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But dammit, I must first convince Jack. Then we could work together to bring the termagant to heel.
We found the duchess, her mother, and a Mrs Markham sitting under a large marquee.
“You are here! But where is—”
“You’ve no greeting for your husband and father of your child?” Orley growled. “Don’t stand. What are you doing out in the heat?”
She waved him away. “I see you often enough, but it is an age since I saw Lord Paxton or the Colonel.”
“Duchess, I hope to find you in good health,” I bowed. “Ladies.”
“Very good health. Who won? Did the Colonel overturn? Where is he?”
“I presumed he came to see you?”
“No…”
“Odd, that,” Orley winked at me. “And where is your sister?”
His taunt had my hands fisting at my sides.
“Oh, Beatrice became overheated and went to rest. Poor thing, with her pale skin and red hair,” Mrs Markham remarked, but her answer was directed at me rather than the duke. I narrowed my eyes at the widow. Was she being deliberately provocative? Because now the image of a naked Beatrice flashed across my mind. Was I some youngster only beginning to wonder what lay under an omega’s clothes?
“Perhaps Fordom had a similar idea. The heat is oppressive.” The duke’s ugly mug smirked at me. I wanted to punch that crooked nose. But more powerful was how I itched to run after Jack and confront the pair of them. I clenched my jaw as manners warred with the primal instinct to hunt them down and finally make my intentions clear.
“Ma’am, I must change out of these weeds.” I executed another bow, and returned to the house.
Jack
Beatrice.My mate Beatrice had just run from me.
Paxton had been touching her, pushing her neck to the side, seeing my mark on her. A mark I’d not seen fully healed. Instead of a wild jealousy, I’d relaxed, pleased he now knew the truth: Beatrice had a mate. Perhaps he did not have all the facts, but now he knew Beatrice was mated.
Mated to me.
Would he guess?
Over ten years I’d put her out of my mind any number of times, and then a year ago, Pax had met her at the Royal Academy. My headstrong omega had presented her paintings, gone into heat, and shot him. I’d nearly died that day. Pax with Beatrice, Beatrice shooting Pax, and the pair of them meeting in the most unexpected circumstances. I’d not known what to think. I felt, though. I felt the need to go to where she lived. Push through the door and help her through her heat, as was my right. My right, for she was mine, my mate, the only omega I’d ever knotted then, now, and in the future.
The only omega who mattered.
My stomach churned in anger. Whatever Pax had said to her… He’d scared her off before I’d a chance to greet my mate.
Mate.
It was worse than any punch I’d taken. Instinct roared, but needs must be tempered, for this was a civilised world, and I must be a civilised alpha.
Mate.
That word haunted me. Watching her sleep that morning ten years ago, my bite fresh on her mating gland. How her parents, who’d til that point been so accepting, had told me in no uncertain terms that I was not worthy of her. My estate so far below hers, they would not countenance the connection. Her omega father had hinted that when I could support us both, and close to the style she was accustomed to, our mating might be accepted. So much for their proclaimed lofty ideals. When it came down to it, the Hartwells, Christine in particular, were as pragmatic and materialist as any parents of an omega.
I’d been a young man, an alpha all too easily convinced that I’d taken the beautiful omega too soon, and too aware of the difference in our fortunes. I’d submitted, left, and been forced into the army. When there’d been no word from Trix, when I’d heard she’d been presented at court, had received offers of marriage, I knew my suit was done. I’d been correct in leaving, no matter how painful it was. Not just in my heart and pride, but my mate stain, which flared painfully when she was near her heat. Would I have submitted to the pressure and taken another omega as my mate, rather than be driven mad by our separation? Never. Madness was preferable to betraying my Trix. Then I’d met Pax. He’d lured out my darker, baser needs, distracted me from mourning my mate.
Mate.
I followed her scent like a bloodhound. My booted feet carrying me through a great hall and up a broad flight of stairs, until the second floor was reached. Wealth covered the walls, from damask silks to gilt furniture, and paintings Pax would no doubt want for his own collection. All the splendour, wasted on me as I hunted down my quarry.
What strange compulsion drove me to find her and claim her? I’d spent the last year turning Pax’s mind away from her. In a strange twist of fate, Pax had met her sister and his alpha instinct to protect and control had reared its fearsome head. No words of caution had helped. No, he managed to convince himself, and then me that it was our duty to watch over Viola.
