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

“I thought he was to return to Austria after the Congress of Aachen,” Luca growled, reaching for the letter. He had a counterpart at that congress sending him letters and newspapers as representatives from other nations discussed what to do about the allied troops in France.

“Not until December. He is coming from Brussels—the congress there is ended—and will spend Christmas with the tsar in Venice. You know how it will be. He will spend all the time gathering information to present against unified Italian states.” Torlonia started pacing while Luca read the report. “We must go to London.”

Luca’s head jerked up. “London? Parliament is not yet in session.”

“I know that,” Torlonia barked. “I am not a simpleton. But communication is easier there, and faster. I have it through my sources that Matternich will send a representative to begin the work of convincing the British to call another meeting with Spain, to speak of forcing King Ferdinand to change the constitution or give up his rights to his Austrian cousins.”

Luca dropped the letter on his desk. It contained the suppositions Torlonia shared, as well as information that the Prussian court supported Austrian rule over all of Italy.

“It cannot be as dire as you seem to think,” Luca said, frowning at the paper. “We have heard nothing distressing about Austria’s claims from our own court. Things move slowly. There is time to understand more.”

“Time?” Torlonia froze on the spot. “You speak of time as though we are wealthy with it—but do you remember how quickly France swallowed most of Europe? Of course not—you were a mere boy. Hiding with monks in the country.” Torlonia shook his head, his shoulders falling. “We must go to London, at once. We can leave now and have our luggage sent after. The duke will understand. In London, we will be better positioned to keep watch over this situation.”

“It can wait,” Luca repeated, though without conviction.

“His Majesty the King would not want you to sit idly in the country when you could move forward, when you could take action. Parliament will not convene until January, yes, but there are members who are there now.” Torlonia took on a pleading tone, then reached into his coat and withdrew another folded piece of paper. “And there is this.”

With misgiving, Luca took the paper from him and opened it. “What is this?”

“This is a letter from a friend in Ferdinand’s court.” Torlonia lifted his chin into the air. “There are questions that have arisen about your suitability for your role.”

“Why would such questions come about?” Luca asked, reading a list of rumors about himself that made his temperature rise. “They say I do nothing? That I am spending my time as a youth—frivolously wasting the king’s coin?” Luca lifted his eyes to Torlonia. “Who would dare say such lies? I have worked every day since my foot touched English soil to see to our country’s needs.”

Torlonia said nothing, but there was a gleam in his eye. He had triumphed, Luca realized, presenting the argument that would most efficiently make Luca see things his way. The secretary had been present when men of greater standing had questioned Luca’s suitability in the role of ambassador due to his age and his lack of experience in the political arena of their nation.

If the same men continued to vent doubts when Luca was not there to defend himself, the king might well decide to recall him.

“We must go to London,” Luca murmured, a weight pressing upon his chest. “I will inform the duke—”

Nothing could have delighted Torlonia more, given his sudden and rapid speech. “I have already told him and sent for your horse. Bruno is preparing your things now.”

Luca looked up, meeting the secretary’s eyes. “You did what?” he asked, standing. “You would presume to do such a thing before you even informed me of the circumstances?”

The older man’s cheeks turned red. “I knew how it would be. You are young, Signore, but you are not stupid.”

Something felt wrong about the circumstances, about rushing away, and it was not only the knowledge that he must leave Emma behind.

Leaving her with such uncertainty between them could well end everything—their friendship and the potential for so much more between them. Torlonia had overstepped, and Luca would make his secretary and himself look foolish if he did not leave that very day. Torlonia had seen to that by announcing their departure to all in the castle.

“I must write a letter first.”

The door to Luca’s room opened, and Bruno came out, holding a saddle bag over one arm and Luca’s riding clothes over the other. The elder man moved with haste, his face pale. “È tutto pronto, mio ​​Signore.”

Torlonia gestured to Bruno. “Yes, get dressed at once. You may write your letter in London. I will dress and meet you in the grand hall. I am certain His Grace will be waiting to bid you farewell.” The secretary, all pomposity restored, turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Luca could not keep the duke waiting. He looked to Bruno, noting the sheen of sweat on the other man’s forehead. “What is happening, Bruno? Why the haste?”

The valet shook his head. “It is nothing. Here, let us hurry to have you ready.”

Rather than distress the old man by making him wait, Luca dressed with his help. He kept composing a letter to Emma in his head, but there were no simple words for what he felt—for what he must explain—and how he hoped she might come to see things between them as he did. What could he possibly do—how could he convey everything to her in the midst of this uncalled-for haste?

Why was Torlonia so insistent they leave right away? The secretary had thought visiting the duke would demonstrate status and elitism. Surely he had to know that Luca’s friendship with a high-powered member of the English nobility meant good things for their kingdom. Practically fleeing