Page 3 of Plucked By the Orc

At present, that was neither here nor there. This woman had no right to assume anything about his character. “I have never harbored a prejudice against anyone due to theircircumstances.” He gestured broadly to his own prominent and, by human standards, ungainly figure. “How could I?”

“Because you look a mite differen’ than the rest of us?” she huffed. “Gah.”

Duncan lifted his top hat. “I havehorns, Miss Gabbert. My tailor must accommodate them.” He showed her the soft folds of cloth inside his hat.

“Nah.” She glanced at the horns curling around his ears but soon averted her gaze. “See what ‘appens when you go to bed on an empty stomach and then face the jeers of this lot all the next day.” She jabbed her chin at the departing theatergoers. “Then you’ll know what I mean.”

Despite her performed bravado, a hint of despair infused her voice. Such that Duncan wanted to help her. “There is nothing you can’t achieve in this world if you were to better fit in with this ‘lot’ as you call them. A more refined way of speaking and dressing. Clearly, you don’t lack intellect.”

“Woah there! ‘igh praise indeed.”

“Miss Gabbert, you are merely in want of cultivation. And such can be taught.”

“Where am I suppose’ to find such lessons? ‘aven’t seen them up for offer on the street while lookin’ for a doss house for the night. And these fine ladies wouldn’t ‘elp the likes of me.”

This woman clearly possessed common sense. She was right about the ladies of theton. The gentlemen too. They took one look at Iris Gabbert and made instant judgments as to her “worthiness” by their narrow conception of the word.

Strange that. This quandary bedeviled his writing as well. The humans he’d encountered in London set a store on status but based their assessment of such on appearance and mannerisms alone. The illusion of wealth seemed sufficient to pave the way toward more significant opportunities. That is why Duncan hadforegone the practical woolen clothes of the Hidden Realm for the style of the human world.

A notion struck Duncan then that he could help this woman. But this was impulsive, and Duncan thought he’d banished impulsive decisions from his mind.

Once he grasped hold of an idea, however, impulsive though it might have been, he couldn’t let go. Miss Gabbert might help him learn more about human society beyond theton. In return, he would help put her in a position to make a better life for herself in London. Particularly as he owed her for the loss of her flowers, even if she was too proud to accept his money.

That he would also have the opportunity to spend more time in her presence was surely not part of his decision. Not at all.

“If you are reluctant to receive my bank notes, accept lessons in their stead,” he said.

Miss Gabbert leaned forward, her lush lips slightly parted and amber eyes widening. And then, catching herself, she returned to her impenetrable stance. “What do you mean by lessons, then?”

“I fancy myself something of an expert on human behavior, particularly that of theton.” Duncan didn’t merely fancy himself as such. Hewasan expert. But humans set such a store on undermining their own accomplishments in conversation, even as they strove to highlight them. “Were you to take me up on it, I could turn you into a well-spoken young lady with the comportment, wardrobe, and attitude required to be the toast of London’s society.”

Iris Gabbert hitched her wicker basket with the neglected flowers closer to her side. “You mean for me to swan in and out of ballrooms, and what have you? With theton? A waste of space, they are. Thank you, but no thank you.”

So Miss Gabbert held the same low opinion of London society as he did. If it weren’t for promises he’d made when hisfather lay on his deathbed—to continue his work as a diplomat and foster harmony between England and the Hidden Realm—Duncan would have retreated to his homeland long ago.

“Perhaps they are a ‘waste of space,’ as you say, but it would not be a waste of your time to learn to thrive among them,” he told Miss Gabbert. “Grant me half of your day every day for a fortnight for lessons. And then you can make a fine marriage or apply to be a lady’s companion or whatever your heart desires.”

“And lose two weeks of prime sellin’? At the ‘eight of the season?” She jabbed a finger toward the marble arches and imposing edifice of the Drury Lane Theatre behind them, the foyer still illuminated with gas light, though the vestibulehad now emptied.

“A minor loss compared to what lies ahead. Besides, you might allow me to compensate you, at least. Think it over.”

She put a small hand on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. “I imagine you’re expectin’ something in return. What do you take me for? I should knock you a good one for suggestin’ it.”

A burning humiliation spread from the tips of his horns to the bottom of his feet. This was an act of benevolence. Couldn’t she see as much? He certainly hadn’t expected Miss Gabbert to be offended.

“Humans overcomplicate matters unnecessarily. And so you mistake me for a fiend. Based on my appearance.”

“Nothin’ to do with that!” she protested.

“You have met many orcs on the street then, have you?”

“My opinion’s not formed on appearances, thank you very much. It’s shaped by knowin’ a few gentlemen, and what ignites a man’s passion and all. ‘uman or orc, I imagine it’s the same. I won’t take any part of it, I won’t.”

Duncan could not argue with her assessment of men’s carnal appetites, but that was irrelevant. Even if there was a certain light about her that he couldn’t deny attracted him. Even if hisbed had grown cold as of late. “I’m not suggesting anything untoward. You have my word.”

“So yer makin’ this offer out of pure generosity?”

“Yes,” he said, genuinely baffled. “It is an honorable course of action.”

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