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CHAPTER FOUR

A s he escorted them inside, Albion stooped to avoid hitting his head against the rafters. A common enough problem when one was so wonderfully tall, Diana supposed.

Candlelight twinkled in the bronze sconces lining the dark paneled walls.

The dense beams slanted at an angle. The entire place held the warm, herbal fragrance of its signature soup.

Flames snapped in the fire burning in the stone hearth.

The high tea rooms and genteel shops at Burlington Arcade could not compare.

She felt a delicious sense of possibility here.

The tavern was situated on the ground floor of an inn, empty but for the woman and her family Diana had previously spotted through the window. Now, they quietly thanked the proprietor for a fine meal and headed toward the stairway, to retire to their room.

The innkeeper turned to Albion, Diana, and Isabel, greeting them with a broad smile and a hearty, “Lord Albion! You can’t get enough of that Santea soup, it seems.”

“Another ale for me, Ollie. And the ladies will sample your famous concoction.”

“Along with a lemonade for myself and Miss Isabel, if you please,” Diana offered.

“Straightaway. Now, I’ve a proposition for you, love. Tell me your honest opinion of the soup, and I’ll make it gratis for you and your miss.”

This Ollie fellow graciously steered Izzie to a high-backed stool in front of the bar, a spot that, while in their eye line, was at a distance sufficient to afford Albion and Diana some measure of privacy. They took seats across from one another at a long wooden table close to the hearth.

After Ollie brought out a steaming bowl of Santea soup for Diana and a tankard of ale for Albion, her Orcan friend folded his hands before him on the thick block of a table.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you?” Albion said. “Mind, I can’t promise to fix anything, but I can listen to your story. And I swear on my family’s honor that you shall have my utmost discretion.”

He spoke in a melodious baritone, revealing the serious man underneath the facade.

His demeanor portrayed little of the casual gent about town she’d witnessed the prior evening.

Bergamot and lavender cologne layered with his skin’s earthy, masculine scent.

His muscles strained at his fine clothes.

She had a sudden and extraordinary urge to touch the massive horns nestled amidst his abundant black hair.

Were they as provocatively smooth as they seemed?

“Thank you for the kindness, but I do not expect help with difficulties solely of my making.”

“Naming those problems aloud may prompt a solution of your devising. A catalyst, as it were.”

“Catalyst? Your mastery of our vocabulary is impressive, Lord Albion.”

He shrugged, momentarily discomfited. “Dunc’s influence. He has always been a gentleman of considerable learning. Come now. Give your tale free rein.”

“You do not know what the ton says about me?”

“Rumormongers invariably have a great deal to say about matters which are none of their concern.”

“Such as my indiscretion with a gentleman engaged to my sister?”

“One hears things, but I try not to set much store by gossip. You were discovered alone? Briefly? Why should either of you be faulted?”

The progress of that ill-fated night with Nigel Halman ran through Diana’s mind like scenes in a novel. They had both attended a rout following a performance of The Magic Flute at His Majesty’s Opera House. Nigel Halman entered the elegantly appointed Mayfair drawing room with Lillian on his arm.

God save her. She’d been bursting with envy at her sister’s good fortune. When it came to Lillian, Diana felt constantly caught between love and jealousy. Was that not how matters usually stood between siblings?

Well into the early hours of the following day, all but the hardiest souls had left the party.

At that point, Diana had imbibed two flutes of sparkling wine.

She persuaded Nigel to relay his opinion regarding the recent suspension of habeas corpus, an act he warned would have dire consequences.

She wandered about the perimeter of the men gathered to listen, itching to add her thoughts while the gents focused on their port.

How dare they ignore Nigel! It seemed to Diana that her sister’s intended was the cleverest man in the room and charming besides.

How little she’d known then of the wiles of charming men.

Shame tightened her chest. “We flaunted Society’s rules. That is why I agreed to leave London. The whispers needed to fade away. And my sister required space to breathe.”

“She ended her engagement over the matter, did she not?”

“Lillian discovered that her fiancé’s character was not admirable.”

“I cannot see why this unfortunate fact reflects poorly on your sister. Or you, for that matter.”

“Sweet Albion,” she murmured. “How innocent you are.”

“Innocent?” His eyes widened. “I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of such a thing.”

“I was alone with my sister’s fiancé.”

