Page 6 of Romanced By the Orc

She’d spent nearly three-quarters of a year with her mother’s sister, Diana’s Aunt Penelope. In the end, what good had come of it? Mother still resented her and spent most of her time in Brighton. Father largely ignored her. Since her return to London, Diana had seen little of either of her parents. She suspected they hoped to avoid both their younger daughter and any residue of scandal.

Accustomed to having the townhouse to themselves, Diana and Lillian furnished the front parlor as they wished. Diana cut fresh blooms from the garden and placed them in a glass vase near her favorite leather-bound novels on the end table. Lil had the wall papered in the light mauve shades she favored. The large bay window granted a fine view of the unfinished street outside, cobbles with broad patches of dirt between them, and the horses and carriage passing and kicking up mud. After raining for the better part of the morning, the clouds traversed the sky at a speed sufficient to grant bursts of bright sunshine.

The space was cozy and inviting because it spoke to both their personalities. Still, the evidence of their diminishedcircumstances showed in the ragged corners of the carpeting and the dust collecting on the window panes.

“Do you not wish to help?” Lillian teased. “You must have practiced your needlework while staying with Aunt Penelope. Or do American girls not busy themselves with the like?”

“Oh, they learn the domestic arts as we do. And are often as captive to their homes as we are.”

“I thought you would find the politics and pace of life there most invigorating.”

“We’ve politics here to discuss.” While she missed the lively conversations around her aunt’s supper table, it had been Lil and Diana alone against the world for some time. She would never put an ocean between them again. “And I shall endure any social occasion to keep up appearances.”

She couldn’t have sworn to it, but thought she caught Lillian’s gaze flick over a small rip in her morning robe. Diana hadn’t Lil’s talent for assembling a smart outfit, nor did she manage a day without some stain or minor tear upsetting her best efforts to look respectable.

Such carelessness hindered her pursuit of a suitable husband. At least her mother would have said as much. Motherhadsaid as much, not that Diana paid any mind.

Regardless, Mother’s primary hope was vested in Lillian, a classic beauty with dark hair, expressive brown eyes, a refined nose, and a slender neck. In contrast, Diana’s eyes were too far apart and the area underneath them overly pronounced, making her look perpetually tired. All in all, she paled before her sister’s exceptional good looks and statuesque form.

“How did you cope at Lady Talridge’s supper?” Lillian asked.

Diana gave a dramatic sigh. “Well enough, I thought. Though she seated me next to the insufferable Sir Reginald Addington.”

“Reginald Addington?” Lillian halted mid-stitch, eyes wide. “Nigel Halman’s uncle?”

“Nigel?” A knot of guilt twisted in Diana’s belly.Nigel Halman was Lillian’s former fiancé.“Sir Reginald asked after you but failed to mention such a connection.”

“Likely to distance himself from the disgrace.”

“A year has passed. Surely the scandal sheets have acquired a taste for fresher tittle-tattle.”

Her sister proceeded to hem the petticoat in her lap. But from the wordless movement of her lips, Diana knew something was wrong.

“Come now. I can handle whatever news you bear.”

“Promise not to be irritable over it.” Lillian spoke with the authority of her two years on Diana.

“When am I ever irritable?”

Lillian held an awkward smile.

“Very well,” Diana allowed. “I won’t get irritable.”

“Nor cross with me.”

“For heaven’s sake, Lil. What has upset you?”

Her sister lifted her bottom, looking over Diana’s shoulder to the arched entryway to ensure no overly eager maid or footman loitered. Satisfied they were alone, she nodded at the morning papers on a table near the door.

“I’m sorry, Di.”

Diana followed her sister’s gaze and spotted the same scandal sheet that had bedeviled her in the past. She strode over and tapped it.

“If men of letters are intent on reviewing the tired gossip of seasons’ past, they shall fail to retain their readership.”

Lillian shook her head. “Not that one.The Post.”

Her stomach roiled. The Prince Regent supportedThe Post. And all the hangers-on who emulated every aspect of His Royal Highness’s existence, down to the minutest detail, counted among its subscribers.

---