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JACK
A footman openedthe door into the dining room. It was at the front of the house, the curtains drawn, and, like most rooms in Pax’s house, stuffed with priceless works of art. I heard the sharp inhale as Beatrice took in the stacks of artworks. I put her on her feet and let her circle the room, her fingers dancing along frames and the ends of canvases alike.
“I…” She looked around the dining room. “You hoard.”
“You’ve said that often enough. I’m amazed you find it novel,” Pax humphed, clearly amused by the twinge of accusation in her voice. Whether he recognised it or not, he was putty in her hands. Any attention she paid him he soaked up, filling him with alpha purpose. He coveted more than her beauty, and I wondered how long before he could give voice to those tenderer feelings. Goddess, how long before she gave in and looked past his controlling behaviour to see the man I’d come to know better than myself. Or had she already.
I watched them flirt with their eyes as he turned a smaller painting around. His smirk met with a playful shake of head and an eye roll.
“You don’t like it?”
“You no doubt paid too much.”
“Probably.” He put it back and twitched a cloth over the stack in the corner.
“I mean… You hoard all these treasures and how can you appreciate all this art if you can never look at it? It is a crime!”
I pushed her towards the settee, which I’d asked the servants to move to the dining room, and filled with cushions for our still wounded omega.
“Behave.” I pointed in her face. She made a kitten-like snap with blunt white teeth but settled against the cushions with a satisfied sigh.
The doctor had at last permitted her to have real food, though it could not be rich, but our omega was more pleased with the knowledge that sweets were once again back on the menu.
“Meat is back on the menu,” Pax groaned with pleasure as the servants brought in lunch. The savoury smell of pair of roasted fowl and a bloody cut of beef filled the room.
“How Vi can survive without meat is beyond me.” Trix bit into a thick slice Pax had cut for her. “Syon’s vegetarianism is barbaric.”
“Still manages to look like a beast,” I reminded her.
“Heathens, both of you. Talking with your mouths full.”
“My lord, I am coming off a diet of broth, pork jelly, and a concoction devised by the doctor. I’d use my fingers—”
“I’ll suck them clean,” I offered with a lascivious grin.
“Eat something, Pax. It is delicious.” She held the fork to his lips. I watched, fascinated, as it took the morsel in his mouth. “You like meat on your tongue?”
“Wench!”
After our meal, Beatrice closeted herself with Mrs Hubbard to discuss the household. Meanwhile, I had my own discussions. Pax lounged on our mate’s sofa in the dining room, while Meeker stood by the window, blinking at the sunlight.
“Really, lor’ship? The sun?”
“You ain’t allergic to the stuff,” Pax huffed. “It’s gone ten and your day consists of flirting with Mrs Hubbard and distracting her from the work of running the house.”
“‘Haps not, but why so early when my arm is aching?”
“I want everything you have on Stimpson,” I ordered, allowing my officer’s bark to enter my voice. “Anyone with the name Stimpson. Anything in the Hells or taverns. The slums. I want all that information.”
“Then why not talk to her ladyship’s sister? The queen of the high toby didn’t manage that lofty position of hers for naught.”
“Miss Hartwell,” I reminded him. “I think, Meeker, your employer is entrusting you with our mate’s wellbeing.”
The beta straightened. His posture more like that of a soldier. “Aye, Colonel. Meant no disrespect.”
“Good.”
“Tell me more… So as I might have a better notion who to look out for.”
