Page 62 of Romanced By the Orc

Albion searched Reginald’s eyes for the glint of recognition but found none. If he already knew Albion was the Phantom, he was doing a fine job of hiding it.

“Still on about that dratted Phantom fellow, Reg? Are you determined to claim the reward? Surely even a princely sum such as Rostin offers is but pence to a mere man of business such as yourself.”

Reg turned a shade of pale Albion hadn’t yet seen in an Englishman.

“He is a practical man, you understand,” Reg said shakily. “The Duke of Rostin. An extraordinary man of business himself, one might say.”

“Is that so?” Albion widened his eyes, allowing for polite interest. “You’ve had dealings with him, I take it?”

“None of which I wish to expound on at any length.” Reg lowered his voice. “He is a practical man and a dangerous one as well. I find myself in the unfortunate circumstance of owing him a substantial sum. A sum I already committed to other accounts, not anticipating a downturn in the markets.”

“Rough stuff that wealth of nations,” Albion commented, recalling that Dunc once referenced a book by that name, even referring to it as well-reasoned. For a human scholar. “When said wealth falls short.”

“Quite.” Reg now sounded more crestfallen than unsettled. Given what had occurred in Chamberly, Albion could scarcely imagine the tortures one might expect when indebted to the Duke of Rostin. Reg seemed unscrupulous, but no one deserved such a cruel end.

Orcs were no strangers to gambling. Some even fell victim to its compulsion, unable to get their fill of the thrilling turn of a card or roll of dice. Whether Prinny’s gaming tables or Reginald’s attempt to grow his wealth via emerging and unpredictable markets, humans seemed to suffer worse from the vice. As though it were a plague, contagious and deadly.

“Now, see here, Reg.” Albion knit his fingers, careful to avoid pricking his skin with his claws. “This all sounds like a badbusiness. While I make light of the chap, this Benev-o-whatever he is, Phantom is doing good in the world.”

“He puts England at grave risk with his provocations.”

“Isn’t there another way to square your debt?”

“It is a grand sum, Lord Albion. Far larger than the bounty on the Phantom. I dare not ask even His Royal Highness, with the Crown’s balance sheet at his disposal, for a loan of this size.”

At one time, Albion would have encouraged Reg to reconsider this position. After his recent conversation with the Prince Regent, he did no such thing.

Reginald leaned forward, hands flat, knuckles protruding. “So I find myself in the awkward position of asking you.”

“I see.” Since Albion had committed to rather massive losses at the gaming table as a favor to the prince, he could not offer a loan to Reg. Not that he had any particular desire to help this strange man who had been short-sighted enough to fall into debt to Rostin. But he felt compelled to help anyone who had fallen into disfavor with Rostin. Even Reg.

At any rate, it mattered not. The family accounts fell to Duncan. He could convince Dunc to forgive a poor run of luck at the table. But withdrawing two large amounts would invite both his brother’s attention and his ire. He would have to find another way to help Sir Reginald.

“Blasted rotten luck there, Reg,” Albion said slowly. “But I have not the means to commit to such a loan. My brother controls the financial purse strings. And he has made it a policy not to provide loans, as he fears we would be overrun with requests.”

Reg exhaled loudly before gathering himself and rising. “I should not have asked were it not a desperate situation. As a gentleman, I respect your declination and shall find another way to square matters with Rostin. I’ll leave you to it, then, Lord Albion. Do send my regards to Lady Higgins.”

“My mother?”

“No, my lord. Your new bride. I shall continue to hope she finds something useful for me.”

“Useful?”

To his credit, Sir Reginald looked abashed. “I confess I had a private word with her the other day. She hasn’t mentioned it?”

Albion folded his hands over the serviette he’d spread over his lap to protect his riding coat from spills. “Not yet.”

“Naturally, I assumed she would ask for her husband’s counsel. I got caught up in the moment. It has to do with the Benevolent Phantom. The Duke of Rostin’s reward for his apprehension now stands at 7,500 pounds.”

“Another five hundred quid?” Albion snapped. “For such a cowardly endeavor?”

Realizing his lapse, Albion made a show of clearing his throat before returning to his habitual mien. “Stuff it if I haven’t got a bit of Ollie’s bread stuck in my gullet.” He pounded his chest with a fist for good measure. “That’s better. Now, then, what’s all this to do with my lovely wife?”

“I requested her assistance in determining the Phantom’s identity.”

A sudden chill spiked Albion’s chest. Why hadn’t Daisy shared this with him?

“Well, you make it sound like a right adventure,” Albion said. “A secret mission, as it were.”

---