Page 11 of Romanced By the Orc

“One hears things, but I try not to set much store by gossip. You were discovered alone? Briefly? Why should either of you be faulted?”

The progress of that ill-fated night with Nigel Halman ran through Diana’s mind like scenes in a novel. They had both attended a rout following a performance ofThe Magic Fluteat His Majesty’s Opera House. Nigel Halman entered the elegantly appointed Mayfair drawing room with Lillian on his arm.

God save her. She’d been bursting with envy at her sister’s good fortune. When it came to Lillian, Diana felt constantly caught between love and jealousy. Was that not how matters usually stood between siblings?

Well into the early hours of the following day, all but the hardiest souls had left the party. At that point, Diana had imbibed two flutes of sparkling wine. She persuaded Nigel to relay his opinion regarding the recent suspension of habeas corpus, an act he warned would have dire consequences. She wandered about the perimeter of the men gathered to listen, itching to add her thoughts while the gents focused on their port. How dare they ignore Nigel! It seemed to Diana that her sister’s intended was the cleverest man in the room and charming besides.

How little she’d known then of the wiles of charming men.

Shame tightened her chest. “We flaunted Society’s rules. That is why I agreed to leave London. The whispers needed to fade away. And my sister required space to breathe.”

“She ended her engagement over the matter, did she not?”

“Lillian discovered that her fiancé’s character was not admirable.”

“I cannot see why this unfortunate fact reflects poorly on your sister. Or you, for that matter.”

“Sweet Albion,” she murmured. “How innocent you are.”

“Innocent?” His eyes widened. “I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of such a thing.”

“I was alone with my sister’s fiancé.”

“Hardly a crime, in my humble and ‘innocent’ opinion.”

“Yet the ugly stories have risen again.”

“How ugly?”

“We were said to harbor an inappropriate affection for one another.”

The entire matter had been pathetic, from Nigel Halman’s sloppy, drunken attempts to steal a kiss to their hostess’s overly dramatic gasp when she witnessed this compromising moment. Diana cast an anxious look at Izzie. The whispers of servants could be every bit as vicious as those of theton. But Izzie merely continued to enjoy her meal and Ollie’s company.

“If I told you I hadn’t heard the gist of this tale, you would rightly mark me as a liar,” Albion said. “Though I only learned of your banishment as of late. This fellow’s behavior was ungentlemanly. Yet you suffer for it.”

He sounded furious, not with her, but on her behalf. Ironically, his anger calmed her. Diana tried a sip of the famous Santea soup. It tasted of ham, mace, aniseed, and cloves, heartier and far tastier than the thin consommé at Lady Talridge’s supper.

“Do not hold yourself accountable for maintaining impossible standards,” he continued. “If I may state so without giving offense.”

“On the contrary, I appreciate your candor. I find it refreshing to meet a gentleman who speaks plainly. I rather like it.” Diana gazed up at him with an intensity that would have surprised her had she seen it reflected in a looking glass. “Since you speak plainly, I shall grant you the same courtesy. I admit I once partook gladly of tittle-tattle. What a cruel and silly moppet! Now, it pains me to say, the rumor has spread beyond whispers at parties and the scandal sheets. It has landed in a respectable gazette of a political nature. A gentleman known as B.D. broached it in a piece published this morning in the Prince Regent’s paper. How can I face Society when even the Regent knows of the scandal? But I suppose it is no more than I deserve.”

“I wouldn’t tax yourself with worry on that front. Prinny isn’t renowned for the complexity of his opinions. Nor for his sterling memory.”

“Prinny?” Only the Regent’s closest confidantes used that nickname. Her father and his friends never would have dared.

“It’s a silly name,” Albion said. “Yet he asks to be called that. What can one do? Anyway, I cannot speak to the Prince Regent’s opinion on this matter, nor my own, I’m afraid. I have not seen the article. What else did this gentleman—and I use that terminology loosely, given that he has caused such distress—write? If you care to continue the sad tale.”

“I prefer not to give the vile piece further credence by reciting it aloud. If you are curious, it is in print for all who wish to read.”

“If dishonoring a lady is the best this fellow can manage, I shan’t devote a ha’ penny to the paper.”

Diana raised her tankard of lemonade in a toast. He clanked his pewter tankard against hers, playing along.

“My sister thinks the only way I might rid thetonof their interest in this lurid story is to marry,” Diana told him. “To ally with a powerful family who will protect my reputation.”

Albion traced the rim of his tankard. She caught sight of his claws once more. “Might you allow me the liberty of another personal question?”

“I welcome it.”

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