Page 31 of A Tale of Two Dukes

Many envy us, the Alphas, the elite of England. However, if they knew even half of it… The responsibility that plagues us is astounding. Why, if I had never been born an Alpha, I’d still be with my biological parents, taking up the family trade no doubt.

For the Dowdings to take me in as one of their own, to nurture me as they did, I will be forever grateful. They shaped me just as much as my birth family, and yet, they understand me on a level my own parents never could. As beta born, they wouldn’t have been able to handle my Alpha aggression or even be able to teach me to channel it.

Resting my head on the door, I let my mind wander for just a moment. Even now, I’m sure my father is heading to the mines. Mother, no doubt, is kissing him on his forehead as he leaves for the day. Though I send money to keep them comfortable, my father is a stubborn man.

‘A man is not a man without a trade,’ he’d grumble. And in many ways, I agree with him. I still feel so at odds with all this power and nothing to really do with it. I long to do things with my hands. Even if it’s merely tending a farm.

I cannot begrudge the privileges being an Alpha has afforded me, but some days, I would eschew it all in a heartbeat. However, the one good thing about my position is the omega waiting for me just behind this door. As the son of a miner, I would have no hopes of gaining entrance into The Rose and Thorne, much less purchasing so fine a gem.

Smile back on my face, I stride in and glance over at the bed. It’s neat and tidy, and very much empty. As I walk toward the bathing room, I pause, my senses assaulted by the stench of damp water and duress. Fucking Hugh. He’s the only one who possesses such a scent.

Kitty’s dress lies over the edge of the bed, and as I trail my fingers over the fabric, I feel the warmth that lingers from her skin. She has not taken it off that long ago. Why is another man’s scent on the clothing of my woman?

Grabbing the dress, I hold it to my nose, dragging their combined scents into my nostrils. It’s all over her. There was no way for this much of him to get onto her clothes unless they were touching. Anger sizzles through me despite knowing there has to be an explanation.

I toss the mass of fabric down onto the floor and storm into the chamber. Kitty’s squeak of surprise causes my balls to draw up, clenching tight. But I’m not here about my gratification anymore. I want answers.

She sits in the tub, her skin pink. A coarse rag hangs from her fingertips. Was the little minx trying to remove evidence of her meeting with this man? Perching on the edge of the copper tub, I stare down at her, taking in the widening of her eyes and quickening of her breath.

There’s no arousal that drifts through the air this time. Apprehension winds its way around her, flooding the air until I nearly choke on it. Something has my little kitten uneasy, and I’m determined to find out what it is.

“Sleep well?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I noticed a dress on the bed. Did you visit the modiste?”

“Not yet, Your Grace.” Her eyes slide to the side as she bites her bottom lip.

“Pray tell why you decided to get dressed and then take a bath. Seems quite the opposite order of things.”

Again, that scent of unease rises from her. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I put the dress on, then realized I didn’t want to go out. I desired a warm bath instead.”

I narrow my eyes as I watch her. Nothing about her screams that she’s lying; however, she’s certainly hiding something. “I take it you merely dressed, waltzed around the house, then came to bathe?”

“Not quite, Your Grace.” Her voice is small, soft. “I- I made it outside before realizing I’d rather save the modiste until you’re able to accompany me.”

The scent swirling her spikes, noting the lie as it drips from her lips. I’d find the situation laughable if I wasn’t seeing red at the very thought of Hugh’s hands upon her. As it is, I want to find him and rip him limb from limb.

“And you saw no one?”

“I saw servants, Your Grace. They do work here, you know.”

Saucy minx, trying to play with words. “And Hugh Beaumont?”

Her color pales even more, rendering her white as a ghost. “Pardon?”

“You heard me. Hugh Beaumont.”

“I- You mean the man from the club? I’m sure he was probably milling about somewhere.”

“Enough,” I roar, thrusting my hands into the water to grab her waist.

Her soft squeak of surprise has me rock hard despite the anger sizzling in my veins. Hauling her up, I care nothing of the water as it dampens my clothes and splashes to the floor. This is far more important. I drag her into the room and point to the dress where it lies crumpled.

“I demand to know why Hugh’s scent is all over your clothing. Such a smell doesn’t happen from someone passing by on the street. Did he touch you? Did he whisper pretty little things into your ear as he wrapped you in his embrace?”

“Please, Your Grace. I-”