Page 32 of Romanced By the Orc

“He is a right gentleman,” she told Iris. “However, I sometimes wish he would take life more seriously.”

“Men have their egos. As do we,” Iris said softly. “And. As an Orcan gent. Albion must take particular care. In Society.”

“You’re right.”Diana nodded listlessly. Iris’s voice was so kind that she almost shared her actual worry: that she would shame Albie and his family. Even Iris might feel the extent of that disgrace and suffer for it, as Lillian had before her.

If she and Albie were to commit to one another, they needed to enter the arrangement with their eyes open. There had to be a clear understanding between them. She resolved that they would come to that understanding straightaway.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Albion grasped the crumpling paper tissue around a bouquet of daisies and fresh pink carnations which the florist had decisively assured him were appropriate for a gentleman to present to a lady he intended to marry. Bound with ribbon, Daisy might carry them easily in hand or tucked under her arm, whichever she preferred.

But were they sufficiently romantic? For all Albion prided himself on the dexterity with which he navigated London Society, he did not know.

And anything Albion thought he knew evaporated like water on a hot plate when he saw Daisy, exquisite in a peach blossom walking gown trimmed with delicate white lace, her gorgeous hair tucked under a matching bonnet.

“Lady Diana Stewart,” he called.And then, seeing her loyal maid behind her. "And Miss Isabel."

“Lord Albie Higgins!”

The brightness in Diana’s eyes brought to mind the wildest fantasies he’d indulged at night. He fought to maintain a proper distance while wanting nothing more than to pull her to him and cover her with kisses. Her attire was more than respectable, yet the low thrum of desire stirred, and he forced his claws to remain out, not retract wantonly in her presence.

“My Daisy.”

He presented the bouquet with a flourish, and she pressed the flowers first to her nose and then to her chest. “Why, you’ve even included my namesakes. How delightful. The weather is certainly fair, and it is pleasant to be out of doors, but we must tour the collection as well. Would you prefer to start with the gardens or the interior today, Lord Albie?”

Albion forced his gaze away from Daisy to regard Montagu House. Though grander in scope than the other residences around the square, it was constructed in the same pleasing, simple style. The surrounding grounds were not wild Orcan shrubbery but immaculately manicured: fresh grass surrounded by flower beds abundant with bright daffodils and tulips. Cast stone statues of voluptuous Greek goddesses representing the four seasons stood watch at each corner of the diamond-shaped lawn.

“Let’s see the Rosetta Stone first. Afterward, we might tour the grounds.”

“An agreeable plan. Will you tend to my flowers, Izzie?” She handed the daisies and carnations to her flustered maid before dispatching Miss Isabel to the natural history exhibits on the upper floor.

His heart dropped as he’d imagined she would carry the flowers herself.

“I only want my hands free,” she said, catching his expression and intuiting his thoughts most impressively.

“I see. And here I thought they weren’t sufficiently romantic.”

“No, you did well on that front. Shall we, Albie?”

She smiled coyly at him, seemingly unfazed by the anxiety that afflicted him. Should he take her arm in his? That seemed appropriate, though not asdecisivelyappropriate as the bouquet. Yet she had mentioned wanting her hands free.

Must the English ways be so damnably complicated?

Daisy stood slightly in front of him, and so, separate but together, they ascended the white stone steps to the main gallery inside.

The walls were twice Albion’s height, which was saying quite a bit for a structure in London, with long windows to allow as much daylight in as possible, much like Dunc had his house constructed. From what he understood, natural light slowed the decay of the museum’s precious items, which he had to admit constituted a far grander collection than any he’d seen in the Hidden Realm. They strode past terracotta sculptures and other such relics of the ancient world.

“We should head directly for the Rosetta Stone,” Daisy told him.

“Fortunate discovery that,” he said. “The hieroglyphics deciphered and all.”

“Do I detect a hint of bruised pride that humans decrypted the archaic language before orcs?”

“Oh, we have our mysteries from the past to solve.” He swung his hands behind his back to steer around the chattering crowd headed for the collection’s most prized object.

“Have you any collection of the like in the Hidden Realm?” Daisy asked, easily keeping pace.

“We preserve relics from the time when Roman traders attempted contact. And older than that, still. Some dated before our ancestors split from the Orkadian culture in the northern islands. Human archaeologists have recently designated that epoch the ‘Stone Age.’ But we boast of no museums asmemorable as this place.” He gestured to the surrounding room, its high domed ceilings and magnificent windows. “We are a simple people, I suppose. Duncan would say there is honor in that.”

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