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

Please don’t tell me you need a second for a duel. It’s already one o’clock in the morning, and that would give me only a few hours to gather the essentials.”

Luca froze in the middle of the room and blinked. “A duel? No. Are those not illegal?”

“They are highly illegal, but that doesn’t seem to stop anyone.” Sir Andrew dropped back into the chair and stretched his legs out before him. “Have a seat, Atella. Might as well be comfortable when you collect on favors.”

“I am sorry it is so late.” Luca looked at the clock. He hadn’t realized what he was doing when he left his suite of rooms to search out the baronet. But he’d worked himself into something of a frenzy in an attempt to determine what he had done wrong.

“Usually, people in this country knock before they enter another person’s bedchamber.” Sir Andrew hunkered down in his chair again, folding his arms over his chest and directing his stare into the fire.

Luca went to a chair and sat, then rubbed at his face. “I understand, and I apologize. I have not been thinking clearly since dinner ended.”

Sir Andrew came and went as a guest nearly every week, which apparently no one found unusual. As far as Luca could tell, the baronet was considered as much a part of the family as Emma. Emma, who still hadn’t told Luca the full nature of her relationship to the ducal family. Emma, who had taken to avoiding him, going so far as to unexpectedly enter a room if she saw him approach from the other side of a long corridor. Emma who—Luca strongly suspected—had used secret passageways to completely disappear from his sight.

She had been all politeness in company but had ceased to even try to hold a private conversation with him.

“I have done something wrong,” Luca said, hardly aware of how long the two of them had sat silent before the low-burning fire in the hearth. “But I do not know what.”

A laugh and then a hasty clearing of his throat was Sir Andrew’s first response. “And you think I can help? Why? I am not involved in politics at the same scale as you are. My advice holds little weight. The duke would surely be a better advisor.”

The end of the month drew near, and October had grown cold and damp. The hiss and crack of a log in the fire momentarily stole Luca’s attention as he tried to form his explanation. “It has nothing to do with politics.”

“What, then? You will excuse me for saying so, Lord Atella, but you are well-traveled and highly educated. What problem could you possibly face that I would be suited to solving?”

“I have done something wrong,” Luca repeated, but raised his head as he added, “and I need your help because Emma is involved in the situation.”

Sir Andrew’s gaze swung from the fire to meet Luca’s, a sudden blaze of interest in their depths. He sat up in his chair, his feet squarely beneath him, and narrowed his eyes at Luca. “What do you mean, Emma is involved? What has my cousin to do with anything?”

There was no mistaking the protectiveness in Sir Andrew’s tone, and that did more to reassure Luca than he could express. He had come to the right person. “Whatever I did has caused Emma to withdraw her friendship from me. To some degree. She isn’t the same as she was before the harvest market.”

“Why are you calling her Emma? Did she give you leave to use her Christian name?” Sir Andrew demanded.

Luca leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his temple where a fierce tempo began to beat, threatening to drown out rational thought. “Yes, I have her permission to use her Christian name. We are—or were—friends. Friends with enough in common that proper address felt strained rather than necessary. Sir Andrew, please do not look as though you wish to commit murder. It is disturbing and makes explanation difficult.”

The baronet didn’t appear repentant but grumbled instead. “This is the first I’ve heard of your friendship. Though my cousin did seem concerned for you when you first arrived. She even asked me to help if you needed anything.”

“She did?” Luca couldn’t keep the cheer out of the question. “That long ago?”

“A month is not that long, Atella.” Sir Andrew rose and took up a log in the curved bin beside his fireplace, then added it to the low blaze. “You need to start at the beginning, I think. If you and my cousin are such friends, why are you here claiming wrongdoing?”

“Because she will not speak to me,” Luca said, trying not to sound too pathetic. “We have always spoken freely to each other, on many subjects, but for days she has avoided me. Are there secret passages in this castle?”

Sir Andrew quirked an eyebrow upward in a manner very similar to his cousin. “Secret passages? You think Emma is using secret passages to avoid you? Have you heard the term irrational before, my lord?”

Luca threw his hands up and rose from his chair. He paced the length of the carpet before the hearth. “I am in earnest, Sir Andrew. I grew close to Emma. We spoke of things in a way I have never experienced with another person.” He kept pacing, though his steps slowed, as did his words. “She is a woman of remarkable intelligence. She grasps new concepts with speed, and her conversations are always agile. Fluid, in fact. She has a natural understanding of topics, and the ability to discuss an opinion with reserve even if she disagrees with it.”

Quiet descended, the only sound Luca’s footfalls and the snapping fire.

Until Sir Andrew muttered, “Confound it, Atella. You’re in love with my cousin.”

Luca stopped his pacing and turned slowly on one heel, pivoting to face the baronet. Sir Andrew wore a look of mingled shock and amusement. While Luca could appreciate the latter, the former made him draw up proudly. “A