* * *
When I reached Bond Street, I froze. Paxton stood on the corner with a gentleman I did not know. I hesitated a moment too long. Paxton looked up, saw me, and signalled for me to go to him. I had dreaded seeing him again.
“Young Hartwell. This is Colonel Fordom,” he motioned to the other alpha, who doffed his hat but made no move to leave. I’d thought Paxton’s silvery handsomeness broody but this Colonel Fordom hinted at dark secrets, dark thoughts, and dark passions. Yet I experienced a ghostly familiarity, long ago memories paired with hazy recollections that I should know him… Inexplicably he smelt like Bea. I pushed away the thought. There were no military men in our circle of acquaintance and the only Fordoms I knew were in Edinburgh, a family of beta printmakers. I could not imagine these two alphas tempered each other but rather urged one another towards greater heights of depravity.
“Good day, Sirs,” I bowed and attempted to move on.
“Viola. Stop,” he snapped.
I froze. How could he know who I was? I had been so careful. For sure, he had not known me the first time we met at the club, but since then had he met the real Iris? Because for all of our similar colouring, up close there was one very obvious difference. My twin had dark brown eyes. Damn Iris, when had she met Paxton? Had she met him that same fateful night she’d spoken to Syon? What a mess. I made up my mind to have Iris only come up to town if summoned. Damn alphas and their freedoms.
“You have no right to use that name,” I hissed. “And I have no problem in calling you out for speaking of mysisterlike that.”
“Dammit. Stop!” His alpha bark made me wince but did not have the power over me as an alpha’s bark might have had before I began working for Syon. I’d built some immunity to them. “You think I want to be entangled in another public scandal with your family? Enough that I have to deal with your shrewish sister—“
“Leave the fair Beatrice out of this, Pax,” Fordom admonished. “You know you don’t mean it.”
“Enough. Both of you. Viola, consider the dangers of your foolhardy prank. If Orley, if he finds out what you are doing...”
“You have no right to that name. Nor do I know why you believe I am my omega sister,” I spat. “I know what I am doing. I am his secretary—”
“We do not live in a forgiving society. I know you to be a sensible and clever young woman. Risibly young for this farce.” He hissed his next words, “You are an omega. You are Viola Hartwell. But, I won’t have... Your sister hates me enough, but if she knew what you were doing and that I did nothing to stop it?”
I blanched, then flushed with anger. “You think... You presume to care for my reputation?”
“It seems no one else in your family will, child,” Fordom interrupted before Paxton could respond. “While I do not know your story, if I were you, I would pull out. Just tell Orley you are going home to Hertfordshire or back to Oxford.”
”You have no right,” I snapped. I would have loved to scream but could not afford to bring more attention to us.
“You’d be surprised what rights I have,” Fordom said with a grim smile.
“You’ve no notion...” Paxton growled on top of his friend’s words.
I looked back and forth between the two alphas and wondered why I had not heard about them from my sister before. Hard as I tried, these two men brought forward no memories. Yet their every action, their every word spoke of an intimacy with Beatrice that surprised me. She spoke her mind freely and if she did not like these gentlemen, surely she would have warned me of them when I came to town. Instead, I had a near violent run-in with Paxton the first time I met him.
“You could ruin me... I promise to... I promise not to be too reckless. That is what I told Iris,” I bit my lip and gave them the same look that I’d used on my Mama on far too many occasions for her to have been fooled every time. But the two alphas before me seemed convinced that it would do something to hold back my more wild schemes… If only they knew.
“I shall keep an eye on you, Viola. As if I were your brother, since it appears your alpha relatives are incapable of doing so themselves,” Paxton glared.
“He’ll keep an eye, I’ll keep two. Take care, Miss Viola Hartwell,” Fordom flicked my cheek. “Come Pax. I believe you promised me a quiet afternoon, yet so far you’ve only caused the lovely Miss Hartwell…”
He drew Paxton away. I watched them longer than I should have, glad they were not my alphas. I preferred Syon’s quiet teasing and flashes of dominance compared to Paxton’s intensity and the quiet mockery in Fordom’s eyes.
* * *
The following Saturday, I was once again visiting with Olivia. The more I came to know her, the more I grew to admire the very qualities I had so rejected in the early days of our acquaintance. Her book learning was not great, but from lack of opportunity rather than application—her father and mother hadn’t the resources to give her beyond the basics of education. In its place was a natural ability to play whatever instrument came her way and a beautiful singing voice. There were many days when I found myself longing to listen her to play and sing, for they soothed ruffled nerves and these were the moments when she blossomed. I liked seeing her happy. Today was one such day. I sat next to her, turning the pages of some new piece of music she had received that morning.
“Without your company these past weeks, I do not know how I would have managed,” Olivia confided when she’d finished and we’d returned to her favourite sofa by the fire. “The weather has been so grey...”
I took her little hand in mine and squeezed it. “Soon it will be Spring and then Summer. You will get to see flowers...”
“No, my dear friend... Youaremy friend, you know. My dear friend, I need you to know that I have no expectations to enjoy... You are so sheltered from society. You remind me of myself when I first married. Though I confess there are times when you seem to have seen more of the world than I. You must understand that without the expectation of a husband I shall be dependent on the charity of Caroline’s family. She has my interests at heart, I know. But her father is not so kind, and I do not think he will desire another mouth to feed.”
I bit my tongue at the mention of Caroline.
“What if there were a marriage?” I asked instead. “What if... Oh, I don’t know. Someone like the Duke of Orley were to propose? You have heard me say that my sister, Iris, is his secretary. And I have never heard—“
“The duke! He is a... The late earl liked him. And I...” she swallowed nervously. “I do not think I could love someone like him.”