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“Aren’t we alphas?” I asked, curious to see how far she would take it. My curiosity was piqued. I conjured up an image of a lithe body, leanly muscled, and perfectly proportioned. My feral side blossomed with anticipation at seeing her stripped bare. “We are alphas.”
“Mystery,” she cleared her throat. “Watching the transformation will take something from it. Don’t you think?”
“Is’t something else?” I frowned sensing there was more than preserving the illusion.
“I am not such a fine specimen of alpha. But,” she took in a deep breath. “An alpha must have her pride.”
“What do I care for that?”
She sucked in her lips, hesitating before confessing a little too quickly. “I have an injury. My leg…”
She pointed to the offending limb.
“Yet you fence…” It seemed preposterous since this lithesome woman moved with grace one rarely saw in an alpha.
“I fight to win fast. A long bout and I would falter.”
No need to press her further. Alphas disliked discussing their weaknesses. As we waited for a screen to be brought I felt a strange sympathy. By no means was she an impressive alpha, but there was some quality in her manner that attracted me. At last, I admitted my response to her was not an objective appreciation of her face and form. Something deeper than that… For it wasn’t just my blood that ran hot when she was near. I smiled more when she was near. I liked the sound of her voice, the scratch of her pen, and her predilection for split infinitives.
“How long will you be?” I asked as she disappeared behind the screen.
“Not long! You would think ours a strange household. My sisters are as like to wear breeches and ride astride as not. And they’ve dressed me in their garb for a laugh or to play some prank. My sister Viola and I are very like, which is why I am confident this trick will come off. But she only ever wears skirts. We are of a height… She don’t think she is omega enough. I hear the countess is different… A perfect omega.”
I crossed to the fire and stared into its depth trying to remind myself why the countess was the solution to my problem. To put it down to being a female omega, who could provide me with an heir, wasn’t the entirety of it. I felt anger that she had been left exposed. The dead Earl had been the worst kind of alpha not to consider his young bride. But then I remembered my father—what little of him I remembered—and my mother—what little of her I wanted to remember—and the answer hit me again and again. To mate someone without due consideration to compatibility was a fate worse than death. True, my beliefs hinged greatly on my grandparents as well. They had not mated but instead found mates later. My grandmother spoke fondly of the six of them spending weeks on end together. They had been happy. If they had not been other than they were, they could have formed a pack of four alphas and two omegas. But a duke or duchess must ensure it was their bloodline that carried on. And if I bonded a wife to me, and she found someone she truly wished to mate? It would be uncomfortable for all of us. An unwanted bond was a burden to all and could lead to ugly jealousy—just as it had with my own parents. That would be… I did not want to think of it. I kicked the smouldering logs. There seemed no fair way out but to take the countess, who once her time of mourning had ended would be thrown onto streets. If I married her, she would have a home and place in society. Perhaps later we would be able to grow close and the possibility of mating could be raised once again. But for now, she needed the protection of a husband, and I could provide that.
“Your Grace?”
I spun at the sound of an unfamiliar, sparkling, undoubtedly omega voice with all its song-like tones. But it could not be, for my secretary Hartwell stood before me. The white gown was cinched tight, hinting at a trim waist and flared hips that were most pleasing. The loose trimmings around the neck revealed her breasts—I’d not thought of her breasts until that moment. She’d let her hair free from the simple queue and was running fingers through the loose curls. My fingers itched to take on the task.
“Well, Your Grace? How do I look?”
I did not have an answer and was immediately grateful for the high backed chair I stood behind because, by all that was holy, I was hard and needing for the vision in front of me. This not-Iris laughed and dipped into a graceful curtsy before gliding towards me. Still, I could not speak. My eyes traced along every line of the face and figure that I longed for on a primal level I’d never before experienced. The vision moved closer until it stood next to me. Those unique violet eyes met mine, and I was able to accept the truth. This must be some hallucination on my part. I froze, unable to explain what happened next. Not in ten long years… It was impossible, but I scented her. Violets and vanilla filled my being and belonged indisputably to an omega—one that made my blood run hot and base need cause my erection to press hard and heavy in my breeches.
“Whose scent is that?” I rasped out, unable to believe I could smell. I, who would not smell horse manure if I stepped in it. Since nineteen, I’d scented nothing, but now, the most heady scent in the world caused my body to thrum with need. I reached down to adjust my hard cock, to squeeze and hope to ease the ache in my knot and balls.
“It belongs to Viola,” her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Your twin,” I confirmed. Almost certainly too young for me, since I took Hartwell to be at best seventeen or eighteen. And there would be no doubt toherinnocence. I found myself screaming at my instincts which sought to claim the owner of this scent. If I thought Hartwell too young, her sister, not yet presented at court, was, without doubt, a forbidden fruit I would need to avoid at all cost. I was a peer of the realm, an alpha capable of controlling himself. Throwing away the plans I’d made all for the chance at a schoolmiss? Unthinkable. Especially a sister I had silently sworn to protect from any unsuitable alphas—alphas like Gale.
“Do you think it will do?” Hartwell asked. She took a step back, her body tense, those fine shoulders rising up to her ears. Almost, almost I could convince myself it was the act of an omega uncertain around a virile alpha.
“Yes, an excellent facsimile of an omega,” my words a rough growl, for I had breathed in and now my body thrummed with primal desire to conquer. I needed her gone before I did something that would embarrass us both. “You may go now. I have letters...”
“Oh, do you need my help?” Delicate fingers tucked a stray lock behind her ear. At last, I saw the smooth column of her neck where her mate gland would be if she were an omega. Thank the Goddess I had enough control to stop myself from reaching out to touch that soft skin, to scent her, chasing the first scent… A decade and it must be my secretary’s omega sister that I must smell.
For the life of me, I wondered how she could continue to sound so calm and unaffected by my own aroused scent—I may not smell it but I knew that it had spiked the minute I’d laid eyes on this Viola Hartwell mirage. Those eyes. I focused on the one thing I knew: Those violet eyes belonged to my Hartwell and no one else.
“No. Change and I will see you tomorrow,” I growled.
I gave her a swift, abrupt nod and left the library, going straight to my room, hoping to find some peace away from that intoxicating scent. Fuck, my aching cock! I gave into temptation and squeezed it hard through my breeches. I’d never had such a strong reaction to an omega’s scent before. I would not show any weakness to relieve myself, but when I crossed to the window in an attempt to let in the cold crisp air I saw her leave my house. Hartwell was once again the charming young alpha dressed in men’s clothing. The tricorn hat over her dark hair and tossing a friendly comment over her shoulder to Horne my long-serving butler.
I turned away more confused and more aroused than ever. The way my body responded to her in all her guises only hardened my resolve to marry the countess. I could not in good conscious take... I spun away and almost tripped over my feet to get back to the library. The screen was still there. I edged towards it, my heart pounded with equal parts hope and dread. Behind it, the dress she’d worn lay crumpled on the floor—a white stain on the richly coloured carpet. I brought the delicate cotton, better worn in summer than this cold February, to my face and inhaled. A growl escaped before I could control it. I needed to ensure I was never in the same room as Hartwell dressed in her sister’s clothes. For those sparkling eyes, that smart mouth paired with the smell of—I inhaled again—violets and vanilla. I wanted to lick every inch of her omega twin.
But I couldn’t. She wasn’t for me. If I wanted to secure the future of the dukedom and save an unmated widow from destitution I could never test my resolve by spending any time around Viola Hartwell.
