Omega’s Gambit by Flora Quincy
Viola
“You must see… Here. Here,”I stabbed at the sheet in front of the duke. I’d been good enough to bring a draft of my book for him to review. But all he wanted to do was discuss the winter lambing, even though there had been no news since we’d concluded the business last week. I suspected he was doing it on purpose. Could alphas be more insufferable? “See. Omegas do not lack the qualities of any dynamic. They merely are slaves to their nature, as alphas are. Their bodies smaller, to be sure, but their minds as great.”
“As great?” he blinked lazily. I gritted my teeth. At times I wondered if he deliberately provoked me or if he was stupid. The latter, of course, was ridiculous. His mind was agile and exciting. In the past fortnight, I’d engaged in more debate about topics that mattered than the past six months combined. The duke excited me beyond his natural, physical allure. I flushed. At times I marvelled he could not scent the faint trickles of arousal I’d come to expect when I was in his company.
“As great,” I emphasised. “Why, my sisters are better versed in—“
“Latin, Greek, and practically every philosopher known to mankind. Better than half the alphas who sit in parliament?” he offered.
“I do not deny it,” I said stiffly. Oh, it made me cross when he threw my own words in my face. His ability to recall, near word perfect, every conversation we’d ever had was wasted on him.
“Don’t resent me because of my superior memory, you brat. Don’t look surprised that I can read your thoughts. You complain about it enough. Claws in, Hartwell,” he smirked. His crooked nose should have made him ugly, but when he was in this teasing mood, the great Duke of Orley was almost boyish in his handsomeness. I wanted to keep him in a mood where the difference in our ranks melted away and he opened up to me. I flushed as an unreasonable thrill coursed through me. They came on whenever he addressed me as he might address any other alpha. Hartwell. An equal of sorts. I preened before realising his smirk had grown while he’d been observing me. I pressed my lips together… Provoking alpha!
“My upbringing is such that I shall ignore you insult. May I recite what my sister Viola said this morning? Over breakfast,” I felt the need to add.
“You’ll bother me until you do. Stand in front of me,” he waved. I could see his thoughts as clear as day. “Stand there—“
“Like a schoolgirl?” I asked, hurt that he could make me feel so small with a simple command.
“No, wild one. Like a member of Parliament,” he beckoned me forward. “Do you think your abilities that of a mere child? Do you believe I think so little of you? You are more like to lead our country than wear leading strings. Which is it to be? Schoolgirl or Prime Minister?”
It would be role play either way. A taboo I never thought to consider, yet his offer had my heart rushing with desire.—Not a carnal desire, I blushed at the thought. No, this was the aspiration to step outside my dynamic. This alpha was, unknowingly, giving me a chance to make-believe.
We grinned at each other.
“Then take your place, Prime Minister Hartwell.”
I moved in front of him. Closed my eyes, calmed my pounding heart as I conjured the—I drew a blank.
“I do not know what it looks like,” I admitted. I peeked at him through my lashes. There was no derision. Just a soft smile of understanding. How could he understand? No doubt he had been to a million places I as Viola would never step foot.
“The stage is less important than the words,” he told me. “Speak, Hartwell.”
My throat felt dry as if I had swallowed sawdust. Our eyes met. And it came upon me that this was the stage that mattered. He was the alpha I must convince. How could I forget? It was the votes he controlled, rather than his admiration, that I needed to win.
I could. I would.
“Viola spoke thusly over well-buttered toast and tea,” I paused that he might appreciate the ridiculousness of the picture I painted. “Omegas, said she, are the rarest dynamic, and like precious stones, are hoarded and jealously guarded. But in shutting the omega away, the beauty, the brilliance withers as a jewel left in a box grows dull. To truly be appreciated, a jewel must be worn in the sunlight. Allowed to dazzle all and demonstrate to all its value. So spoke Viola Hartwell, omega”
“A shallow comparison,” he remarked.
