“Then what should I call you?” I asked, amused by her sensitivity.
“Hartwell. I prefer when you call me Hartwell.”
“As you will.”
“You are not what I expected,” the words burst from her. While I had grown resigned to the readiness with which she pronounced her every thought, this admission demonstrated her youth in a charming manner. With her politics, thoughts on the management of the estate—so far as she was privy to my correspondence—all that she spoke with a surety that no longer surprised me. Then in other moments, her impressions on something or other, some person, some book she found on my shelves, a comment on her home life, which I’d begun to suspect was more complicated than she let on, she showed her newness to the world. There existed a purity in her soul that, given her choice of profession, might be destroyed with very little work. I did not want that. I did not desire another cynic to populate the world or become a politician. Now that I had felt the fresh breeze of Hartwell, I desired to protect it in hopes it would blow away the stuffiness I found so oppressive.
“How’d you mean?” I asked, holding back a smile. There was something about Hartwell I liked in an obscure way. Not in any intimate way… I shut that thought down before it had a chance to mature.
“I thought you would be proud. But you are no more proud than you ought to be. You take your responsibilities seriously. Your tenants are fairly treated, though perhaps your time spent in the country accounts for that.” she glanced out the window as if something caught her attention before looking at me once again with those unusual purple eyes. “You ain’t cold. They call you the Parson Duke. But again, again, again! you defeat my expectations. You ain’t mean with your money or time with your tenants and dependents. I said that already. You might not eat meat and be a teetotaller, but you are addicted to sport.”
”If I’d known you would hardly take a breath between periods, I’m not sure I would have hired you. Oh, do not frown at me cub... Hartwell,” I corrected myself with a chuckle. She flushed, lowered her head, and proceeded to look up at me through ridiculously long lashes. A coquettish tactic for an omega. Charmingly innocent on this peculiarity I had introduced into my life. “But do not hold a mirror to catch my likeness before examining your own.”
“Oh! You ask me so charmingly to decline some invitation or to tell your steward to take on some new task... Then you must go and wrap censure in silver paper.”
Impulsively I tilted her chin so that our eyes met. By all the saints, one could drown in those violently violet orbs, which conveyed every feeling in the cosmos. I could believe the poets, who said eyes were the window to the soul. But now I needed her to see the sincerity of my next words. “You. Are. A. Scamp.”
She gasped, and a little pink tongue licked her lips, which I followed with a strange clenching feeling in my chest I had not experienced in a while.
“Come. Let’s have that desk moved. I won’t have you working here for fear you urge my people to some mad scheme. I must keep an eye on you should you start a rebellion in my absence.”
My words urged action, but we stood there a little longer in a strange battle of wills. There were few peaceful instances of physical contact between alphas. This, however, felt so natural that I did not wish to break away. It took restraint not to allow her to stay here and move my own work here. I was surprised to find myself considering such an indulgence. But this was my house, and I would be the one to hold my ground and not bend to youth. I had expected some upheaval to my home with the introduction of this young alpha, but nothing could have surprised me more than my ready acceptance of her daily presence. Such was the ease at which she slotted into my routine that I considered returning to the topic of the widowed countess. Since that first day when I’d taunted her with the idea that she would be responsible for easing my way into the countess’s life, neither of us had raised the subject again. I forgot it except in passing. Then forgetting again when I was in Hartwell’s presence. When I remembered, it did not surprise me that she hadn’t raised the issue either. I made plans to do so the next day, but before I had the chance my surprising secretary had a bone to pick with me. I bit back a smile as she stood before me, the speech she had written, which I had read and balled up ready for the fire, tight in her fist.
“You… Your Grace must see how very important it is for this bill to pass,” she ground out.
“And why is that?” My gaze flicked to her face and stayed to observe the play of emotions. Those violet eyes were addictive and soothed my soul more effectively than any cure known to man or the Goddess. Even when they flashed with anger and barely suppressed frustration, I found a perverse comfort in them. “Well, secretary mine...”
”Lady Clare,” she bit out. “Lady Clare, the countess you seek to marry. If this bill passes she, my sisters, all omegas will be protected should they become widows without a mate bond... Or should they have no alpha children or siblings to inherit what parts of the estate that are not entailed.”
Her chest heaved when she finished. I leant back, observing Hartwell as if I’d never seen such a strange creature before. One both far-seeing beyond her years and yet blind to the realities of our society.
“Sit,” I ordered. Her jaw clenched. There was rebellion in her eyes. I nearly chuckled. She looked ready to rip my throat out. There would be no warnings before she moved to end my existence. I would be dead in a second if she had her way, and all because I ordered her to sit as if she had not delivered such an impassioned speech. “Sit. I will talk to you of this bill and why its outcome shall not alter my plans.”
Ever irascible, Hartwell, instead of taking the chair in front of my desk, came around and dragged one of the side chairs over, allowing its legs to pull against the fine Abyssinian carpet. “Petulant child. I seek to open your eyes, not lecture you.”
“Well?” She crossed her arms and sat back. “Instruct me, Master.”
Masterhad my blood heating, though perhaps not in the way she would like. The vision of instructing my secretary took a turn in my imagination. Let her learn how dark the desires of a fully grown alpha could be. I’d put that mouth to better use. Have those violet eyes flash with a different kind of passion. I would school her, and she would say thank you.
“You’ve read the bill?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
”Yes.”
”You’ve read it andstilldo not see that it won’t come into law until after her period of mourning.”
”But that is no matter!” she said. “Our laws do not prohibitex post facto. They can come into effect prior to their passing. I can list… I admit this is not well-conceived for many reasons, but in this case—“
”Do you really believe that the Crown would willingly give up such an estate as Kellingham?”
“Are you arguing with the law?”
”That isn’t how the world works,” I growled. “The Crown will do what they can to hold on to the estate. And,” I scrubbed at my face. “And we must consider that Clare died almost a year ago. They shall take it into account and use it against your petition. A prohibition onex post factois central to common law.”
“But...” her face fell. I moved to stand before her.
”If perhaps it had been a month, we could have petitioned the Crown. But a year? No. I’m sorry,” I rested a hand on her shoulder. “Come have a drink.”
“You don’t drink.”