Page 47 of Omega's Virtue: Part Two (The Hartwell Sisters Saga 3)

I didn’t remember his sitting for this portrait. I remembered others. Watching the artists had been my introduction to drawing and eventually led to my decision to learn how to paint.

It took some effort, but I managed to free it and lie it on the bed.

“Papa, how I wish you were here. To ask you about Mama and alphas and mating. You told me after my first heat that alphas would be the only ones to help an omega through their heat, which is why we must find a mate. But Polly and I managed with betas or on our own. That isn’t what I want to ask. Did you ever deny Mama? I told my mates I would not sleep with them in the nest. They were angry. Would you have done such a thing? You were so in love. Happy together. But it couldn’t have been that easy.”

I ran a finger along the edge of the canvas where it met the frame.

“Did you know Pax had your portrait? Did you know who he was? That I’d mate a second alpha? One who loves art? The kind of alpha you would have picked for me. You and Mama didn’t think Jack worthy of me. Encouraged me to move on and find another. But all these years later, I am beginning to question… Polly is angry still. My mates, Pax in particular, think Mama oversteps. Even Orley was short with her.”

“Goddess, I wish you could hear me. Go for a walk with me.” My heart swelled at the memories of years of slipping away to wander the city. My Tod shadowing me. Perhaps he would know if I did it today. I’d disappear, only to find Jack a few strides behind me until he caught up and took my hand in his.

A shout from the street drew my attention, and I walked to the open window to see what the matter was. A gentleman driving a smart phaeton with lively horses shouted at a fruit seller who cart had overturned—likely the fault of the gentleman who must be a fool for driving along this rather narrow street in such a vehicle. Still, it was the most exciting thing I’d seen since arriving in London. I lingered at the window, amused by the gathering crowd, all offering their opinions if the snippets of conversation were anything to go by. A smile tugged at my lips as I realised that my plan to slip away and stretch my legs in the park was out of question now. The servants would be watching as I was, and I knew they had their orders. Their new mistress was not to leave the house without either “My lord” or “the Colonel.” Pax’s servants worked with the efficiency of a military outfit.

The odd formality of the house had made my transition somewhat smoother than I could have hoped. Everyone knew their work and did it. The housekeeper was a plain speaking woman with a wicked gleam in her eye when she recounted stories of the master when he’d been a boy. How, with his sisters, he had slid down the bannisters. The severity had come after he’d presented as an alpha. “He was a scamp m’lady and you not minding my saying it, but he is the same as we ever could have expected. He needs somewhat to focus on.”

To counterbalance the order was Meeker who’d introduced himself with a stiff bow and admonishment to a very absent ‘his lordship’ and the Colonel not to let me get away with too much as he was getting too old to chase over the town for me. I learnt from him it was Jack, whom he used to chase and, like a good sheep dog, bring him in from the hills. He informed me he was ill prepared to do the same with an omega he’d heard more than enough about. “Not to mention you shot the Cap’n. Ain’t that a sign of trouble if I don’t know it.”

I’d nearly embarrassed this lecture by laughing. The man seemed to be in earnest and to do anything but show a grave appearance would have, I guessed, offended his dignity.

“Best get on with the day,” I chided myself and mentally prepared myself to leave Jack’s room and learn more about my new home. Turning from the window, my hip knocked a table and jarred the drawer open. I went to close it when something caught my eye.

“I knew he would match my taste,” I smiled and reached inside to pull out the small sandalwood box. A similar one I’d had in my girlhood stuffed all those trinkets one collects as a child with them. But I had lost mine. A pang of something… I lifted the lid, my hands shaking. A quill made from a sea gull’s feather rested on top. I was no expert in birds. I couldn’t tell a gull’s feather on sight. But I could tell one from the memory of picking up this feather on a cold grey walk on the beach. I’d liked how it had sat straight in the sand as if someone had placed it there. Perhaps they had. That quill… I’d made it later with my little penknife by the fire light while the twins had played spillikins on the hearth rug. Goddess, how it had sputtered when I tried to write with it. Splots of black on the page, as if the gull had turned its droppings into ink. Jack, in a rare good mood, had teased me when I’d complained. “It is good luck, Trix. Find something better to vex you.”

I put the quill aside. More treasures from my childhood emerged and with them a flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm me. And with the memories came questions.

How?

Where?

Why?

My whole being strained with the possibilities of how Jack had come to have my treasure box. The only person I could think of was my father. He had been responsible for the household, or perhaps the move south.

I needed to see my mother. Perhaps she remembered something.

“Show her to the study,” I told Meeker, who had been the one to deliver the intelligence that my mother had arrived. “And you shouldn’t be doing the work of a footman or butler.”

“I was given e’spific instructions, Ladyship. An’ none of us like a strange alpha coming here and demanding, mind, to see you. T’others are watching her since I am not good in a fight.”

“Thank you Meeker. I shall inform Lord Paxton you acted against his instruction.” He humphed. “Please, be friends? I’ll be down in a minute.”

“As you say. Though you keep me out of this. I’ll claim from here to the Golden Gates that I knew nothing ‘bout it.”

I turned to the glass, which reflected a face marred by dark circles under my eyes. My hair could be fixed, and I delayed a few more minutes tidying my appearance. Eventually, I felt brave enough to go down.

Mama had filled the small room with enough alpha scent that the back of my throat itched like a cough which refused to go away.

“Beatrice! You… You look unwell. Have they been cruel? I’ll have the marriage dissolved, and you can come home.”

Her joy at seeing me, at supposing I wanted to leave my mates, was like a slap.

“No, Mama. I am very happy.”

“I can see you have not slept. You scent is stressed. Your alphas are not here. What self respecting alpha abandons their mate at every chance they get? Will, I fixed it once before. I can do it again.”

“Fixed what, Mama?” I stared at her. What did she mean? Or rather, what did I not know. “No. First. This.”

I held out the box for her to see, but when she went to take it, I pulled it close where she could not reach.

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