“It is not,” I snapped. I’d been struck enough by my own words to rush away and write the sentiment down and refine it, commit it to memory. “What Viola says is true! Or are you too proud—“
“The sentiment, I admit, is compelling. Very compelling. But not all value a jewel, no matter its brilliance. Others will covet it once seen and then shut it up.”
“You reject—“
“I did not say that. More—your sister must think of a better comparison… Come. You try to find one.”
“You insult Viola,” I growled. He insulted me. By Our Goddess, this alpha would have me losing my temper, and then I’d be in a fix. For all our comfortable discourse over the last weeks, he would not accept me for who I was. That I was Viola, an omega and aspiring rabble-rouser.
“Think of a better,” he urged. “Tis’ of no import who finds the better comparison. Get the damn thing right and worry less about who came up with the words.”
“Sharp steel,” my eyes glinted. “An omega and a sword are the same. I think of my sister and I think of good steel. The point driving home, sharp enough to kill. If you do not use it? If you keep it in a scabbard the steel will dull. It must be sharpened like wits. An omega is only good if she is matched with an alpha whose skill is good enough to wield her.”
“Good enough. Omegas are the blade rather than a sheath for an alpha to put his sword in,” He cleared his throat. Then I realised the sexual nature of his comment… A man might sheath his cock in an omega’s slick hole—my cheeks flared hot at the thought of his knot and how it might feel, how it might stretch me. The duke was a virile, attractive man and alpha. I was a woman and omega, young and inexperienced. My cravat felt tight, and I tugged at the collar.
“I did not mean—” I bit my lip, unable to put my thoughts into words without embarrassing both of us.
“That is more than enough of sheaths and swords, I think,” he smirked.
“Have you given thought to my proposal?” I asked. “If I can’t convince you to support the bill with my words… Perhaps I should with my actions. A quid pro quo? The countess—”
“Enough! Get back to the work I pay you for.”
* * *
I was quiet the next day, unable to look Syon in the eye, afraid that he would see my inner turmoil. Did I want to press him on the bill? Bring up the trade I was willing to make? I’d stayed up the whole night thinking on it. One person for many? Could I do it? But he had his own concerns and barely spared me a look until I stood to leave.
“Don’t come tomorrow. You look tired,” he didn’t look up from the letter he was writing.
I swallowed, unsure what to do with his kindness. He was kind. He was good. What secretary received the same courtesies I had come to expect as my due? If he treated his duchess half so well as he treated me, a mere secretary, then I should be doing everything I could to marry him to the countess. If I got in the way of a marriage that could prove happy even as it saved the countess from penury, then I should be putting all my energy into achieving that outcome.
“You are too good to me. I will be here,” I frowned at my shoes, confused by the emotions I had no name for.
“Hartwell, if I tell you to stay away tomorrow, you will follow my command. I go to Newmarket. Take the time off to buy some new neck clothes. You mangle them beyond recognition.”
“Why? It is not the time of year,” my head shot up in confusion. The first races were months away. I reached for my cravat. Even without seeing it, I knew it would make Timms, His Grace’s valet, turn green with nausea. “And I don’t mangle them.”
“Do my movements concern you?” he chuckled. “More to the point, does Newmarket vanish simply because the races aren’t taking place?”
“No, sir.”
“What? Hanging your head like an unrevealed schoolgirl? Something is causing you to act out of sorts. Tell me.”
I gave into that firm tone. Perhaps not so much because he was exerting an alpha’s will on me, but because I wanted to unburden myself. The story of my emergence into society and interacting with other alphas, omegas even, came pouring forth, coming to an abrupt halt with the admission that “The more I see of the world, the more I recognise my idealism, my own—“
“And what is so wrong with that, pup?”
“How old are you?” I glared at him.
“I will be nine and twenty this year. Not so old.”
“Yet you have been to university, have been on the grand tour, have spoken in the House of Lords. In short, you have lived. You must think me wholly incapable and yet you are kind to me. To hear Viola’s ideas...”
