Page 51 of Romanced By the Orc

“There it is, then,” he said. “We shall look forward to keeping your company at Lord Mandeville’s ball.”

Lounging in a comfortable winged chair before her rosewood writing table, Diana took another sip of Riesling. She wonderedhow long it would be until Albie returned home. And visited her bedchamber.

She set aside her current reading material, a biography of the late Empress Catherine of Russia, to continue a letter to Lillian. Since Lil had been away, Diana had taken to writing random reflections in her notebook before bed. She enjoyed dipping her quill in ink before organizing those ideas into coherent thoughts on the parchment paper for her sister.

While flames crackled in the stone fireplace, she wrote:

I daresay Albie supports my ambition to be a woman of politics. It is more even than I might have imagined in Philadelphia.

With a sudden drop of her heart, she realized that the life she had once envisioned in America included Albion in name only, the distant husband married to her so that she could live respectably on her own. Now, such an arrangement did not hold the slightest appeal.

She needed to broach the subject of their future. A topic that made her heart pulsate curiously. While she did not doubt her husband’s desire for her, she could not bear it should he not respond in kind to her wish to spend their lives together.

At last, the elegantly carved oak door creaked open. When she turned, Albie smiled indulgently. His horns nearly skimmed the low ceiling. The light emanating from her oil lantern rendered his elegant cheekbones even finer.

“You are hard at work, madam.” He lowered into a dramatic bow. “I should leave you to your thoughts, then?”

“I sense an ironical tone,” she told him, setting her writing implements back on the table next to her wine.

“Mere jealousy over whoever has captured your attention.”

“Only my sister, I assure you. And how did you spend your afternoon, husband?”

“Not as pleasant as time spent with you, wife, but well enough. I ran into His Royal Highness at the club.”

“How is our fair Regent?”

“Jolly as ever. I daresay he is someone who can help with your aspirations.”

Diana laughed nervously. She’d once thought Nigel Halman could do that. “I like to think I can tend to them on my own. By way of competence.”

“Then you are a singular person in both London and the Hidden Realm. Knowing the right individual is key to success, is it not?”

“How jaded.”

“How realistic.”

“Well, I shall try not to feel overly jealous of the Regent for stealing your time from me.”

“Time that was well spent. Do you want to meet Prinny? I hope so, for he has agreed to attend Lord Mandeville’s ball in our company. If you wish to wield influence, why not start with the Prince Regent?”

“I thought you found his understanding of politics lacking.”

“Surely you could set him right.”

“A tempting prospect. I shall be honored to do so. But I am glad now to have you all to myself.”

With a sly smile, he turned the coverlet down and beckoned her. “Might I join you in your quarters this evening, wife?”

She moved to the bed, crawling on top of him so that her robe fell open, exposing her breasts. Albie sighed, his hand moving first lightly over her nipples, granting her time enough to pull away if she so pleased. Even at this slight touch, her heart raced,and her lips tingled, and what she desired more than anything in this world was Albion Higgins. Her Albie.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Diana took great pride in being driven about London in Albion’s carriage, resplendent with the Hooradech mak Teer family’s crest: the fierce wolf in profile, inverted chevrons, and gold metalwork. She loved it even more when Albie seized the reins of his Stanhope Phaeton to ride through Kensington Gardens or Hyde Park with one hand on her knee. She saw the appreciative looks and knew they made a handsome couple, Albie tipping his hat to whoever was admiring them.

Today’s journey was no smoother than any she’d taken in her father’s conveyance. The cobbled streets were no less bumpy. But now that she was Lady Hooradech mak Teer, she felt truly alive.

The mere thought of her husband made her so happy she felt impervious to the worries of life. Albie had spent the entirety of their admittedly young marriage, for it had been but a fortnight, spoiling her. It was high time she returned the favor.

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