Chapter 2
Cynthia
The instant I step through the door, a chorus of laughs greets my ears.
Penelope races into the foyer in a most unladylike fashion, followed by Georgiana with her quick but measured steps, and lastly brought up in the rear by Sophia, who remains the perfect picture of decorum.
I’m sure if the dowager duchess were about, she’d chide one but praise the others. As one does in this household.
It makes my heart glad to see the warm, effusive welcome, though, as the triplets, in their own way, show me greetings and affections. Penelope, of course, is most animated as she takes me by the hand and leads me toward the parlor. She fairly bounces in place as we walk, causing my arm to ache.
“It has been forever since we’ve seen you!” she cries out, her eyes shining with an endless well of happiness and mirth.
Sophia, on the other hand, simply hides her grin behind her hand as she lets out a soft chuckle. “Such dramatics, Pen. We saw her over the holidays at the family estate.”
True to nature, the triplet in question turns from me and narrows her eyes at her sister. “Might as well be an eternity. And don’t stand there playing coy. I recall just how pitiful you were, cooped up in the house. Why, the amount of times Cynthia’s name dripped from your lips…”
“You’re suffocating our dear friend,” Georgiana butts in. “I swear the color of her arm has shifted at least twice since you’ve grabbed hold.”
At that, Penelope instantly drops my arm and pats it, making a show of tending to my invisible wounds. “There now, are you satisfied?”
Before any of them can answer, the dowager duchess glides in, all regal and dripping in serenity and beauty. To be like her one day. But then, would I appear as placid as a viscountess? One may never know.
“I thought I heard a commotion in here,” she chuckles as she looks upon her daughters with warm affection before settling her gaze on me. “Ahhhh, Miss Campbell, we are honored by your presence.”
My heart pounds in my chest as she extends her hands to hold mine. We kiss the air by each other’s cheeks before she pulls me in for a hug. For a moment, I stand there, ramrod as her arms come around me in such an intimate, motherly fashion.
In some ways, it hurts far more than when Penelope accosted my arm in a death grip, though the dowager duchess’s grasp is far lighter.
If I close my eyes, I can almost picture her to be my own mother holding me tightly.
Unbidden, tears spring to my eyes as I tighten my grip, drawing her affection into my bosom.
“Why, my dear,” she chuckles, “you act as if you have not shared our company for an eternity.”
“That’s what I said,” Penelope calls out, no doubt casting undignified glances toward Sophia.
When the dowager duchess pulls me back, she studies my face and frowns. “My dear, are you quite well? We can certainly put off dinner until you feel better.”
But then, I suppose I’ll never feel better. I’ll never dance as lightly with my friends as I once did. I’ll never know the innocence, well, what little there is left, of simply being an omega.
More to the point, how can I convey to her that she, in fact, seems far more maternal and affectionate than the woman from whose womb I was ripped? I dare say, if I convey anything of the sort, it will put my family into a poor light. Goodness knows we don’t need that sort of gossip or scandal.
It’s the type that would only affect my parents and not get me out of a marriage I didn’t contrive.
Honestly, it would only make our relationship all the more strained until I meet my husband at the altar.
Who knows, maybe that would, in fact, allow me to go into this union with far more happiness and giddiness in my heart, if only to flee the wrath of my mother.
I give the dowager duchess as bright a smile as I can manage before stepping back. “It’s simply that I’ve missed this family, especially my friends.”
“That’s good,” she chuckles, “because tonight will be a family affair. I do hope it will shore you up.” There’s an odd expression in her eyes, an almost knowing, though I said nothing.
In an instant, it’s gone, replaced by the same soft smile and air of grace that follows her as surely as the scent of warm honey and soft florals. With another nod, she glides out of the room with an effortless gait, leaving me alone with my friends.
“Oh, how has The Season been?” Penelope asks. “Any scandals? Well, besides my brother, that is.”
“What about the plays or operas?” Georgiana asks. “Has the theatre been enjoyable?”
“I long to see what new books you’ve read,” Sophia says, her eyes shining at the prospect of a new tome.
My gaze bounces between the three, taking in all their questions as they fly at me. Truthfully, I am not sure how to answer some of their inquiries. I do not know what they’ve already heard, and I do not wish to spread idle gossip.
Turning to Sophia, I start with the easiest question. “I have not dedicated any time to reading this Season. Mother was most adamant I continue to work on my skills in hopes that I might garner some interest before the end of all the festivities.”
“And have you?” Penelope cuts in, nearly bouncing on her toes. “Or has Charles been occupying your thoughts and time?”
“Has Charles been doing what?” a deep, masculine voice thunders into the room as his shoes clack against the floor with each step.
I can’t help myself. Just the sound alone makes my insides spasm and clench up. My clit pulses in such an evil refrain that I worry I might collapse from it all.
Turning, I curtsy before the man I truly desire, doing my best to keep my gaze trained to the floor. I cannot give away my feelings. Not when his sisters press me so. When he returns with a bow of his own, he bypasses me without a single word or greeting, as if I barely even exist.
Perhaps to him, I truly don’t matter as much as he does to me. Perhaps it’s all about the discipline and not about the pleasure derived after. Or, perhaps it’s even worse, and I’ve concocted a relationship in my mind where one does not truly exist.
