Page 31 of Romanced By the Orc

“Duncan Higgins, Duke of Barrington,” Iris responded. “I have found happiness and pleasure in your companionship and vow to commit my life to yours, as you do to mine. Freely and most willingly.”

The sincerity of their words moved her deeply. It was an informed, harmonious commitment born of true love. But seeing Duncan and Iris together, searing doubt ran through her mind. She and Albie had agreed to a practical arrangement. An alliance rather than a love match.

Mind that you do nothing to embarrass your new husband.

Tentacles of guilt latched onto her stomach. How, in good faith, could she exchange such profound declarations with Albion Higgins? Diana didn’t deserve him.

Afterward, they headed for the refreshments on the sideboard. Albie touched the small of her back lightly to steer her toward the bone-white china plates, which bore slices of a delightful gingerbread cake. Still thinking about her father’s distressing warnings, she welcomed Albie’s comforting, light-as-a-feather touch—as though someone had tucked her into a soft bed under a warm blanket. Then he pointed to a sterling silver tray laden with large, savory pastries, plump in the middle and crimped to a flaky golden brown on the edges.

“Those are rice pies popular in the Hidden Realm. Dunc’s choice, no doubt. Bland but filling and nutritious. Not to my taste, I’m afraid. I would prefer tastier options at our wedding breakfast. Inspired by Spanish cuisine, perhaps. How does that sit with you?”

She felt the Dowager’s eyes on them and cast a sidelong glance in her direction. As soon as Albion’s mother caught wind of her stare, she twisted away. Albion had yet to formally introduce Diana to his mother, and it was growing uncomfortable, particularly as she couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman was deliberately ignoring her. She had undoubtedly read the article inThePost.

His mother knew Diana wasn’t good enough for her son even if Albion himself did not.

“Shall we tell them?” Albie said, plucking a lemon bonbon from a tray and popping it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “We shan’t keep our upcoming nuptials a secret forever. Why, think of the shock that would send to this little group if I announced it. A shock in the best sense, that is.”

Diana’s mouth went dry. She focused on the tear-shaped glass dewdrops suspended on thin silver chains from the chandelier high overhead. “This day is for Duncan and Iris. We should not create a spectacle.”

“Yes, but how could they be anything but happy? I shall introduce you by the name we agreed on. Daisy.”

Diana bit her lip. “It was a beautiful wedding, Albie.”

“Agreed. I don’t abide by all of our Orcan customs, but I do adore our weddings.”

“I fear I am not worthy of such sacred vows,” Diana blurted. “Nor is our situation overall. It is but a ruse.”

Albion flinched, and she immediately regretted her choice of words. Yet she could not, in good faith, make the heartfelt promises she had just witnessed.

His mouth moved silently before he found the words. “Daisy,” he said quietly. “Are you trying to cry off the engagement?”

“It is not that. Truly. But we should have a legal ceremony only.”

“You would not involve a cleric?”

“A cleric is acceptable, though I shall not use the word ‘obey.’”

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the new Duchess of Barrington, Iris, approaching. She swallowed down the rest of her questions.

Albion bent down and kissed the tip of her fingers, which caused her heart to flutter with excitement. Despite everything.

“Why don’t I let you and Iris get to know one another better,” he said. “I should speak with Mother. She turns sixty next year, and it is up to me to attend to the particulars of the celebration.”

“That does sound pressing.”

“Merely the result of a wager I lost to Dunc, though I hold no ill will. But blast it if the months don’t creep up on a body. I suppose we should start discussing the invitations and what have you.”

He backed away with all the courtesy expected of a gentleman. But she had hoped that here, among those closest to him, Albie would be the intriguing fellow she knew him to be under allthe stuff and nonsense he put on for the benefit of theton. She longed forthatAlbie.

“It is so kind of you. To come,” Iris told Diana, after exchanging pleasantries with Albion. She spoke in a soft, halting voice. “I hope. Duncan and I. Shall see more of you, my lady.”

“My lady?” Diana laughed, composing herself. She looked forward to getting to know Iris better. After all, they were nearly sisters, if not by blood, then by familial ties. They would each have someone who would understand the unique circumstances and challenges of being married to a Lord of the Hidden Realm.

“You outrank me, your grace,” she added with a quick curtsy. “I am merely your new brother-in-law’s guest.”

Iris assessed the room with a faraway look in her eye, finally resting her gaze on Albion. “Albie is a dear fellow. I already think well of anyone. He considers. A friend.”

Laughter rang out from the opposite corner as Albion teased his mother. “If more sapphires were ornamenting your bracelet, I should wager it would rival the sun.” Despite the flicker of hurt she’d seen in his eyes, he now maintained the pleased-as-a-peach mien so common among London’s would-be gallants.

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