Page 64 of Plucked By the Orc

Her partner startled, and Iris stifled a wince. “Around to society, that is,” she added quickly.

“What do you know about the customs of his people?”

Probably more than this gent suspected, but far less than she hoped to know. “I should like to learn more.”

“Are you familiar with their wedding ritual? Of renaming the bride for a flower?”

Something about how he said it made her feel suddenly warm. “I have heard of such.”

“I believe I overheard Vicar Swinton refer to your given name, and I thought perhaps you and the duke had … well.”

Now, she was not just warm but flushed hot.

“I was honored with the name of a flower at birth,” she told him.

“I see.” But he didn’t sound like he saw at all. He sounded like he knew Iris’s deepest secret—that she had feelings for Duncan Higgins.

When the dance ended, Lady Bellingham’s son kissed her hand and excused himself. Iris should have circulated the room as well, but she found herself drawn to Duncan as though by a spell, wanting nothing from this night now but to make things right.

Before she could get to him, Vicar Swinton stepped forward and firmly took her arm.

“Countess! How strange that you would not reveal your title when we first met at his grace’s mother’s house. I must learn more.”

With that, Iris was separated from both Duncan and Albion. She was on her own to demonstrate that she was indeed a countess.

Duncan watched, fingers clenched into fists, claws retracted, as Vicar Swinton walked away to chat with Iris. He could think of no other intervention. Duncan feared that instinct might overwhelm him altogether if he got too close to them. He might give away his feelings for Iris.

And that he was too cowardly to do.

He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder.

“Let it be, Duncan,” Albion said quietly. “She will be fine.”

“I don’t want him to embarrass her. And Lady Bellingham has requested information.”

“Which Iris shall be more than capable of providing. Surely you know that by now.”

“I don’t believe she will tell a direct falsehood,” Duncan told his brother, “which could make the matter more difficult for her.”

Albion nodded. “Nonetheless, you must have faith in her,” his brother said.

“I have complete faith in Iris,” Duncan muttered. “It is other humans who I believe will let me down. Have I not cataloged as much?”

“Faithfully,” Albion told him.

Presently, the vicar returned to the room and Duncan’s line of vision. At first, when he saw Iris had not returned with him, Duncan’s pulse raced, and he wondered how unseemly it would be to challenge a man of the cloth, as the English would put it, to a duel.

Then he spotted Iris walking into an alcove set aside for the women to attend to any urgent needs of their toilette, along with a pair of women whom he recognized as associates of Lady Margaret Hathaway.

Now, his heart positively thundered. He clenched his hands, willing his claws to come back out.

“Ah, there you are, your grace,” the vicar said, nodding at Duncan and Albion. “I had hoped for a word. Lady Bellingham asked me to learn more about your charming lady acquaintance.”

Duncan knew as much but refrained from comment. He raised a hand as one of Lady Bellingham’s liveried servants passed near them with a tray of crystal flutes filled with champagne. He downed the drink in one swallow. Though Duncan was loathe to admit it, the drink was nearly as satisfying as Orcan ale.

The vicar seemed eager to continue his monologue.

“I daresay I can’t place her accent,” Vicar Swinton commented. “Most vexing. She claims she was raised abroad, but when I inquired as to where exactly, she only covered her face with her fan and said she didn’t like to speak of it. She seemed most upset.”

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