My secretary wooing the countess? I nearly told them the truth.
“I don’t tell my secretary how to spend her time,” I lied. “Besides, she’s too young an alpha to be seriously sniffing after omegas.”
“Alpha? Sniffing after omegas? Are you still going along with that ruse? Very well. Suit yourself. I wash my hands of all Hartwells and urge you to do the same. Unless you plan to take your little secretary in hand?”
I growled at the thought of taking my hand to Hartwell and spanking the insolence out of her. How I’d already done so and been interrupted before making the correct impression. But just as quickly thrust the image away in case my scent changed and the others perceived my... My interest in that depraved image. I looked between them. A truly odd pair to be sure, but then who was I to judge? I tossed and turned every night haunted by a patchwork dream of violet eyes and a scent of violets mixed with vanilla.
“Very well. I’ll speak to Hartwell, see what she can do. Do you have any idea where I might find Iris?”
Paxton relaxed as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“You just took a weight off my shoulders. Viola… She is a brat. I’d rather not hang for strangling her. Better to get Iris to do something.”
“Since when do you use their christian names?” Fordom laughed before taking snuff. He shook himself like a dog and then looked off into the distance. “Goddess save me from all omegas, especially those called Hartwell. I might jest on occasion but tangling with Beatrice was always purgatory.”
“It is hell,” his friend snapped.
“No, Pax. Purgatory. You are welcome to it, for I’ll none.”
“The two of you have issues,” I said. “Tell me where I can findIrisHartwell and explain to her how it’s to be.”
“Likely here,” Paxton sighed. “It is why I wished to speak with you first.”
I grunted and with a brief nod left them in the darkened passageway. Back in the well-lit rooms where the murmurs of conversation intermingled with shouts of laughter, I looked for my quarry. My hunt was in vain. Instead, I came upon Florey and a pack of his cronies rolling dice.
“Your grace, will you join us?” Viscountess Gale asked. She was a Whig by convenience, and I could see the taunt in her eyes. I found myself bristling.
“Another night, perhaps. Florey, I look for your niece. I don’t suppose you know where I might find her?”
“Is she here?” Gale looked around, clearly curious about my secretary, which set my teeth on edge.
“Oh, leave the girl alone!” An ancient alpha protested. “She is having fun. Let the children play!”
“I believe she left a little while ago,” Florey said. “But I cannot be sure.”
“My thanks,” I gave the table a bow and left them. However, when I reached the door I threw a glance over my shoulder. Florey was looking at me, his face pinched with worry. Perhaps he was aware of his niece’s doings. But he had no need to be. I had every intention of leading Hartwell back to safe waters where I could keep an eye on her.
I left, hoping that she’d hung about… And I was in luck.
Hartwell laughed with an alpha male I’d never seen before. The pair had their arms linked and looked so at home in each other’s company that I resented their obvious intimacy.
“Hartwell,” I barked. She did not respond. “Iris Hartwell.”
She turned towards me, and I saw the colour leave her face—a guilty conscience, no doubt. For a moment I did not recognise her as her face lacked its usual carefree smile.
“Excuse me, Your Grace,” she bowed low. “May I introduce you to my friend, Mr Arthur Jones. Arthur, this is His Grace, the Duke of Orley.”
“I must speak with you, Hartwell,” my emotions were whirling, all because my Hartwell had a friend she’d never mentioned. I did not trust myself in front of the innocuous alpha with a weak chin.
“Arthur, go ahead to my uncle's. I will meet you there in a moment,” she said. “Your Grace, shall we go inside?”
“No. The square will do.”
We crossed the quiet street and into the square.
“You are wooing the Countess for yourself,” I snapped. In truth, I did not care about that bit of gossip. I knew the truth. Rather I did not feel quite so comfortable with this version of my secretary—so much stiffer than I was used to. Bringing up the countess seemed as like to provoke her temper as anything. “Paxton brought me the news.”
“Your Grace, ‘tis a falsehood only a knave would spread! I would never, could never woo in secret. That you would think I could confounds me. Perhaps consider that Lord Paxton don’t know what his business and what isn’t,” she said through gritted teeth. “If you know anything of me, you cannot believe that gossip. I, of all alphas, would never once seek to bring talk to an omega. My sisters are embroiled in enough scandal and pranks to turn a young alpha ancient. Have you thought, perhaps,” and she looked around, lowering her voice even though none could hear us. “Perhaps if I were to wish to woo her, I would do so honestly? Like an alpha.”