There was a pause. It could have lasted a moment or an hour, I would not know, for our eyes held so steady, even while my heart galloped within my breast. It had been a few short weeks in his company, yet I felt at once comfortable and at sea with him—very well, I was not sure what it literally meant to be at sea but the expression was known to me enough that I felt confident using it to describe my feelings at this time.
“Is’t so strange? Perhaps I wished someone had been a friend to me at your age?” he asked.
I felt my cheeks flush. Had he called us friends? When there existed such a gulf in our situations, our stations, our dynamics. Everything separated us. There he sat. All languid grace as he lounged in his chair confident that there was none to challenge him. He could not be more correct. Yet he called us friends. A title I suspected was more precious than any other in his lexicon.
“It is late… I should go,” I mumbled, knowing if I gave voice to my feelings, I’d break this serenity. When he didn’t speak I realised how badly I had wanted him to ask me to stay. To have dinner with him. To not leave him in this grand and silent house.
“Come out with me tonight. I feel you need a night away from...” He waved a hand. As if it were quite common for a duke to take some young alpha—his secretary, no less!—with him to some exclusive club. “I think you do not play. That is not good for a young alpha, especially one who so demonstrably lacks any Town bronze. They call me the Parson for not indulging in pleasures of the flesh, but no one is the worse for learning whether you desire to partake or abstain.”
“I—“ I choked. The thought of going to another alpha only establishment had me nervous. “I mean, I am expected at home this evening.”
“You are always expected this evening. Tonight you will do as I say.”
I growled in annoyance. “You have no say over my free—“
“You are my secretary and reflect on me. If I choose to introduce you to a club, you bow and offer your humble thanks. Your protestations that you are not worthy of such regard...” he grinned. That smile was more lethal than his bark. If he had forced his alpha will, exerted the dominance we both knew he had, I would have caved. I would have had to submit. But that teasing twist of his lips commanded me just as well if not better.
“I will not rise to that bait. I will go with you,” I snapped. But inside, my heart was singing. I hated myself for cherishing my time with him.
* * *
He chose to take me to a gaming hell, full of all the young bucks and corinthians and betas with deep pockets. The house itself was a discreet building, but there was no doubt of what this place was once we climbed the shallow steps. A large, pugnacious alpha stood at the door, and the duke greeted him with a familiarity I’d not expected. When I asked, he pointed to his nose and said with some amusement, “That fellow ensured no lover would enjoy looking at me.”
I wanted to protest, for he was distractingly attractive to me, which made me nervous with each passing day. It was only the great amount of work that he insisted I do which kept my stolen glances to the bare minimum.
Almost the second we stepped into the brightly lit room on the first floor, the duke and I were separated. Some unknown alpha led him off, while I floundered in a haze of strange alpha pheromones. As quickly as we were separated, I made up my mind to find him and not leave his side unless he explicitly ordered me away. My decision made, I threaded my way through the alphas until I spied him across a table where dice was the game. Near enough to call out to, I relaxed. My friend.
Yet, as I was about to draw closer, a beta woman dressed in a scandalously low cut gown pressed up against the duke’s arm and trailed her fingers along his back in a well-practised gesture. The feeling in my stomach was not pleasant. Something warred within me, and I unable to determine why I wished I was the one caressing or being caressed. I kept my face still as I watched her attempted seduction. And in that deep meditative space, I missed my name being called.
“Hartwell!” The bark broke through my tangled thoughts.
“Viscountess Gale,” I bowed. Relief unlike I’d ever known flooded my senses at the sight of a familiar face. “Apologies.”
“You seemed lost in thought. What might it be?”
“Do you think that the women and men here practice their seduction in front of a mirror? It seems like their actions are more for those watching than the subject of their... Shall we say caresses?” I spoke carelessly. My words purposefully crude, though I wished them back as soon as I had spoken them. What omega would speak so forthrightly? Even my sisters, who were wild and had kept themselves free of the weight of an alpha—literally, I smirked—would not speak like this.
