A Companion for the Count: A Regency Romance, Britton, Sally [books to read for self improvement .txt] 📗

“It isn’t finished,” Josephine admitted softly. “It’s barely started, but the words are coming quickly and are better than I expected.” Her cheeks took on a rosy hue, visible even in the yellow-blue light of the stained glass. “I have told no one else about this.”

Rather than admonish her friend or point out all the ways in which writing a book might prove more painful than fulfilling, Emma forced herself to be cheerful for her friend’s sake. “That is marvelous, Josie. I did not know you wanted to be an author. I, who have known you nearly your entire life! How did you keep such a secret?”

“You know how much I enjoy reading novels, and so many of them have endings that I cannot like. Usually because there is someone who does not get their happy ending, or I wish to know more about what happens next. I started jotting down my own ideas in my diary some months ago about how I’d like this or that story to have one more chapter, a slightly different ending.” She lowered her eyes to the floor between them, her expression solemn. “Then I started writing more. And I worried someone would find out and tease me for it. Or tell me I had no business writing fiction. I am a duke’s daughter. It is beneath me.” One corner of her mouth tilted upward, like a sadly curling vine. “But I enjoyed it. And when I found this place, I thought it perfect. Tucked away and secret, I can write here without fear of discovery. I can almost forget I’m Lady Josephine.”

Emma’s heart went out to her friend. “Are you going to try to publish your stories?”

“Oh,” Josephine laughed, a sad squeak. “I haven’t any ambition in that direction. You know as well as I do that my grandmother would have fits, and I cannot think Papa would approve. It is best I keep it to myself. But you are my dearest friend—almost a sister.”

Emma reached out to put her hand on Josephine’s knee. “Thank you for telling me. If you ever want someone to read your work…” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

“Maybe when I finish,” Josephine said, her expression more cheerful than before. “Thank you, Emma. It is a relief to tell someone.”

“I am glad to finally know. I cannot think of any secret you have kept from me before.” They had told each other everything, large and small, for more than a decade.

That knowledge made Emma squirm somewhat. “I might need to speak to you about something, too. Not a secret. But—well.” She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. “The ambassador. I think we may have been too severe upon him.”

Josephine leaned back against the stone wall, her nose wrinkling. “I have seen nothing to change my opinion of him. Even that business with the Italian and Sicilian food he presented. Mama thought it charming, but I think he meant to draw attention to himself rather than do the family any kind of honor.”

“That isn’t true at all.” Emma stared at Josephine in shock. “I told you how much it meant to him, to share those traditions with everyone.”

“I believe he had good intentions, but really.” Josephine smoothed the fabric over her knees, not quite meeting Emma’s shocked gaze. “He wanted all eyes on him and all the words of praise that came with debasing himself to cook for his hostess. Most would consider it indecent.”

“Indecent? He was most humble and honorable in every word he said. In every gesture. Josephine, you cannot really think that—” Emma broke off at the beginning of her indignant tirade when she saw her friend peering up at her with a narrow-eyed look. She swallowed back what she had been prepared to say, the words of defense that had fallen into line like willing soldiers to do battle on behalf of Luca.

Josephine’s eyebrows raised. “Go on. What else have you to say about His Excellency?”

With her stomach plummeting dangerously toward the floor, Emma closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. “I only meant to say you could be a little kinder to him. He is not an ogre.” In fact, Luca possessed a dignity and grace that marked him as a man of honor and true nobility. He was more like a knight errant than an ogre.

“I never thought he was. I only thought him too old and an unsuitable match.” The light and indifferent tone did little to calm Emma’s unease. “Unsuitable for me.”

“Only because you do not know him,” Emma said, her eyes still closed. Picturing Luca as he had looked with his arms covered in flour up to his elbows, his smile relaxed and genuine…endearing.

The firmness of Josephine’s reply provided little comfort. “I am not ready for courtship and marriage.”

“I cannot like misleading him and making him believe that if he does what I say he may win you as a bride—”

“Why not?” Josephine’s tone had changed to one of challenge, and Emma opened her eyes to see her friend leaning forward with a strange expression—a knowing look—in the way she stared back.

Emma wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, though she had been perfectly comfortable in the room moments before. “Because he is a good man. He is my friend.” She had imagined what might happen should Luca learn her ruse. If he discovered how she had agreed to help Josephine escape any and all attachment to him, it would hurt him and end their newly formed friendship. Josephine knew of Emma’s plan to distract the conte with her pretended help.

“As am I. And I was your friend first. Which is why you ought to confide in me.” Josephine flicked her hand dismissively. “There is more to it, Emma. Isn’t there?”

“I do not like to lie,” Emma insisted, hearing the uncertainty in her voice. “It is dishonorable.”

“All right. Stop, then. Give him no more information on how best to win me. I will take