Page 60 of Romanced By the Orc

He did not look at Duncan but sensed the heft of his stare as they walked at a statelier pace. “I didn’t realize those days still plagued you so.”

“Don’t apologize when I have not been forthcoming. You were the only reason I made it through. But I am ashamed to say that once freed from that awkward stage, I failed to help weaker boys. The dishonor still haunts me.”

“So this trip to Chamberly is your way of setting things right?”

“I will never make it right. Nor will I ever turn my back to a situation where I might use my power to help those in a position of weakness. And that’s where you come in, Dunc. So I put it to you again. Are you willing to help?”

His brother’s brow furrowed. “And I ask again. If you have His Royal Highness in your pocket, as it were, why do you need my help?”

“I want a diplomatic pass from the Hidden Realm.”

Dunc snorted. “Our government has kept strictly neutral in this conflict. Besides, what do you think you will accomplish while you’re there? Sticking out like the proverbial sore thumb?”

“You’re right. Any attempt at disguise or deception would turn to farce. But Father wanted usbothto serve as diplomats to the human world. While no one can match your adroitness in this field, I was supposed to play a role, was I not? My visit might demonstrate that the Hidden Realm is paying attention. It could put further pressure on the Duke of Rostin. I can visit the Sisters of Benevolence, along with Lillian, and offer more supplies. Correspondents wishing to cover the trip might write about it for their papers.”

Duncan’s face lit with interest before sobering once more. “I wish you would reconsider.”

Albion may never have earned his father’s respect. It was too late to do anything about that. Yet he still longed for Duncan’s approval.

“You know I will not change my mind,” Albion told him. “With any luck, it shall be a brief trip. I’ll make our family proud, brother. I promise.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Diana stood before the long cheval mirror next to her armoire, her fantastical attire nearly sufficient to make her forget her problems.

Nearly.

“The modiste said something about Orcan women wearing bangles, not that I’ve heard of such a thing before,” Izzie told her, clasping the small chain of the silver armlet Diana had thought might flatter this eccentric gown. “But Mademoiselle Rosalie seems to think she can procure them in time for the ball.”

Diana and Albie were to attend a performance ofFidelioat the opera house later that week, followed by the ball hosted by Lord Mandeville. These were the ideal events at which to showcase her Orcan attire, yet she did not have the same enthusiasm as she’d mustered before.

A persistent pressure pounded the back of Diana’s head, undoubtedly brought on by the terrible task Reginald wanted to delegate to her and the constant worry over Lillian’s safety.

Diana smoothed the overskirt, cunningly designed with tiny hooks sewn into the waistband. It could be detached to construct a less formal gown. “I still question how Mademoiselle Rosalie became familiar with what Orcan women wear and don’t wear.”

“Truth be, I think she relied heavily on our sketch to form her opinion,” Izzie confided. “Though I suppose it might stand to reason that she caught sight of Lord Albion’s mother at some point.”

Diana turned, trying to view more of the back of her gown over her shoulder. She hadn’t thought to ask Albie if the Dowager Duchess would be in attendance at the opera or the ball after. If so, she was due for a more thorough inspection of the authenticity of her attire than she’d anticipated.

“Wait … let me get the looking glass.”

After fetching the item from the vanity, Izzie held it up so Diana could see. The topaz blue frock, constructed of flowing crepe silk, fit her perfectly but provided sufficient room to move and breathe without constriction. The modest cap sleeves were large and peaked at the top like those on the Dowager’s gown. All the nips and tucks in the design flattered the female body, and she pivoted to see from different angles.

She feared it looked like fancy dress, which Lord Mandeville did not specify in the invitation to his ball. Yet, in other ways, it didn’t feel that way. Diana felt more her true self in this gown. And like a true Lady of the Hidden Realm.

Only now, she was not worthy of it.

“I think it’s splendid,” Izzie sighed. “I almost wish I might attend such a ball myself.”

“If you want to—”

Izzie shook her head, delicate black curls flapping. “Not on your life. I’ve not a mind for the to-dos of Society and such. I never expected to find myself working as a maid, but I’ll take the freedom of earning my way any day.”

“To each her own,” Diana said, catching Izzie’s gaze in the mirror and smiling. She ran her hands up and down her bare arms. “Some degree of independence can be found in this design. I move more freely than in any I’ve ever worn.”

“Something to be said for a gown that does not require a corset,” Izzie remarked. “I’ll hand that victory to Mademoiselle Rosalie. She seemed to get the cut precisely right. Once word gets round, her shop will do mighty well.”

“I shudder to think what some of the matrons will make of it.”

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