Plucked by the Orc: A Regency Monster Romance (Regency Monster Romances Book 1) by Jenna Larkin

Author:Jenna Larkin [Larkin, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

What had he been thinking? After retreating from the drawing room and back into the relative safety of his library, Duncan shut the oak door with a mighty thud. And then he did something he hadn’t bothered with in a long time. He reached for the iron key set adjacent to the door and thrust it into the space, locking the door behind him with a satisfying click.

And what had this woman done to him? His claws were still retracted, and he detected a sheen of sweat on his brow. He grasped the monogrammed handkerchief he kept in the pocket of his waistcoat. Dash it all. How many of these items had he gone through? Mother had told him he should engage a valet to attend to his personal upkeep. Tasks such as hand washing delicate garments and unmentionables.

Duncan had resisted the idea because, deep down, he didn’t want a human to get too close to him. Mrs. Thompson was amiable and even warm at times, as was the unflappable Clemons. He knew it hadn’t been easy, growing accustomed to serving someone who looked so strange to them at first blush. But he never intended for any other humans to take up residence here.

Until he saw Iris Gabbert and her flowers, and something in her demeanor and form tugged at his heart in a way he hadn’t known since the time before Lady Margaret Hathaway destroyed him.

Duncan eyed the sideboard and the cabinet beneath it. By the clock on the mantelpiece, it was not yet one. He kept to a strict rule never to indulge in alcohol before dinner. Though he hated nothing more than breaking his own rules, Duncan felt so out of sorts that he strode to the cabinet and withdrew a crystal tumbler and a bottle of brandy. Since it was so early in the day, he would stick to the weaker human stuff rather than grabbing the more potent Orcan varieties.

He poured two fingers’ worth of brandy into the tumbler and downed it within the space of several seconds.

As he let the drink work its magic, calming his mind somewhat, he looked around the library. Once, this had been a sacred sanctuary for one, which only admitted Albion on occasion when they needed to discuss something without the prying ears of the other gentlemen at their club listening in. Here, Duncan read, wrote, and pondered matters relating to his book. Mrs. Thompson came in to give the room a thorough cleaning weekly. Otherwise, the library was his alone.

He had been content alone. Hadn’t he?

Since the arrival of Iris Gabbert, the thick cards he posted on the easel for Iris’s daily lessons had dominated this space. Today, he meant to demonstrate the curious inflections of those who came from regions in and around Yorkshire. After he’d broken Iris’s trust in him with the liberty in the drawing room, that lesson couldn’t happen today, and probably not any other day for that matter.

He spotted a violin tucked

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