Page 55 of Romanced By the Orc

In her darkest thoughts, the ones she could never share with Lillian, nor with Albie for that matter, Diana harbored an unhealthy interest in Nigel. But she had kept those feelingsstrictly under wraps. She had limited their discussions to politics and held to the same in correspondence.

Hadn’t she?

She hoped Albion was in by now, as he held visiting hours from two to five, and was relieved when she spotted him in the drawing room. Had he holed up in his private suite upstairs, she would have been reluctant to disturb him.

The room was not as grand as that which graced his elder brother’s townhouse. This was by design, as Albion intended for the place to be inviting for visitors. The lofty ceilings, lustrous oak floorboards, and marble hearth were imposing, to be sure. But the fawn-colored settee and matching armchairs boasted decidedly human-sized proportions. The exception being Albion’s custom-fit armchair with a mahogany frame and leather upholstering.

She found her husband in that same chair, hunched over his sketchbook, busying himself with his charcoal pencils. His pinched brow showed his keen attention and love for the activity.

As ever, her husband’s form quickened Diana’s pulse. She longed to invite him upstairs to her bedchamber, even if it was only midday. The deliciousness of doing such when callers waited for him downstairs was thrilling, if wholly inappropriate. But then that described much of life with Albie, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he heard what had happened, how easily Reginald had been able to threaten her, due to her own faithlessness, Albion would hate her. She was sure of it. Looking around Albion’s townhouse, a space that had been so dear to her not hours before, she knew she did not deserve any of it. Least of all Albion himself. She stepped inside the room, shame wrapping around her once more, holding her in a vise.

So while Diana appraised him, her resolve to share Reginald’s vile proposition dissolved. If he knew of her role in the foolishness with Nigel, he would never see her the same way again. He would see her only as a woman silly enough to get entangled with her sister’s affianced. Maybe, someday, she might share a bit more of the sad tale and admit her foolish infatuation with Nigel Halman. But that day would come years from now, not mere weeks before they would define the nature of their future relationship.

She rolled her shoulders and strode forward. “Husband? Have you a moment for your wife?”

“Always.”

The purity of his smile hurt her heart, but she forced a cheery tone. “What are you sketching?”

He closed the book and raised a finger playfully. His claws were retracted, as usual, in her presence.

“It is not fit for human or Orcan eyes.”

“I very much doubt that is true, but I respect your decision.”

She sat on one of the damask-lined chairs across from him, eyeing the plate of scones on the side table alongside oversized blueberries he had shipped in from the Hidden Realm and thick Devonshire cream plopped in a ramekin. Sprightly bluebells edged the rim of the dishware. Albie had told her he enjoyed such small but thoughtful decorations, so unlike the plain serving vessels of the Hidden Realm.

Now, she wondered if the porcelain originated in Rostin. How many of their everyday luxuries benefited the man who had so monstrously invaded his peaceful neighbor? She was as complicit as everyone else.

“Have any callers come by today?” she inquired.

“Not yet. My brother may come.” Albie reached for a scone and took a bite, chewing and swallowing before he spoke again. “I have told him repeatedly that he is most welcome, whether ornot it is during the assigned hours. Still, Dunc has never been known to digress from his accustomed schedule. We’ll likely meet at our club this week, per usual.”

Diana nodded slowly, her thoughts far away. “Might His Grace have the latest news from Chamberly?”

Albion’s smile collapsed. The loving concern on her husband’s face was almost too much to bear.

“You’re concerned about your sister? If any updates are disclosed, I will ring for you immediately so you might hear them for yourself.”

“Thank you.” She ran her finger along one of the decorative pillows on the chair. She had been sufficiently worried about Lillian and that was before Reginald’s threats.

She would not betray a man as noble as the Benevolent Phantom. Surely, she wouldn’t. A man with honor and purpose. But she could not stop the thoughts of how she might hypothetically do so from running through her head. “You are excited about Lord Mandeville’s ball?”

“As excited as a fellow should be, I’d wager. Why?”

Last week, one of the popular broadsheets featured a column of drawings depicting the adventures of the mysterious Phantom. Rostin’s thuggish mercenaries dragged a downtrodden and emaciated man in ragged clothes. A figure in a cloak stood behind them, lurking in the shadows, face hidden. In the top right-hand corner, a tiny sigil of a delicate flower n wax, the sort gentlemen used to seal letters. From one closest to Rostin: the elusive ghost orchid spotted in correspondence directly from the Benevolent Phantom!

“I was merely thinking of Chamberly and the horrid situation there. And the work of the man known as the Phantom.”

“Are you certain the Phantom is a man?”

She cocked her head. “I wish I had caught myself there. No, I am not certain at all. But one can’t help but speculate. Do you suppose His Royal Highness knows this person’s identity?”

Albie’s smile tightened. “If the Regent did know, he would not reveal the name. Prinny’s a profligate fellow to be sure, but not without honor as I assume you’re aware.”

“But clearly, he trusts you. He’s given no hints?”

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