Page 40 of Plucked By the Orc

“Forbid? Like you said, it’s not written in my tongue.”

“Yes, but I also know that you have availed yourself of my library. And so you must already know that my father penned a dictionary to translate English to Orcan and vice versa. If you were so inclined, I’ve no doubt you could make out the meaning of my Orcan well enough. But I ask that you do not. Not until I’m ready.”

“So ask or forbid, then?” she said.

“Both,” he said.

Though she sensed he was trying to tease her, Duncan hadn’t a talent for it. Iris had the distinct feeling that despite what had passed between them the previous evening, he didn’t trust her. Trust wouldovercomplicatethings.

Still, she thought she might poke around the house today to try to discover more about this mysterious gent.

Chapter Fourteen

With dancing off the table and intimacy banished to the darkness of night, during the day they focused on lessons of a more platonic nature.

Mrs. Thompson had done a fine job teaching her how to walk as a lady should. At least Duncan had declared as much. But now, other matters required attention if they were to pass Iris off as a countess when they attended Lady Bellingham’s rout.

In the meantime, Duncan had procured a xylophone, a strange-looking instrument: six rosewood bars and a rounded stick to strike on them.

Iris followed the makeshift thumping melodies to capture the correct rhythm of phrases she must learn prior to her next appearance in society. She didn’t sing to the notes, exactly, for it was an unlucky bird or bloke treated to Iris Gabbert’s singing. Iris knew that well enough. She’d once joined in on a ditty with Lot after work, and her friend had grabbed her ears playfully and begged her to stop.

But Iris used the sounds Duncan produced from the xylophone to improve her cadence now that she was to be presented as the enigmatic Countess Jessup.

“How do you do?”

“Were it ever so sunny in the summer as it has been this past week?”

“But I do hope your health will be much improved.”

Drivel all, as Duncan and Iris were quick to agree on. But necessary. And for all its outlandishness, the xylophone helped.

More complicated was the curtsy required for presentation before an ennobled lady or gentleman.For that lesson, Duncan enlisted the help of his brother.

Albion was a jovial gent who had none of the sullenness Duncan sometimes fell into. But he seemed shallower to Iris for this. It was not objectionable by any means. He was just not the man she saw in his brother.

Which made it a mite trickier to pretend that he was a duchess, as she was being asked to do now. Iris lowered her body, as Duncan had shown her, but found her knees trembled. And she was so busy keeping the elegant fabric of her frock from brushing the ground that she couldn’t maintain her balance. Thankfully, she didn’t fall—wouldn’t that be a sight!

“You’re doing very well, Miss Gabbert,” Duncan intoned. “But you must focus on his face, not your feet.”

“He is further up than I expect most duchesses will be.”

Albion laughed at that, for Duncan’s brother did like to laugh. In contrast, Duncan only shook his head and latched his thumbs over his cummerbund.

“Then look at a point behind his shoulder. It’s an old dancer’s trick for not getting dizzy when doing spins.”

“Were you a dancer, then?” Iris said while Albion let out another hearty laugh. Really, for all their similarity inappearance, the personalities of these brothers were as far apart as the sun and moon.

“I read about the technique, Miss Gabbert,” Duncan said. “Here. Allow me to demonstrate. Albion, if you will?”

Duncan walked rigidly to his brother, stopping three paces short of being right in front of him. And then his massive limbs and stiff back loosened as he lowered himself without breaking Albion’s gaze. He swept his arms toward his chest in the same way he had demonstrated for Iris earlier. “Your grace.”

“All well and good,” Iris huffed. “Then again, you aren’t wearing a gown.”

“A valid point,” Albion chirped. “Of course, we could always rectify that situation.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Duncan said. “At any rate, I have full confidence that Iris will master this movement within the next …” He checked his pocket watch. “Half of an hour. Iris has repeatedly proven that she is more than equal to meeting any task set before her.”

He met her gaze then, and the warmth that blossomed inside of Iris whenever he did so spread from her cheeks to the tips of her toes. She enjoyed their sessions well enough, but she couldn’t wait until Albion was gone so she and Duncan would have time alone to indulge in other activities—learning things about their bodies they hadn’t even known. What made them tingle with delight.

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