Page 30 of Cruel Alpha: Season Two

“Yes, pensive. At the start of the evening, he was charming and polite as usual, but after you took leave, there simply was no joy left in him,” Tabitha explains, and I try to imagine it—the sour look on his face when he couldn’t strongarm me into returning, couldn’t force me to pretend I’m onboard with this arrangement.

“As planned, he made his selections from Ms. Dawson’s girls, then he retreated to his seat at the head of the table. His guards kept a pretty tight circle around him, blocking guests from approaching him for conversation.”

“And he just sat there like that for the rest of the evening?”

Guinevere nods, answering my question. “Yes, the entire evening. He didn’t dance or eventalkto anyone after you were gone.”

There’s no doubt the media has had a field day with this one, speculating what transpired between Cas and I while we were both absent from the ball. Only for him to return pouting and sitting in isolation.

But it serves him right.

Whatever is being said about us, whatever bad press our behavior has garnered, I hope he’s the laughingstock of all New Eden this morning. I hope they’re all wondering how an alpha who can’t keep peace in his ownhouseholdcan possibly keep peace among the clan.

“So?”

When I arch a brow at Tabitha, she seems confused by what I’m asking.

“So?” she says back.

“I believe she’d like to know who the alpha selected,” Guinivere clarifies. “Is that right?”

I nod, trying to ignore how my stomach twists and turns. No, I don’twantto know, but… Ineedto.

Guinivere clears her throat, and she’s terrible at hiding her feelings. She doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but the spotlight is certainly being shined on her.

“Well, I’m sure the alpha deliberated for several hours the night before, selecting the women he felt would best suit not onlyhimbut the role they’ll play within High Chamber affairs. And?—”

“Oh, just getonwith it,” Tabitha gripes, rolling her eyes at Guinivere’s lengthy presentation.

“Fine,” Guinivere says, straightening her posture. “The women officially endowed with the title Consort Elect are Clementine Darby, Arabella Westchester, and… Wilhemena Emory.”

Hearing that last name, I sit up, propping myself on both elbows. “What… the actual…”

“Ladies?”

The sound of Ms. Radcliffe’s stern voice has all three of our gazes shifting toward the doorway where she stands. Tabitha and Guinivere are on their feet the next second, offering Ms. Radcliffe a quick curtsey as they exit the room. Now, it’s just the two of us, and I don’t like that dutiful look on her face. It gives me the feeling she’s about to ruin what little chance I had at squeezing even an ounce of goodness out of this day.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am,” she says, bowing her head slightly with the words. “I trust that you slept well?”

Actually, I tossed and turned until sunrise, but I smile and choose not to answer.

“There are a few items on this week’s agenda to discuss. Would you prefer that I come back later, once you’ve had a chance to prepare for the day?”

She looks me over, the disheveled state of my hair, my wrinkled nightgown.

“No, now is fine. I’m alert.”

“Very well then,” she says with a nod. “Now that things are progressing right along, I was just thinking that this seems an appropriate time to begin filling your social calendar. But, as luck would have it, before I could even think of a starting point, you received an invitation.”

“An invitation?”

She nods again. “Yes. To meet with the Laurel Guild.”

There’s a gleam of excitement in her eyes. It’s the same look of pure joy Aunt Geneva would’ve had if it’d beenherdelivering this news. The Laural Guild is known throughout all of New Eden, but their circle is small and tight. One does not simply push or buy their way into being a member, you must be selected. And only rich women of noble breeding are even considered.

My head falls back to the pillow, and my gaze is fixed on the ceiling. “Pass.”

Lady Radcliffe stammers a bit. “I’m—I’m sorry. Did you just saypass?”

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