Page 31 of Plucked By the Orc

“I should not have been. So impertinent,” Iris said, now fully committed. “It is only. I cannot resist. A good. Lottie Greenstreet tale.”

Duncan certainly hoped she could resist it for the rest of the call. Thankfully, Mother never encouraged people to remain at her at-homes for over half an hour and greatly preferred a quarter of an hour. If they could get through the next five minutes or so, they could end the visit altogether, and Duncan could escort Iris home.

At the thought, he allowed himself to imagine a world where he might escort her home as a gentleman would any lady he was intent on courting. That while it wasn’t appropriate in human circles for Iris Gabbert to stay under his roof, he could still treat her appropriately while she was there and express a romantic interest in her. He would take her to her bedroom door and kiss her hand before bidding good evening.

And Iris would gaze up at him, her lovely eyes wide and lips parted just so. That same expression made his claws retract, and his heart gallop at a maddening pace. The look that might also let him know she would welcome it if he bent down to gaze into her eyes and then tilted her chin so that he could kiss her deeply.

Human customs be damned. In the Hidden Realm, they could enjoy one another’s company with no fear of recourse, devices to prevent pregnancy being readily available. He could place his hand at the back of her waist and pull her closer and …

Duncan shook his head so suddenly and with such violence that Mother startled. “Whatever is it, Duncan?”

“Merely a sudden chill.”

“How odd,” Albion said, in a manner suggesting he found it not odd at all. Confound it all. His brother was worse than a human in that regard. Why couldn’t anyone just say what they meant to say in a fitting tone? “I had thought the room was overly warm. Mother is attached to keeping the fire in her hearth blazing throughout the day. Are you sure you’re not coming down with a common cold or the like, Dunc? Or perhaps a malady of the heart?”

“As I said, I’m fine. And don’t call me Dunc.”

Despite his brother’s ribbing, Duncan felt Iris had done a fine job until that last bit. And her eccentricities seemed forgiven easily enough. Iris Gabbert was pleasing the Dowager Duchess of Barrington, a tall order indeed. If she could fool Mother, he’d no doubt she could fool thetonas well.

The thought made him smile. Another shock to Albion, he was sure. For a moment, Duncan ruminated over how easily he had become a man who smiled at the slightest provocation.

A change for which he had Iris Gabbert to thank.

Like a thunderbolt to his heart, Duncan realized he could never view Iris as a mere pupil ever again. It was only a matter of keeping the tumult of his emotions at bay.

If he cared to do so.

Chapter Eleven

After the excitement of time spent with Duncan Higgins, his mother, and her esteemed guests, Iris was more than happy to retire to her room in the Mayfair townhouse. She wiggled out of her silk slippers with the cunning wee bows, letting her stocking-clad toes enjoy the feel of the soft floral rug beneath her feet.

Mrs. Thompson helped her loosen the ribbons and slip out of her skirt. The empire waist frocks of thetonwere easy on the stomach, but apparently, these same ladies were still attached to their corsets. While it made for a fine figure and helped a girl remember her posture, Iris couldn’t wait to release herself from the thing. After doing so, Mrs. Thompson patted her on the shoulder and said she would leave Iris to her ablutions.

Iris heaved a great sigh of relief as she stood before the full oval mirror in naught but her shift. The mirror was a subject of fascination, not because she was vain and wanted to look atherself, but because she was always astounded to see her entire form clear as day in the glass. Would miracles never cease?

For all its small and unfamiliar luxuries, this room felt like a home. She’d grown accustomed to the surfeit of pillows. While they’d seemed a waste for the first few nights, she had come to enjoy setting one up against her back. And she used another to prop her head up a little higher on the mattress. Besides that, the room stayed plenty cozy for most of the night. She loved the security of wrapping herself in the blankets and then tucking the duvet up under her chin.

It would be hard to return to the plain camp beds, flat pillows, and musty air that had been her lot before she’d made the acquaintance of Duncan Higgins. The same situation Lottie was stuck in now.

Not for much longer, though. Not after what she had managed tonight. How had that Lady become attached to her name, anyway? Felton Maberly, she supposed. He had assumed she had a title and called her Lady Iris rather than Miss Gabbert. Even Duncan had started to do so.

Despite her initial trepidation, after this visit with Duncan’s mother, she had even greater confidence that she could help secure a shop for her and Lot. Somewhere she wouldn’t run into anyone who knew her as Lady Iris Gabbert.

Then again, she found it unlikely she’d see any of them in a shop. Thetonwere well known to have others do their shopping for all but the milliners and haberdashers who required their measurements to serve them properly. Acquiring flowers would be left to the maids and errand boys assigned to such tasks in great households. And Iris had complete faith that such folks would keep their mouths shut, should they recognize her at all, in allegiance to another soul who needed to work to get food on her table and a roof over her head.

Were she fortunate enough to become the purveyor of her own shop, Iris knew she was not likely to afford the luxuries Duncan Higgins could provide. But never mind. Not everyone could be born to a family of strange fellows who made a mint on their fine silver and otherworldly sapphires, whose fortune led thetonto tolerate most anything. As much as she enjoyed Duncan’s company, seeing him interact with the callers at his mother’s house caused her to remember that he was stiff and awkward around others.

Who would have imagined that she would find that awkwardness strangely alluring? As alluring as his confident presence, strong limbs, and determined gait.

Iris lay on her back and stared at the peaked ceiling, folding her hands on her chest and trying to focus on the calming tick-tock from the mantel clock above the hearth. The shape of the roof had intrigued her from the start, sloping low as it did on each side and then meeting at a high peak in the middle. If she stood on the edge of the room, she barely had to move her arm over her head to touch the roof. But in the center, she estimated the space from ceiling to floor was her height twice over.

She imagined Duncan Higgins would need to hunch over significantly to go through the doorway and step inside. Once in the room, he could stand upright with space to accommodate his dazzling height.

Not that he would have a reason to come in here. She shouldn’t even be thinking about him at all. Squeezing her eyes shut didn’t help matters any. The image lingered.

At first, her attraction to Duncan had crept on slowly, nestling in her mind like a little sparrow faintly chirping. She told herself it was just the newness of the situation. A bit of loneliness on her part as well. And yet, a tiny voice inside her insisted, there was more to it.

Why couldn’t he acknowledge the pull between them? And indulge it? Otherwise, they might both go mad.

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