Page 78 of Romanced By the Orc

Waiting for the sailboat that carried him to Calais, he kept his top hat low and tapped his walking stick rhythmically along the dock’s wooden planks to the tune of a melody from Mozart he found particularly jolly. Unfortunately, it did not have the desired effect. The humans destined for the same packet provided him with a wide berth and hardly bothered to disguise their gasps and stares. He had a sense of what his brother and his father must have endured when they first arrived in England, when the sight of orcs was still a curiosity or, worse, viewed as a threat.

While humans in the city might have grown accustomed to his looks, the same did not hold for those in points beyond London. It was enough to strike fear in Albion, not that he would be attacked or taunted, but prevented from getting to Lillian, particularly as he had not the protection of the Prince Regent as he had hoped. If anything, Prinny likely detested him.

Even the slightest deviation from his appointed schedule was dangerous.He thought again of Duncan’s grousing over his plans.You can help a great deal from these shores. From the safety of London.

But how could he possibly trust this mission to anyone else?

Edward Langley was attending to Jacques. Per his instructions, Edward would see that the boy understood he was to pretend to be taken with a sudden bout of the grippe, one so terrible, it required the ministrations of the Sisters of Benevolence.

Albion could not hide, nor could he wait for Duncan’s journalist accompaniment, as previously planned. At present, all he could do was misdirect. No doubt Rostin had received wordof an orc outside the gates of Chamberly and re-designated some portion of his brutish occupational force to keep watch over him. Even if he was there only as the foolish Albion Higgins, calling on his sister-in-law as though she had merely repaired to an adjoining townhouse in London rather than an occupied city-state abroad.

At present, he needed to whisper a quick message to Lillian that no one else would hear.

Given what he now witnessed, however, he found it exceedingly difficult to focus.

Before him, in the spacious church hall converted into a makeshift hospital, Lillian and the sisters tended to people of all ages, casualties of the aggression against Chamberly, who filled every camp bed in the room. Bandaged eyes, heads, and torsos.

“It is rather stuffy in this area, as we are constantly in fear of miasma,” Lillian told him as they moved into a section kept separate from the others by a thin curtain, ragged at the edges, hanging from iron lops on a rod. She pushed the curtain aside so they could see the cots therein. “We are running low on opium. The sisters use belladonna in its place, but it is hardly the same.”

“I should say not,” Albion murmured, trying to hide the violent roiling in his stomach. The victims here suffered from injured limbs, rotting from infections that Albion imagined would soon lead to gruesome amputations. “We have medicines in the Hidden Realm that assist with pain management. I will speak to my brother about how they can get here the fastest way possible.”

“That would be a blessing indeed.”

Albion had thought that would be the most horrific part of his tour. However, when he saw the children, he changed his mind. Some of them were injured, but most of them were there because of the spindly limbs, the ribs showing underneaththeir threadbare clothes, and the pot bellies that indicated malnutrition.

Chamberly was starving.

Overwhelmed, Albion drew a handkerchief to his mouth to hide his shock. He thought of the flowers blooming alongside the elegant thoroughfares of Mayfair and his neighborhood in Brunswick. The finely dressed inhabitants went about their quotidian affairs, unfettered by the pain and suffering across the Channel. There may have been few carriageways in the Hidden Realm and the residences at a greater distance apart, but nature remained pristine and undisturbed. Here in Chamberly, trees and plants had been victims of the war, the same as the poor, unfortunate people around him.

His rescues from Chamberly could not address the scope of the problem. Edward Langley was going to fetch the Comtesse’s son, which was a noble enough deed. However, they required the political force of other nations to improve this situation. They needed to do something more significant, as Diana wanted to accomplish via the English Parliament.

“It is a vile sight.” Lillian worried the folds of her habit. Daisy made a similar gesture often enough. “And yet I am grateful to have attention drawn to it. I understand there are correspondents here as well.”

“I shall call them in just a moment,” Albion said. “As I said, I asked them to hold back while I took the first tour.”

“You did not wish for them to see your reaction? That is most understandable.”

“It is that, I suppose. But there is more.” He lowered his voice. “I would like to speak with you privately about this matter. Is there a spot where we might be alone? In the sight of the sisters, but not in hearing range.”

“Why?”

His voice grew solemn, giving Daisy’s sister a glimpse of who he was.

“You are in peril,” he whispered. “Please allow me to help.”

Diana held her breath as the Duke of Barrington stepped over the threshold into his mother’s parlor. Although immense, Duncan Higgins was not as tall as his younger brother. Still, he exuded a presence every bit as powerful.

The Dowager Duchess was seated on an armchair, and Iris sat next to Diana on the Chesterfield. Soon enough, they’d both likely wish Diana Stewart’s mere existence had never come to their attention. The Orcan woman never seemed to like her. By the time Diana had confessed everything, disdain would grow into hatred. It was the price she must pay.

In any case, Albion’s mother had accepted a kiss on the cheek by way of a greeting, which required Diana to stand on tiptoes even in her low-heeled slippers before the Dowager took a seat, her back perfectly erect. Duncan remained standing but leaned against the mantel of the hearth. Diana would have seen much of Albion in his brother if not for his glower. Meanwhile, the Dowager retained a pleasant look that was more intimidating than Duncan’s scowl.

This family had welcomed her into their home and gathered as soon as she summoned them. They waited for her to speak, occasionally glancing at her gown from the evening before, which was in a rather unfortunate state. Diana touched the sparkling Orcan sapphire at the base of her throat, Albie’s wedding gift. She had done nothing to deserve it. Nothing to deserve him.

She could never hope to atone for her betrayal of the Phantom. But she could at least act now to try to save her husband.

The words didn’t come as clearly as Diana had hoped. She struggled with the whole sad tale, praying they understood what she was trying to say. After an overview of her conversation with Albion before he left, she concluded: “So I wish to learn how much you know about Albie’s business in Newhaven, as well as any that might involve the situation in Chamberly.”

“I fear I do not understand what you are trying to tell us, Daisy,” the Dowager said. “It was rather hard to follow.”

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