A Companion for the Count: A Regency Romance

Luca’s literary foray with Miss Arlen had given him another excuse to speak to her and gain her trust, putting him one step closer to earning Lady Josephine’s interest.
Torlonia stuck his head through the doorway. “Are you finished yet, Signore? Bruno, it cannot take a quarter of an hour to see a man properly turned out for dinner.”
Bruno stopped humming and frowned, but he said nothing. He hadn’t forgiven Torlonia for suggesting Luca replace him with a younger valet.
Luca spoke over his shoulder, not moving from the spot where Bruno had put him. “If you wish me to make a good impression on a duke, whose shoes likely cost more than my entire ensemble, every moment before the mirror counts.” He winked when Bruno glanced at up him, making the old man smile.
Bruno spoke in Italian. “You belong at tables with kings and princes, I promise.” The old man went to a short velvet box and opened it, then selected an emerald stickpin for Luca’s cravat. “The last touch.” He fixed it in place.
With a snort of impatience, Torlonia removed himself from the doorway of the dressing room, backing into the bedroom. “Young men and politics—you are more worried about your appearance than your points of debate.”
“You know that is not true.” Luca nodded his thanks to Bruno, then went out to speak to his secretary. “And I advise you to remember who, here, is the ambassador and who is the secretary. If the king put his confidence in a young man, so too should you.” His words lacked any bite. He had asked for Torlonia to accompany him for a reason.
The older gentleman had successfully navigated a hostile court for years, and he knew more about the history of English trade negotiations with the former Italian Republic than Luca did. If only he had as much faith in Luca as Luca had in his secretary.
Torlonia sighed. “Forgive me, Conte Atella.” He rubbed at his wrinkled forehead. “I know you think part of your work is also to secure an English bride. Care for your appearance is important in this house, at the duke’s table and any other in this country.” Then he fixed Luca with a curious raise of his eyebrows. “Do you think the duke’s daughter has shown an interest in you?”
Luca didn’t allow himself to worry. “It is early in our acquaintance. I do not believe she wishes to come to know me yet, but if I can win the favor of her companion, Miss Arlen, that may help me to win Lady Josephine’s good opinion.”
“I fail to see your reasoning for this, Signore.” Torlonia, a confirmed bachelor, couldn’t possibly understand the way a woman’s mind worked.
“I have three sisters,” Luca reminded him. “If a suitor for the eldest snubbed my younger sisters, he gained favor with none of them. The man who won fair Angelina, who is now my brother-in-law, always had a kind word for the other two. Women trust other women, their friends and sisters, more than they trust any man.”
That bit of explanation did not impress Torlonia, given the way he sighed. “Let us hope you are correct. We must go down to dinner now, Signore.”
They arrived in the sitting room where the family had gathered the previous evening. This time, the duke’s younger daughters were not present. Instead, the duchess introduced him to Mr. and Mrs. Josiah Hepsworth and their daughters, Miss Maria Hepsworth and Miss Hannah Hepsworth.
Lord Farleigh, the duke’s eldest son, had one of his own friends in attendance to create even numbers between the men and women. But Luca barely had time to properly greet the guests before Miss Hepsworth and Miss Hannah stood on either side of him, batting their lashes and tossing blonde curls about as they giggled.
Why they were giggling he could not be certain, except that they seemed to think it would somehow please him.
When it came time to escort the women in to the table, he experienced a moment of hope that his separation from the overly enthusiastic Hepsworth sisters would grant him peace and sensible conversation.
His hope died swiftly when Mrs. Hepsworth, the mother, sat on Luca’s immediate right.
She used one hand to hold her fork delicately and the other to fluff the feather in her turban. “You must tell us all about Italy. Do you go to Venice often? I understand the canals are an incredible sight to see.”
“I have never been to Venice—”
“I have always wanted to see the Sistine Chapel, too. How far is that from Venice?”
“The magnificent chapel is in Rome, madam. They are on opposite sides of the peninsula—”
The woman squawked like an irritated hen. “That cannot be too far. If we planned a trip next summer, I should like to see both.”
Luca winced. “I am certain such a journey could be arranged, especially by boat, but I am afraid not many are permitted into the chapel itself, as it is part of the Vatican.”
“Pish. One only has to make the right friends for such excursions. You have seen the Sistine Chapel, have you not, Your Grace?”
Luca turned to the duchess who sat at the end of the tabled on his left. The regal woman, as beautiful as her daughters with only a hint of maturity in the wrinkles around her eyes, appeared momentarily taken aback. “No, Mrs. Hepsworth. I am afraid I have not had that honor. Of course, I have never ventured all the way to Rome. Monaco is as far east as I have been on the continent.”
Mrs. Hepsworth made a noise of discontent. “What a horrid shame. But then, I am sure nothing abroad rivals the beautiful works and buildings here in England. Westminster Abbey, for example, is a marvel.” She arched her eyebrows at Luca. “Have you visited Westminster Abbey?”
He had finally managed a small bite of food but hastily swallowed it before having much of a chance to diminish its size. “From the outside, yes. I have not yet entered it.”
“And how