Just as I tell myself not to despair, he turns and looks at me, his gaze so hot and intense, I worry it might ignite what few candles remain unlit. But still, he says nothing. He doesn’t go to me.
“What nonsense are you spouting now, little Penelope?”
“Little,” she harrumphs. “I’ll have you know, I am set for the marriage mart next season. We all are. Little indeed.”
Norhaven, in a rare show of humor, places his hand over his heart and stumbles backward. “Say it isn’t so. I fear London is not at all prepared for omegas such as you three.”
“I should hope we do not all get snatched up so quickly,” Sophia murmurs, her gaze taking on a troubled expression. “I would like time to know who I’m about to wed.”
“Of course, you will,” Norhaven booms. “It’s not as if we will throw you to the wolves without even a hint of investigation. I dare say, with Lewis and me at the helm, you need worry more that no one will be good enough and so you will never marry.”
My stomach cramps at his words. Am I not in that same awful scenario? Bound to wed a man I know nothing about? A man I can only hope Father investigated before throwing me to him?
“What sort of man is the Viscount of Henhaven?” I muse out loud, forgetting myself and my surroundings.
The triplets turn to me, gasps heavy on their lips as they sport identical smiles of glee on their faces.
Norhaven, in opposition, merely glowers in what I can only assume is jealousy.
Not that it’s warranted here. It’s not as if the good duke has made any sort of overture to me. There is no understanding between us.
“Why do you ask?” Penelope inquires as she slides closer, all thoughts of her brother seemingly out of her mind. “Has he come calling?”
“I have seen him around,” I hedge, lying through my teeth. “I’ve heard his name mentioned and realize I know nothing of the man.”
“Henhaven,” Norhaven muses aloud. “Henhaven. I can only assume he sits with us in the House of Lords, but I don’t recall that name ever being recognized to speak. Unmemorable. Do you have an interest in him?” he asks, his gaze peering into mine as if he can see into my very soul.
“As I said,” I repeat, doing my best to keep my voice from cracking. “I merely wished to know what sort of man he was. For me not to have even heard of him in passing before now makes me wonder.”
Norhaven waves my words away. “There are far too many Alphas sitting in parliament. It makes sense that you would not know all of them. I would put him out of your thoughts and turn your attentions elsewhere.”
“Yes,” Penelope claps. “You were just about to tell us about the scandals of The Season.”
Norhaven groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Anywhere else but there. Honestly, there must be more to talk about than idle gossip.”
With a mischievous smirk, I tilt my head to the side. “Unseasonable cold weather we’re having.”
Before he can say anything else, the butler strides in. “His Grace the Duke of Whiteport has arrived with his duchess. Dinner is now ready.”
With a curt nod, Norhaven moves out from the room, leaving just the triplets and me.
Penelope links her arm through mine as Georgiana takes the other.
Poor Sophia steps in behind but doesn’t seem hurt by her sisters’ actions.
Her lips curl into a soft smile as we make an odd procession toward the dining room.
As we find our places, I can’t help but notice how they seat me next to Norhaven.
It’s a cruel torture to be so close to him, smelling that intoxicating mix of leather and tobacco.
How I long to nuzzle into him, to breathe him deeply into me.
I feel as if everything would be fine if I could do that.
Under the table, I slide my foot against his, desperately needing that contact. He wrenches it away and turns to glare at me, but underneath is that ghost of a smile he always gets before a punishment. Only, here, in front of his family, he cannot indulge.
I turn my attention back to my food as conversation flies around me. There’s so much love here, so much warmth. It’s a far cry from the near silent dinners I endure at home. Where’s the laughter there? Where’s the conversation?
The very idea of trudging back home eats at me, but I have no choice.
And that’s when it hits me. Fully hits me.
I’ll probably never have this type of interaction again.
Once I marry Henhaven, there will be no need to come here to see my friends.
I’ll be married, alone, and with a man I know nothing about.
Tears burn in my eyes as my vision blurs. Three banns. That’s all I have. Three measly banns.
“Miss Campbell,” Anne, the Duchess of Whiteport, asks. “Are you quite well?”
At that, all eyes, of course, turn to me. “They’re tears of happiness,” I half lie. “All my favorite people under one roof. How I’ve missed this.”
The dowager duchess smiles, her face a warm beacon of love and light. “My sweet girl. We’ve missed this as well. I promise you, the girls have not stopped talking about it all the way from Oxby Manor.”
Lewis Barrington, Duke of Whiteport, tosses his napkin down and gives a false glare. “And here I thought they’d be consumed with meeting the new duchess. Alas, I now see where their hearts truly lie.”
A smattering of laughter ripples over the table. Even Norhaven obliges with a soft chuckle. Though my lips turn up into a small smile, underneath the veneer, my heart cracks, shatters. Will they still be this congenial with me after hearing the banns read from the church tomorrow?
Even now, as foolish as it is, I still wonder if this is some sort of nightmare. Will I soon wake up and find myself in Norhaven’s arms, sated after a long night of punishment and pleasure? Or will I face the cold light of dawn alone, knowing I’ll be bound to another before The Season’s end?