“Both, young alpha,” came a tinkling laugh. A beta wearing an even more provocatively, her breasts winning the battle with her gown. slipped her arm through mine. “Sarah is my name. What is your pleasure? To watch or to participate?”
“Both,” I said, without any of the natural embarrassment an innocent such as I ought to feel. “I watch these alphas make fools of themselves and learn that I do not wish to be thought a fool.”
“Away with you, pretty thing,” the viscountess shooed. “I wish to talk to this firecracker, not watch her flirt.”
“You know where to find me,” she smiled coyly.
“In my dreams?” I parried. Her green eyes widened, pupils dilated. My own heartbeat harder with my breast, and my nipples tingled with something like desire. She leant close and kissed my mouth. It was soft, warm, and oh so sweet when she slipped her tongue between my lips. For a hundred heartbeats we kissed, slow and teasing, until she left me panting while she ran her lips along my jaw to my ear. Her tongue tracing the sensitive shell until she could take my earlobe between her teeth and bite. I hissed softly. We'd not touched except to kiss. I'd not felt the heat of her body pressed against mine, but my every nerve was on fire. She’d stolen my first kiss—my second, third, and tenth—, and I would gladly repeat the experience if given the chance. She might rob me of a thousand kisses and more, til, as the poet said, no one would be aware of how many kisses there had been, and I would consider myself richer for the experience.
“Your dreams, your bed, wherever, however you want me,” she whispered. “And should you need an escape, I’m a friend to Hippolyta. Our Queen of the High Toby.”
She backed away from me, her little white teeth pressing into her plump bottom lip, before spinning around and snaking her way through the crowd.
“My goodness. Sarah seems enamoured,” an alpha standing next to the viscountess chuckled. A quick glance was enough to tell me he was her son. They shared the same high cheekbones and heavyset eyes. I took him to be in his thirties, not an old man to be sure, but older than the duke who was still focused on his conversation with some alphas I had not been introduced to. The beta still hung on my duke’s arm. I smiled. He did not seem interested in her flashy beauty.
“I fear I am just her mark for the night,” I inclined my head.
“To be the mark of a pretty woman is not such a bad thing,” his mother smiled. I could see her assessing me. “I wonder, when will we see your sister presented? Is she to stay locked up until her debut?”
“What is she like?” the viscountess’ son asked.
I growled low, furious at how… Casually they gossiped about me, about any omega.
“Easy, Fredrick. Hartwell does not like her sisters discussed in public.”
I swallowed down the burning desire to tell her that she had brought them into our discussion. I looked up the moment I had myself under control, and my eyes caught the duke’s. He gave the smallest of nods, an acknowledgement that I had kept my temper. My body slowly began to unwind as I realised I didn’t need to jump to my sisters’ defence. That I could allow them, myself even, to... To what? Be ourselves? Independent of these alphas who wished to admire us, like the jewels I’d spoken to him of earlier. They did not appreciate that the metaphor had changed. We omegas were now steel sharp enough to make them think twice of meddling in our lives. Dammit, he was right about the metaphor—though I’d never tell him.
“Viola goes out with my aunt,” I said evenly. “I believe she goes to small, private parties.”
“So she meets no alphas,” acknowledged the handsome alpha. “You must call me Fredrick. I think we should be friends. Perhaps through your friendship, I will have the good fortune to meet the fair Viola Hartwell, of whom the world has not seen but of whom much is heard.”
His smile was for his mother and not me. I ground my teeth together. It was not hard to see the game they wanted to play. Viola was the scandal-free omega sister. I was the Hartwell sister who was valuable to the alphas. The one whose political pedigree... I frowned at the realisation. There was political power in marrying Viola—Hippolyta had told me as much. The purity of my father’s politics, the increasing need for a leader for the opposition—fresh blood in the party is what my uncle had said the other night. I was the fresh blood. Not as Iris the alpha, but as Viola, the omega who would give her mate children and secure a political legacy, a dynasty. I looked for the duke, suddenly missing his reassuring presence. Around him, I could relax and be myself, rather than constantly worrying someone might guess I was an omega or listen as alphas bought and sold omegas as easily as they laid bets against the bank. Within his sphere, under his watchful gaze, no harm could come to me. To put it plainly, unknowingly, he had stepped into the role of my alpha guardian. The realisation did not alarm me as it should, but his care was too natural so I did not question it.
