Page 40 of Omega's Virtue: Part One (The Hartwell Sisters Saga 2)

Dignity wrapped around her, she gracefully lowered herself into the chair. As I pushed the chair in, I gave into temptation and brushed my fingers over the sliver of exposed skin between her jacket’s collar and hairline.

“Coffee, my dear Miss Hartwell?”

“I am not…” She suppressed the urge to contradict me. “Coffee would be lovely, thank you.”

“What are your plans?” Orley asked. “The grounds are safe, but if you go beyond, take a groom with you.”

“Because I’m an omega?” Beatrice’s eyebrow rose quizzically.

“Unless you would like Lord Paxton or the Colonel to accompany you? Your mother has agreed to survey the farmland to the north. There has been flooding. We’ll be there all day.”

I pressed my lips together. Orley had removed the one obstacle between me and the pursuit of my wary, flighty prey.

“I could look after the ladies.” Stimpson offered.

“We shall be sketching.” Hero smiled at her swain. “I’m sure it will be so boring for any of the gentlemen to join us.”

“Very well said, Hero!” Beatrice grinned.

“Be careful of the heat,” Jack warned before her grin had waned.

I felt her take a breath to snap back.

But Hero jumped into the breach. “We’ll be in the drawing room.”

“Now that everyone knows exactly what we shall be doing and where, perhaps we can get on with our days?” Beatrice aggressively dabbed at her mouth with a linen napkin.

I picked up my cup to sip it, only to spit it out. It was so sweet, sweeter than anything I’d ever tasted in my life. “Did you do this?”

“Serves you right.” She hissed under her breath.

In the afternoon, I tracked Beatrice to the library but the minute I walked in, she stood, and I half expected her to leave.

“My lord.” She made a ridiculous curtsy.

“Dammit, but bow! You ain’t wearing skirts.”

“May I ask why alphas say ain’t when it sounds dreadfully common?”

“And why do omegas always—“

“Wait. Don’t. I promised my sister I would not argue with you under her roof.” She raised a hand. “Tis not your fault that I see you as some boorish brute intent to sniff after my skirts.”

“Does it really put you off? My courtship?”

“Courtship? You sought to buy me. There was no courtship, Lord Paxton. Everything that has passed between us has been the opposite of a courtship. Lawd.”

“Beatrice—“

“You do not have permission to use my given name. Nor shall you ever. I appreciate the compliment to my art. I take that to be honest. Good day, my lord.”

I waited for her to leave.

“That is your cue. Not mine. Leave, please.”

“Beatrice—“

“Not your name to use. Leave.”

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