excuse me, I had better return to Lady Josephine.” She started to curtsy, but he took a step toward her with a hand raised.

“Wait, Miss Arlen. Please. I am lost in these matters. I am not certain what to do next.”

“You aren’t?” She blinked at him, surprised. “You are to ignore Lady Josephine and enjoy your time at the castle. That is what is next. And do not fear. I will help where I can.” She bestowed a final smile upon him. “Until dinner, my lord.”

He let her take her leave of him, appearing almost as confused as when they’d first begun their conversation. “Good afternoon, Miss Arlen.”

As Emma walked through the castle, making her way back to Lady Josephine’s sitting room, she couldn’t help thinking on the man. She chewed her bottom lip as she went, a touch of guilt in her heart.

She wasn’t hurting anyone. She was helping. Helping Josephine avoid unwanted attention. Helping the conte improve his chances in English society. Truly, he seemed a kind man. Honest to the point of vulnerability. Intelligent. Educated.

But in great need of a little whimsy in his life. Something beyond the manly pursuits that served more as a way for men to measure themselves against each other rather than offer real enjoyment. Perhaps she should apply to Andrew for ideas. She didn’t know anyone so light-hearted as her cousin.

Then again, Josephine couldn’t really stand more than a quarter hour of Andrew’s company.

Emma’s smile returned with that thought. Perhaps that made Sir Andrew her best possible resource for assisting Lord Atella.

Chapter Ten

Sir Andrew didn’t seem at all amused by Emma’s request. “You are doing what?”

She had ambushed him outside of the billiard room before dinner. They were both in their evening finery, though he had only just replaced his coat. His hair was mussed, artfully so, and his freckles stood out more than usual after his time in the sun the day before. Her cousin always gave off the appearance of being windblown, in Emma’s opinion.

“I am helping Lord Atella become more comfortable in our society,” she repeated, one fist going to her hip. It wasn’t a very ladylike posture, but her cousin hardly cared. “He is a guest in the duke’s household. A foreign diplomat. You must see why this is important.”

Andrew wrinkled his nose. “He is a grown man and a politician. I doubt he needs the help of a woman barely out of girlhood.”

Emma gasped and punched him in the arm with the fist that had been upon her hip. “How dare you? I am one-and-twenty this December, and I am a great deal more mature than you will ever be.”

“Then why do you need my help, little cousin?” he asked, folding his arms and leaning against the doorway to the billiard room. “If you are the paragon of wisdom and maturity.”

She scowled at him but disregarded his mockery. “I do not understand why you are resistant. You care about the duke, don’t you?” Emma asked, poking her finger into his chest.

For the first time, Andrew appeared thoughtful. “Yes. I respect His Grace, especially for all he’s done for you and then for me when my father died. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just told you.” She huffed and dug the finger a little deeper into his chest. The thick coats men wore likely gave him too much padding to make it uncomfortable. Pity. “We want to give Lord Atella a favorable impression of English Society. We want His Grace to be a successful host to an important foreign guest. Some of our ways are strange to him. Will you help me or not?”

The considering stare her cousin fixed her with made Emma shift away, somewhat uncomfortably. If Andrew knew this had anything to do with Josephine, he would outright refuse his help just to antagonize the duke’s eldest daughter. If he suspected it had something to do with Lord Atella finding a wife, Andrew might laugh at her and walk away. He was of the opinion no man should marry before the age of forty.

“Very well. Atella seems a good enough fellow. I’ll do what I can during my visit to make him feel welcome.”

“Good.”

“Why aren’t you pestering Simon about this?” he asked, standing upright and brushing off his sleeves. “Shouldn’t the duke’s heir be the one taking this much of an interest in their guest?”

“I am certain Simon is under his father’s direction. He likely is more focused on the political aspects of Lord Atella’s visit.” And Simon wouldn’t humor her the way her cousin did.

“Do you think we could go to dinner now?” Andrew gestured down the hall. “Or do you intend to starve me by keeping me out in the hall?”

Emma looped her arm through his. “I am not without mercy, dear cousin. Let us go to our meal.” They were nearly to the parlor, talking of other things, when Josephine turned a corner ahead of them. She looked beautiful as ever, with her hair piled high and flowers peeping out from her curls.

Andrew stiffened when Josie joined them on Emma’s free side, but he didn’t do more than nod a greeting to her.

Honestly, these two. Emma refrained from making the comment out loud, but only just. Her two dearest friends always being at odds made it difficult to enjoy herself with them. All she could do was ignore the tense atmosphere they created.

“Has your father finalized his plans for the harvest races?” Emma asked, knowing the subject would please both of them.

Josephine’s posture relaxed, and she released a light laugh. “I believe he has spoken to the squire and the innkeeper, and the orders have gone