“Hardly a crime, in my humble and ‘innocent’ opinion.”

“Yet the ugly stories have risen again.”

“How ugly?”

“We were said to harbor an inappropriate affection for one another.”

The entire matter had been pathetic, from Nigel Halman’s sloppy, drunken attempts to steal a kiss to their hostess’s overly dramatic gasp when she witnessed this compromising moment.

Diana cast an anxious look at Izzie. The whispers of servants could be every bit as vicious as those of the ton .

But Izzie merely continued to enjoy her meal and Ollie’s company.

“If I told you I hadn’t heard the gist of this tale, you would rightly mark me as a liar,” Albion said. “Though I only learned of your banishment as of late. This fellow’s behavior was ungentlemanly. Yet you suffer for it.”

He sounded furious, not with her, but on her behalf. Ironically, his anger calmed her. Diana tried a sip of the famous Santea soup. It tasted of ham, mace, aniseed, and cloves, heartier and far tastier than the thin consommé at Lady Talridge’s supper.

“Do not hold yourself accountable for maintaining impossible standards,” he continued. “If I may state so without giving offense.”

“On the contrary, I appreciate your candor. I find it refreshing to meet a gentleman who speaks plainly. I rather like it.” Diana gazed up at him with an intensity that would have surprised her had she seen it reflected in a looking glass.

“Since you speak plainly, I shall grant you the same courtesy. I admit I once partook gladly of tittle-tattle. What a cruel and silly moppet! Now, it pains me to say, the rumor has spread beyond whispers at parties and the scandal sheets. It has landed in a respectable gazette of a political nature. A gentleman known as B.D. broached it in a piece published this morning in the Prince Regent’s paper.

How can I face Society when even the Regent knows of the scandal?

But I suppose it is no more than I deserve. ”

“I wouldn’t tax yourself with worry on that front. Prinny isn’t renowned for the complexity of his opinions. Nor for his sterling memory.”

“Prinny?” Only the Regent’s closest confidantes used that nickname. Her father and his friends never would have dared.

“It’s a silly name,” Albion said. “Yet he asks to be called that. What can one do? Anyway, I cannot speak to the Prince Regent’s opinion on this matter, nor my own, I’m afraid.

I have not seen the article. What else did this gentleman—and I use that terminology loosely, given that he has caused such distress—write? If you care to continue the sad tale.”

“I prefer not to give the vile piece further credence by reciting it aloud. If you are curious, it is in print for all who wish to read.”

“If dishonoring a lady is the best this fellow can manage, I shan’t devote a ha’ penny to the paper.”

Diana raised her tankard of lemonade in a toast. He clanked his pewter tankard against hers, playing along.

“My sister thinks the only way I might rid the ton of their interest in this lurid story is to marry,” Diana told him. “To ally with a powerful family who will protect my reputation.”

Albion traced the rim of his tankard. She caught sight of his claws once more. “Might you allow me the liberty of another personal question?”

“I welcome it.”

“Are you inclined to marry? To marry at all, I mean.”

“No one has ever done me the courtesy of asking as much. Odd that. My family assumes I will wed. Society believes young women wish for nothing else.”

“An astute observation, but not a response.”

The earnestness in his amber eyes compelled her to continue. “In truth, I never thought I would marry. I’m not sure my temperament allows for it. Do you find that extraordinary for a lady of two and twenty?”

“Matters considered extraordinary in London are anything but in the Hidden Realm. While I enjoy the many pleasures of this city and the company of its citizens, your land lacks equality of the sexes. It is most troubling.”

“Equality?” She couldn’t recall hearing the word before in relation to affairs between gentlemen and ladies. “How so?”

“In the Hidden Realm, women partake in business and governance as men’s equals. They choose to partner or not with no shame in either decision.”

“Such talk makes me long to visit your homeland, circumstances permitting. Were it not for my sister, I would repair to parts elsewhere at once. We sometimes drive each other to our wits’ ends, but I don’t feel quite myself when we’re apart.”

“I understand the complicated relationship between siblings all too well. And my brother would venture to say that your very desire to leave the city puts you on a higher plane than most Londoners.”

“Have you the same low opinion of the English?”

“Not in the slightest. I find it unjust to judge an entire people as one. Everyone deserves the presumption of honor until they demonstrate otherwise by word or deed.”