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”Careful, Bea. And smile at them, not my beta. Jude does not belong to you.” She looked around the chapel. Her eyes flitted from person to person, before settling on our Mother. Then her expression turned dark.
“Mama wants you. I can see her glaring. We shall speak afterwards.”
I pressed my lips together, wanting her to sit with us, but it was not to be. Mama’s face did not lose its fury when I moved into the pew next to her.
“How dare she bring that man to your sister’s blessing.” Mama growled at the sight of Jude standing next to Polly, his fingers playing with a strand of her hair which now reached her shoulders. She’d threaded a red ribbon through her hair, making her look much younger than her twenty-five years.
“Mama, do not be angry with Polly,” I hissed under my breath. I knew how much my mother despised the fact Polly didn’t care a fig for public opinion; detested the ton tutting behind their fans as Polly traipsed through London with her beta and so many scents clinging to her. She hated that Polly was a thief who advertised her exploits as if her robberies carried the same weight as what the royal family did. The actual aim of her highway raids was a carefully kept secret, even from our Mama. But mostly, our Mama hated my sister because Polly scared her. As little as I liked to admit it, our parents feared that Polly’s poor impulse control, anger, and her feral behaviour all pointed to the greatest threat to an alpha: an apex omega. “You would not wish to ruin Viola’s day by opening any of us up to the kind of censure I know you abhor.”
“Very well. But she should not be throwing her lovers in everyone’s face. Or pretend like she is…” Her jaw tightened. “Now I must go and escort your sister.”
Aye, there lay the rub with Mama. She loved us all fiercely, but struggled to understand the roads we had chosen. All but Viola, who’d not only made a name for herself amongst political circles but also married a duke. The role she’d so hoped I would take.
I looked over my shoulder at Mrs Markham, who sat with Hero and Mr Stimpson. The unassuming alpha was attentive to my young friend. A sense of rightness filled me. Hero might not be an omega, but she was… special. I recognised that special did not mean she needed an alpha to validate her. A beta could even be better—Jude was one such—but our society still put alphas before all. Nevertheless, someone like Stimpson might be just the thing. His devotion was so apparent that I could imagine he might not seek an omega—especially with such a prize as Hero.
To my surprise, it was Iris who escorted Viola down the aisle. We’d none of us expected her to return to England so soon. Her letters hinted at a budding romance between her, the countess of Kellingham, and Caroline Wilson. Then her next letter stated she planned to return in time for the blessing. What had taken place between the three of them?
Side by side, the twins were near indistinguishable except for Viola’s gown and pregnant belly. Growing up, they’d been two peas in a pod. The differences had started when she and Viola had presented. Two so alike, and yet within a fortnight, everything changed. Viola, who if she’d been an alpha would have inherited, was an omega. And Iris, always happiest with her little experiments and books, was suddenly the one to carry all our fortunes. Hot on the heels of that, our Papa had died. I should have paid more attention then. I should have considered my younger sisters more, but I’d my own… not even worries. But I’d been so long out of the house that it never occurred to me to look after them. And surely sixteen had been old enough for them to have gone on well enough without an older sister sticking her oar in and upsetting their lives? Viola had blossomed… Iris less so.
Now I wondered at my youngest sister, and her affinity for making friends but pushing them away almost as quickly. Even with the prejudice of a sister’s affection, I knew that Iris was in danger of becoming intolerably tiresome. If we were lucky, she’d find some omega to take care of her and redirect her interests. If not, I worried she might turn into a veritable shrew, alienating us all.
When they reached the altar, Iris had a few short words with Orley before handing Viola over and returning to our mother’s side. My eyes, however, were focused on my mate and the alpha I’d shot. Jack’s eye was still swollen, and Pax… Not Pax. I should not think of him on such intimate terms. He was and always would be Lord Paxton to me. During the vows, they each turned towards me, and I felt the weight of their eyes on me. I dared not look away. I dared not show fear, for if their thoughts were anything like mine, they tended towards what the meaning of those vows and what it might mean to be saying the words. I’d not had the chance with Jack. Paxton, I’d refused. The three of us now stood witness to a blessing between a pair who would not have met if my sister had not been so driven and reckless. They had grown close, fallen in love. We had been brought in a forced proximity, and no love was lost between… How wrong. The love was lost. Did their thoughts tend in that direction? I could not tell except that in these moments I was the centre of their everything.
“With the Goddess’ blessing, you may now kiss the bride.”
I blinked. The ceremony was over.
Under the heat of afternoon sun and amidst the beauty of the formal garden, done in the Italian style, I watched my sister, now officially Duchess of Orley, stand with her husband—pressed indecently close. The wedding breakfast swirled about them but they appeared completely absorbed in one another. Envy creeped into my heart. Viola’s joy? Could that have been mine if I’d made different choices? If, instead of seducing Jack, I had made my curtsy to society, would I be the one marrying an alpha like Orley? The one leading political hostesses across the ideological spectrum. Envy could have morphed into anger, but I could not find it in my heart to be angry with her. Just because my own life was turbulent as a storm at sea did not mean I could not want the best for my clever sister. Already I had heard the impact she was making amongst political circles, though they would not appreciate the book she had plans to publish. I smiled to think of how Hippolyta had stolen her scribblings and threatened to publish them as pamphlets if Viola refused or dragged her feet.
No, I did not feel envy for her position or standing… Rather joy for her, and envy for what could have been.
“You look content.” An achingly familiar voice pulled me out of the what-ifs that held me captive.
“Jack,” I bowed, painfully aware that we were in public. Surrounded by my family and friends and assorted strangers.
“Still wearing men’s clothing, I see, despite the fact this is a wedding and a dress surely would be more appropriate.” His voice caressed, and his hand ghosted over the shoulder of my coat where my mating bite was.
“You know why I cannot.” I looked around. There were interested eyes on us, and I did not like the attention. “People will gossip if they see you… An alpha and unattached omega.”
“Except you have a mate. Why did you hide it? A Lovers' Circle—“
“Why do you wish to discuss that now?” I asked. “Someone might hear you and take you seriously.”
“Didn’t you say no one takes me seriously?” he purred. An alpha’s purr intended to soothe. It only made me bristle. “And no one is listening. They are here to stare at your sister… Trix—”
“You have no right to that name,” I snarled. “I might be your mate, but do not presume such intimacies.”
“I do have rights as your mate. By the old customs and laws. Give in, Trix. Be mine. Give in and be Pax’s as well.”
“I am not Lord Paxton’s anything,” I spat.
“And I am pleased to hear it. I want nothing from you.” Paxton purred.
I turned to face the other half of my torment. “That is a poor pun to make. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know very well that nothing means… My cunt,” I whispered.
“You aren’t normally this shy.” Paxton frowned.
“It isn’t shyness—“
