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“True meeting of hearts. True mates! We have spent many hours in conversation. Are you to tell me that was a lie? You are the one who gives me hope. You give me kindness. Not the duke. I do not care for him. I do not know him. I love you.”
“Olivia, you do not love me. Not truly,” I drew her to a chair by the fire and not so gently pushed her into it. Her scent flared, and I perceived my mistake. No omega would use force as I had. I cursed myself but pressed on hoping my words would get through to her. “You, perhaps, love the romance of an alpha coming here in secret to woo you. But this is no novel written for omega’s fantasy. Love does not happen upon you suddenly—“
“But I am not saying it did! From the first, I knew I could trust you. Love grew with each passing day.”
“You mean my sister.” Though I was not sure I meant my sister or me. What a muddle. Syon was correct. I made things too complicated.
“No, you! I would know your eyes anywhere. I swear upon all. It was, it is you I love! Please. Take me from this prison and make me yours!”
For all her ardour, the little omega had stayed in her seat by the fire. I wondered if an alpha would be crossing to her, taking her up in their arms, and… What, I could not know. Growl at her? Purr for her? Kiss her? I tried to think what I would want in such a moment. I would have crossed to him. I knew. I would have crossed to Syon and forced him to look at me. Because his resolve was great, and he would not want to give in. That was not his way. He was civilised.He is also feral, my traitorous heart reminded me.When you fought with him, when you changed behind the screen and he sat there. When you tasted him and wanted more. Then there was something dangerous lurking in his eyes. He would not care if I was man or woman, alpha or omega—no, I was wrong. His desires were as confused as Olivia’s because they did not know the truth.
I wanted to flee to Syon, put my arms about him, and beg him to hear my tale. To forgive me or not, I did not care. All I knew was that this charade must come to a conclusion.
“I am sorry, Olivia. I am not what you want. Give me a day and I shall prove to you that you deserve better than this shadow puppet you’ve known these past weeks.”
Like a coward, I ran from her and did not stop running until I’d arrived at Weymouth Street. I stood in front of the house and was violently sick, but the acidic taste was nothing compared to my own heart’s bitter anguish at all I had done to two whose friendship and happiness I valued more than my own. When had it all gone so wrong?
* * *
I wrote to Iris the next morning begging her to return. I would not be able to unmask myself without her presence. She would strip my mask free. And, like Beatrice, I would become yet another scandalous omega by the name Hartwell. It was necessary. I could not do this for a moment longer.
The letter sent, I sat at the small table in the drawing room, unable to form coherent thoughts. My stay in London was over. But as yet, I had no notion of how to see through to the end of the game without sacrificing the queen, without sacrificing my own dreams and happiness. It would be worth it though, I had to convince myself of that. Syon and Olivia, together or apart—they’d know the truth and be better off without me.
“His Grace, the Duke of Orley,” Roberts called.
“The Duke?” I gasped, sounding quite stupid. I stood, causing my chair to clatter to the ground.
“Yes, Miss Viola.”
“I…”
Roberts was thrust aside, and Syon walked in as if it were his own home. He was dressed for riding and clutched a crop in his hand. His hair was in disarray as if he’d run his hands through his golden locks. It only emphasised the frown which crossed his face on seeing me alone. With a curt word, he dismissed Roberts. I bit my lip. This duke would see nothing amiss in his high handed manner. Roberts, however, waited until I told him to order some tea.
“Your Grace,” I curtsied. “I am afraid you find me alone. My aunt has gone out and my uncle is not here. If you wish to leave a note...”
“Your sister? Not home? Good,” he asked but did not move any further into the room. “My manners. You are Miss Viola Hartwell.”
He came forward to grab my hand in his, staring at it as if it were a disagreeable letter from his steward. He dropped it abruptly without shaking it or—heaven protect me—kissing it, leaving me bereft of his touch. His manners were odd. I had never seen him display any nervousness. But today he gripped his crop and tapped it against his thigh. My mind went straight to the day he had spanked me, and I felt my core tense with need. He could not scent me, I reminded myself. If there was slick, he’d not notice it. I closed my eyes, breathed in and released both to find him watching me keenly.
“Is this a bad time?” Syon asked. “I had hoped...”
“My aunt is not at home. I said that already…” I swallowed unsure how I felt about the propriety of speaking with him without a chaperone. I did not fear for my virtue, but I was alive to the very real possibility that if ever I were to be caught in my deception it would be now when he could see no difference between me and my facsimile. Or if someone else came in and perceived this to be a compromising situation. I could end up married to him. Married and unmated. Could I accept that? Knowing he might find a mate? Knowing what we had done together while he thought I was Iris? I tugged at the collar of my dress.
“We will keep the door open then.”
I gave the barest nod and invited him to sit. He declined and strode to the window, looking out onto the street, still beating his crop against his thigh. The room was so quiet that one could hear the clock tick. I glanced at it and watched as the time crept on. Five minutes and the hour chimed.
“I have made a decision,” he said. “But, I wanted to see you first. You are close with your twin, are you not?”
“If you mean Iris, I am, your Grace.”
His eyes flashed. “Call me Syon.”
“It would be improper,” I hedged and faced the fire for fear I might give something if I could see him.
“More improper than coming into this room with me?”
“I did not come! You came!“
