Page 52 of Romanced By the Orc

And what better way to celebrate life than by way of a daily trip to a confectioner and patisserie.

Under ordinary circumstances, Isabel would have accompanied her, glad for an excuse to be out of the house, even if her current situation was a vast improvement over life in Lord Mercer’s household.

Diana had always known her husband was generous. Certainly more generous than her father. During the entire ride to the Burlington Arcade the prior day, Izzie praised her quarters, shared with but one other girl, and the comfortable bed sufficiently long that she didn’t have to scrunch her legs to fit on it.

This morning, however, Mrs. Waverly had tasked Isabel with sorting the weekly laundry. Albie was committed to spending a day attending to the family business in his private study. Hence, Diana’s chaperone for the ride was Izzie’s brother, Isaac. Though getting along splendidly as a footman, he had proven clever with horses, so she asked him to serve as her coachman and groom.

She also asked him to stick close to their usual routine. Diana had made a ritual of morning stops at her favorite patisserie and confectioner’s shop. For her first visit to her sister-in-law as a married woman, Diana wanted to pick up custard eclairs to see if Iris would love them as much as she and Lil did.

Their mother used to cluck at them about such indulgences. Well, Mother had no say in the matter now.

Diana touched the brilliant Orcan sapphire hanging from the chain around her neck. Albie’s wedding gift. More dazzling than she deserved. She owed him a gift, but what did one buy an Orcan fellow who had it all? She resolved to allow the matter further thought and surprise him with a present worthy of his affection.

After Isaac brought the matched bays to a stop at the side of the carriageway, three doors down from the shop, he helped her alight.

“I should come in with you, my lady,” he said as he lowered the carriage’s footsteps. He glanced about the street. A trio of young boys squatted in a game of ball and jacks. In a nearby stall, a fishmonger brought a cleaver down to separate fish bodies from heads while a gray stray cat threaded around his stocky legs.

“Humbug! It will take no longer than five minutes to fetch the éclairs.”

“I can post the bays.”

“The glass wall of the shop is in your line of sight,” she said, grazing his hand as she descended from the footsteps onto the cobble. “Why put the horses through the stress? Remain with them, and I’ll return presently.”

At last, Isaac averred. As he tended to the horses, the scent of sewer water, dust, fresh fish, and rotting fruit assaulted her. Heading to the patisserie, she darted between women in light summer pelisses and gentlemen in cotton riding coats, scrutinizing the fanciful marzipan castle exhibited in the front window, replete with turrets and towers intricately detailed with iced sugar.

When Diana entered the shop, the door bells jingled. Now, she caught the far more satisfying aromas of warmed brown sugar and spices. Shelves lined the walls, displaying a tempting assortment of confections stored in glass jars of every shape and size: jellied fruits, peppermint drops, and hazelnuts drenched in caramelized syrup.

The day had gotten off to a fine start indeed. She looked forward to getting to know Iris better, and she felt confident that her evening with Albie would be … well, the mere thought of his powerful hands, claws retracting when he drew her close, made Diana melt.

Fixated on that image in her mind’s eye, it took her a moment to recognize the thoroughly unwelcome voice coming from behind.

“Lady Diana? Or should I say, Lady Albion Higgins?”

She spun around and found herself face to face with Reginald Addington, the last person she wished to see at this or any other moment.

“Thank you,” she said with a stiff nod. She did not mention her preference for Hooradech mak Teer. It would have meant extending her time with Reginald. “I am glad the announcement of our wedding made the rounds.”

“Congratulations are in order. Though I was surprised to hear there was no wedding breakfast. One would think your mother would have been eager to attend.”

“Is that so?”

“By the by, I haven’t seen Lady Stewart in London very much as of late. Seems your mother prefers to spend her time elsewhere.”

He opened his brown paper bag to take a bite from the almond croissant deposited therein. If he had already made his purchase, why was he loitering inside?

No matter. She no longer faced this man as Lady Diana Stewart, the deplorable sister who had shamed her family. She was now the wife of a wealthy Lord of the Hidden Realm and an intimate of the Prince Regent himself. What harm could Reginald cause her other than the irritation of his mere presence?

“In contrast, your esteemed father told anyone who might listen. He seemed happy to have a daughter aligned with a Lord of the Hidden Realm. A novel pairing, indeed.”

She brightened her voice even as her muscles remainedtight. “Not so novel. Is Albion’s brother not married to a humanwoman? I am fond of Iris, Her Grace, the Duchess of Barrington, that is, and would not care to see her slighted.”

“The duchess is elevated thanks to her husband,” Reginald allowed, “but she is not from a political family, let alone an ennobled one. That makes your match more extraordinary, in my view. After all, who wouldn’t want a father-in-law in the House of Lords?”

The slyness in his voice concerned Diana, and she was already plenty concerned with this encounter. A subtle vivacity in Reginald’s beady little eyes made her think it wasn’t by chance that he’d known her daily routine.

“And where is your husband this morning?” he asked.

“Attending to his affairs as I shall attend to mine. I am on my way to call on my sister-in-law and mustn’t tarry. If you will excuse me.”

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