Page 9 of Plucked By the Orc

“A shop, your grace. Sellin’ flowers with my mate, Lottie Greenstreet. Not off the street, but from a proper place. I know everything there is to know about blossoms, I do.” She nodded at his notebook. “Maybe I’ll write my own book one day. I imagine flowers are a mite more cooperative than humans.”

“You can write as well as read?”

“My mum taught me before she passed, bless her soul.” Iris quickly crossed herself. “To read and to write a fine hand,though I don’t get the chance to do much of either these days.” She looked at the books. “I miss it, I do,” she added wistfully.

Duncan’s large thumbs tapped the intricate carvings on the sides of his armchair. He scrutinized her in a way that wasn’t altogether displeasing but still made her squirm.

“Have you applied for any positions in shops? If your mother taught you to read and write, she also taught you sums?”

“She did that.” Feeling emboldened, Iris stood and headed for the side table to help herself to a petit-four with a spun sugar rose. “But you don’t need to be an expert on ‘uman society to understand how that went. The shops wouldn’t let me through the door. How do you fancy that? One look and they shoo me away like a dog beggin’ for scraps.”

“Were your circumstances always so dire, Miss Gabbert?”

An image of her mother’s kind face flickered in her mind, followed by that of her father tossing down another slug from his ever-present bottle of whiskey. Her stomach soured, though this didn’t stop her from consuming the petit-four. A girl had to eat.

“I don’t much like to talk about my past. I think about today because that’s all there is. Yesterday is over and done, and tomorrow is yet to be.”

“Isn’t your willingness to take me up on my offer proof you do care about the future?”

“I care,” Iris said, licking her fingers. “But that don’t mean I can’t keep my wits about me for today above all else.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He regarded her carefully. La. The bloke could kill a spider with his eyes if he fixed that stare of his on the poor creature long enough.

“The more I hear of your tale, the more intrigued I am, Miss Gabbert,” he continued. “I believe I will find you to be a quick study. If you’re willing, I am prepared to start straightaway.” He steepled his hands, fine-tipped claws just visible between his fingers.

“There is a matter I feel compelled to share. As I said, I am engaged in writing a book about thetonand a section dedicated to your transformation would be most informative.”

At the sound of that, Iris wiggled her bottom in her seat, re-adjusting to hide her anxiety. She still didn’t like the notion of being a subject of study. And yet, how could she refuse when she’d come this far? And made a promise to Lottie about opening a shop.

“I suppose it makes sense to write about me, it does,” she said. “You wantin’ to write about human customs and such. What makes us all so fascinatin’ anyway?”

“The book is meant as an instruction for inhabitants of the Hidden Realm who endeavor to travel to London.”

“And how will I ‘elp? Seeing as how the likes of me ain’t any part of theton.”

“Not at present,” Duncan said, holding a finger in the air. “But with my assistance, you shall conquer society. Proper speech, manners, and gowns in the latest styles are what you need, Miss Gabbert. And in return …”

“Oh, I don’t need nothin’ in return but the lessons.”

“Anythingin return. But you do, Miss Gabbert. It’s only fair. Why don’t you stay here for the duration of your lessons?”

“I got a room. Me and Lottie Greenstreet do, that is. I owe half rent each week for the bedsit in Lambeth.”

“I am happy to pay it.”

“I told you I weren’t looking for charity.”

“Nonsense! You are furthering the cause of my tome and should be compensated. If you take me up on it, I have a guest chamber you might utilize as you see fit. That’s reasonable isn’t it? Sensible even. For we shall fill our days completely with your lessons and there’s no sense in you trudging out here daily from Lambeth.”

Iris gnawed on her lower lip. She prided herself on her common sense.

“You will enjoy all the benefits of my hospitality as well. Chef Laurent served under Napoleon, as he admitted himself, but bygones and all that. So what say you? A warm bath, hearty meals, and a few diction lessons. And you may spend your free time in the evenings as you wish. I caught you looking at my books. You may borrow any of them you like. I shall instruct Mrs. Thompson to keep the door unlocked at night so you can come and go as you please. Why not avail yourself?”

Iris straightened her shoulders, thinking of the dagger tucked in her pelisse. She wanted to trust this Duncan Higgins, but that and a dream will give you naught but fairy dust, as Lot would say.

Come to think of it, Iris had no idea what that meant, but she figured trusting him and anyone else in this household would be easier with the blade under her pillow.

“All right, then.”

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