Page 41 of Plucked By the Orc

At least Iris was learning new skills. Now that she knew them, she did not intend to give them up.

Out of the corner of her eye, Iris noted a sudden frown crossing Albion’s usually merry features. It lasted only a moment before his jovial demeanor was restored, but it was enough to make her think he had noticed something amiss.

Or he had guessed the true nature of the relationship developing between herself and Duncan. If that was the case, Iriscould only hope that Duncan’s brother didn’t see any reason for concern.

“You called her Iris. Not Miss Gabbert. You’re not the only one who can take note of such details, Dunc.”

“You know I don’t care for it when you shorten my name thusly. Dunc is a verb, meaning to dip, not a name.”

“Well, get used to it,Dunc, because I’m not freeing you from this topic until I have reached a satisfactory conclusion.”

“You make me sound as though you have chosen me as a subject of scientific inquiry.”

“Of a sort. What is the nature of your relationship with Miss Gabbert?”

Duncan had anticipated Albion’s question and yet been hoping to delay it for a while. All because he had made such a foolish slip of the tongue when they were practicing Iris’s bow before the “duchess” earlier in the day.

When he and Albion arrived at their club for luncheon, Duncan had worried that their late arrival would cause problems. But he had to credit human society with not taking one to task over such matters. The older human gentleman who stood at the front desk, just past the white Corinthian columns outside the door, greeted them warmly and guided them to their table, per usual. Then, their accommodating server assured them their favorites were among the chef’s specials, also per usual.

Duncan suspected their first-rate treatment at the club was as much due to his brother’s good nature as their family’s tremendous wealth and human custom. While Duncan’s name was common in their world, originating with their Scottish neighbors and popular in Orcan families, Albion’s name datedback to the Romans and referenced the area near the white cliffs of Dover in the south of the British Islands. Unlike Britain, the Orcan homeland had never been invaded by the Romans. The orcs of that time merely liked the sound of the Latin language and borrowed from it extensively.

And so the name Mother had chosen for Albion was an ancient one shared by the inhabitants of the Hidden Realm and the English. When the English heard Albion’s name, they took none of this into consideration. They assumed it referred to their own country and that Albion had been named in honor ofthem. Which they, naturally, found agreeable.

Humans really were incurious sorts.

Not Iris Gabbert, though. Iris was a singular individual. And a most sensuous woman as well. It was only Duncan’s good fortune—and what he had done to earn such fortune, he knew not—that, for some inexplicable reason, she seemed to think the same ofhim.

Iris still teased him, even taking up Albion’s vexing habit of addressing him as “Dunc” when not utilizing the now wickedly enticing “your grace.” And while she’d attempted to explain the foundation of such humor, which, as Duncan understood it, seemed to involve simply saying things that weren’t true or would irritate the person, it still made no sense. Much as she tried to assure him otherwise, Duncan couldn’t help but suspect that deep down inside, she employed this “ironical aspect,” as she’d termed it, to keep him at a distance.

He’d observed ladies playing with hearts as often as gentlemen did with theirs. While his liaison with Lady Margaret Hathaway never reached the level of physical intimacy he shared with Iris, he would never have taken things as far as he had if he thought she didn’t care for him.

And yet Lady Margaret had done everything within her power to encourage that attention—another case of saying one thing and meaning another, that cruel human habit.

From the worst gossip mongers among the gentlemen who frequented their club, he’d heard that Lady Margaret continued to treat tender hearts as her personal toys, even after accepting a proposal from another gentleman, a human with wealth not as considerable as Duncan’s but a far older title.

These samegentlemenclaimed the loose empire waist style gowns became the rage specifically because the generous middle section of those frocks disguised pregnancies that weren’t the result of congress with their husbands. Duncan had debated whether to include such slander in his book. As his primary audience was the society of the Hidden Realm, he decided against it. Still, that tidbit always struck him as telling of how human men viewed women.

“You did hear my question, didn’t you, brother?”

Albion had folded his hands before him, having long since finished his supper of spare ribs. Having, in fact, made a point of finishing it before broaching this topic.

Which accomplished nothing but to extend Duncan’s indecision.None of this ruminating was helping matters at present.

“As a gentleman of science, surely you won’t deny me the courtesy of an answer?” Albion added. “Do you and Miss Gabbert enjoy a relationship of an intimate nature?”

Duncan sighed and took another stab at the slab of beefsteak on his plate. As per his custom, he had ordered it plainly, for he didn’t believe he would ever absorb the English habit of slathering a fine piece of meat with fussy sauce. It seemed disrespectful to the animal. In this way, he would always remain Orcan, no matter how he might speak or dress in the manner of humans.

Even prepared to his specifications, however, he found he had little appetite for it.

Bugger it all, since when had he turned into this man? One who couldn’t focus for the space of more than a few seconds before his mind’s eye summoned a vision of Iris Gabbert undressed and welcoming him into her bed. Who couldn’t determine what to tell his brother about the “nature” of their relationship. Was it best to be honest?

No, he realized. Much as he trusted Albion, these humans had strange notions of purity and honor. Any whisper of what happened between Duncan and Iris after their lessons finished and the servants retired for the night was their own concern. He needn’t share with anyone. While he was tempted to confide in his brother—who was flippant, but had always proven himself loyal—it was too risky. Someone in the club might overhear and then spread word around London via the whispering networks.Even were he and Albion to find a private space to converse, he could not risk his brother making a slip. He knew Albion would never betray the secret intentionally, but the risk wasn’t worth it.

“To what are you referring,” Duncan said, attempting to slice his beefsteak as though this were just another meal in his brother’s company.

“You were never a good liar, Dunc. But I’ll let it pass. For now. I understand why you might be reluctant to speak further on the subject at present.”

He leaned closer to Duncan, eyes flashing in a way Duncan rarely saw in his brother. Not with good humor but concern.

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