The duke did not let us stay much longer after my conversations with the Gales, but grabbed my arm and drew me away. He released me only to struggle into my greatcoat as if I were a child.
“I do not like it,” he hissed as we left the disreputable establishment. His hand pressing against my back as he steered us away.
“What don’t you like?” I asked. He’d seemed happy enough earlier.
“Gale and her son. Using you to get to Viola. Apologies. To Miss Hartwell. To use her as a pawn in their political ambitions. They might run with your uncle’s political pack, but because it suits their ambition. Do you truly think Gale wishes to die a viscountess? She looks up. Your sister is merely a pawn in her game.”
He echoed my own thoughts, but I’d hoped he would have a different interpretation of the conversation. He’d set me right before, if only he could do it now.
“Surely the daughter of a more powerful alpha…”
“A pretty wife with a pedigree and connections such as your sister possesses? And your mother getting a title for her diplomatic work in France? Both are as valuable as a fortune, which the Gales do not lack.”
“I won’t let them,” I assured him. “I doubt any of my sisters would allow themselves to be used like that.”
“Fool, you don’t understand,” he growled and swung me towards him. It was late and cold, yet I didn’t feel the chill because his heat warmed me better than any furs could. He thrust his face into mine. “You need an alpha to protect you. Do you understand my meaning? Viola... Viola is going to be bargained away by your uncle for political gain. With your mother out of the country, there is no one to protect her. If she doesn’t accept their suit, they can as easily compromise her.”
I scoffed. “Even if my uncle wanted to, Mama would not let him. Your Grace, trust me when I say that my uncle loves Viola, my sisters as if they were his own. But Mama and my uncle Florey are not on good terms. She’d block—”
“Oh, your manners are too nice to see what others would do with Viola.” He snapped. My heart however hovered in a state of pleasurable shock that he said Viola so naturally. I could almost imagine he spoke to me, knowing all and accepting me as I was. “Be sure that Gale and her son believe that Viola will set them above others in the hunt for leadership of the opposition. I’ve no doubt they hope to marry and mate her by the end of the season, especially with your pet project going to a vote in a few months time.”
“Your Grace!” I gasped. “You think… Viola? I doubt she has that much value before her debut… Though I do see the argument… I just don’t believe that one omega could be such a powerful piece on the board.”
“You speak of a chess game? A fair comparison. She’ll be their gambit so that Gale can take the part of the queen. Now answer me. Does Viola look like you?”
“Yes,” I did not know where he was going with this.
“So she is beautiful. Don’t blush, Hartwell. You know you’re beautiful. Sarah was rubbing against you like a cat in heat. Don’t think that kiss you shared did not go unnoticed. If you were an omega… Never mind that. Should Viola have a fraction of your attractions, alphas will… Why are you looking at me like that?”
Had I been looking at him? I had been trying to look anywhere but at him… The duke had called me beautiful! No alpha had ever done that before.
“Was I looking at you?” I managed to ask when he continued to stare at me.
“Yes. The same look you had after Sarah stuck her tongue down your throat. Can’t believe you kissed her like that. You looked…” he cleared his throat. “Remember I don’t want to see you tomorrow.”
Without any warning he turned down the next street, leaving me to watch his retreating back. He’d provided food for thought. Would alphas move so quickly? Forego the Marriage Mart in favour of deals behind the scenes? Compromise me, negating my mother’s influence.
My fingers brushed my lips, which still tingled with the memory of Sarah’s kiss. What would the duke’s kiss do to me? Would I be as lost? As… No. Dangerous enough I even considered it.