Page 61 of Plucked By the Orc

“Yes, yes,” Duncan fretted. In truth, he’d hoped to delay the moment. Escorting Iris to the receiving line meant he would have to touch her. Innocent enough, of course, but he feared the sensation would overwhelm him. But seeing no logical argument against this task, Duncan offered his arm to Iris. She gave him a simple nod and then placed her hand on his arm.

As predicted, his body’s reaction was forceful. At once, his claws retracted, and a shock of electricity left him temporarily unable to move forward.

“It is all right, your grace,” Iris whispered. He caught a rose-scented fragrance, making the already tempting scent of her skin irresistible. “I know what to do. I’m ready.”

“I’m well aware of that, my lady,” he said quietly.

“Then why are you trembling like a leaf?”

She inclined her chin in his direction. At that moment, she was not the mysterious countess he intended to present, but Iris Gabbert through and through.

And he absolutely adored Iris Gabbert, even as she persisted in teasing him. Perhapsbecauseshe persisted in teasing him.

He managed a small smile before leading her from the vestibule toward the candlelit drawing room.

“Only the presence of an elegant lady causes me to tremble,” he said. “You shall be the star of the evening.”

Duncan tried not to allow his gaze to flicker constantly to Iris, but how could he help but stare? She appeared enchanted as they strode toward Lady Bellingham, confident and yet modest at the same time. And a bit distracted. As she had been at Mother’s.

Albion should have been furious as all eyes turned to Iris and whispered. Though mere whispers, Duncan was certain they signaled approval and curiosity.

Lady Bellingham looked surprisingly cheerful, considering her station as a foremost leader of London Society. For a moment, Duncan felt taken aback. While he had expected a haughty woman in conservative dress, the marchioness was sixty years old, with shiny silver hair decorated with feathers and a vibrant Prussian blue gown in the latest fashion. Her cheeks were rosy, whether from rouge or good cheer he knew not, and when she spoke, her voice was like a peal of bells.

“Why, your grace!” she told Duncan. “I am pleasantly surprised you attended this evening. And you have brought a charming companion, I see.”

“May I present Countess Jessup?” Duncan said. “And countess, may I present her grace, the Marchioness of Bellingham.”

Iris didn’t even need a nudge. She dropped into a perfect curtsy, just as they’d practiced.

“This is a most welcome. Honor. I am so pleased. To make your acquaintance.”

Iris still halted her speech, but her gaze remained fixed on Lady Bellingham. Her countenance suggested nothing but kindness and honesty, something of a rarity among theton.

“It is my pleasure, dear,” she told Iris. “And what a lovely gown.”

“How kind of you. To say so. Marchioness.”

They could not take up too much of Lady Bellingham’s time when others were waiting to be received, so Iris moved on, looking all about her. As she headed into the central area of the drawing room, Lady Bellingham held Duncan back. So he nodded at Albion to stay with Iris. She could not be seen without an escort.

His brother complied at once. Say what one would about Albion, and Duncan had plenty to say, but his brother understood when to take matters seriously.

“Where did you find that young lady, duke?” the marchioness asked. “I am taken aback that I have not made her acquaintance before.”

“She was born in the North and raised abroad.”

“That explains it. Not only why she is not familiar to me, but that absorbed look about her, like she is walking through a daydream. Like the entire world and everything in it is new to the girl.”

Duncan bristled at that, but Lady Bellingham continued.

“It is as though she has resided in an enchanted castle and only recently been released from a magical spell. Utterly charming. Thank you for bringing her. I believe many of the gentlemen in attendance shall be thankful as well. Or do you intend to court the young lady yourself?”

It was all he could manage to respond in a normal tone. “I trust the lady to make wise choices when it comes to such decisions.”

“What an amusing way to evade an answer, duke.”

Duncan merely smiled. In human society, he’d often been accused of being “amusing” when he only spoke the truth of his heart. At least Lady Bellingham’s voice remained kind.

“But I daresay you’re not wrong,” she said.

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