On a few of them, the scrawl is messy, hurried, and with splotches on the paper which look like droplets. None of them make any sense, however. They all start similarly—some varied endearment or greeting to her mother.
This must be from Miss Gillet’s own hand. I bring the papers up to my face, wishing to drink her in, but any scent is quite faded and overshadowed by the ink and parchment. If she did indeed write these, it wasn’t within the last day or so.
Shuffling through the piles, my curiosity piques as I detect a different handwriting altogether. This one is neat and precise, crisp as it flows across the paper. Initially, I think it to be from her hidden lover, but this is most certainly the hand of a woman.
There seem to be only two from this mysterious writer, and based on the dates emblazoned at the top, I put them in order. Perhaps it’s from a friend of hers, someone who can help give me insight into the woman who refused me. However, my heart stops cold as I read the letter.
My Daughter,
By now, you should be settled in at Whitmore Manor. It is my hope you find the fortitude within yourself to do as we’ve planned and entice the duke. Our future rests on your shoulders. What point is it to have daughters if they cannot help provide for their parents in their older ages?
Though you are too young to fully understand the ways of the world, I trust you’ll figure out what needs to be done. As someone partway into their eighteenth year, you’ve seen enough interactions between those in The Ton to know what to do. It is obvious from your lack of being snatched up from the marriage mart that you do not possess what it is an Alpha craves to make you his wife.
It is my hope that you will push past your failings and capture the duke’s heart and make it bend to your wishes. Remember, out of all the available dukes I mentioned, it was Blackport you showed an interest in. Do not make me regret giving in to you and indulging such a choice.
Though others may be far comelier than you, you must help him see past your deficiencies. If you’re unable to, then simply put yourself in a compromising situation. If the duke is an honorable as purported, he will marry you without a second thought.
Once you are settled down with babies of your own, you will understand the need to guide and steer your children in the way which is best for them. If left up to you and your fanciful notions, you would have no doubt found yourself in trouble with that stable boy who mooned over you.
Write back to me with your plan so I may better guide you in your execution. You were called away so suddenly that we were unable to finalize the details. Be sure to burn this letter once you are done reading it.
I know you’re daft about such things and I feel the need to urge you to discretion. Your father and I implore you to make haste. The longer you drag things out, the harder it will be to extricate your feelings. Since this is merely a transaction, you cannot allow your heart to interfere.
Emmeline Gillet.
My jaw drops as I scan the missive again, unsure if I read it correctly. Unfortunately, the words do not change. They’re still damning, showing her guilt in black and cream. Anger and hurt war in my mind as the betrayal sinks deep into my heart.
She meant to trap me. All along, that was her plan. Why then did she refuse me? Were her earlier interactions with me some clumsy way of garnering my attention? None of this makes any sense. In some way, however, there is a small kernel of satisfaction which blooms in my heart as I read the letter once more.
She chose me. Of all the dukes to trap, I was the one she wanted. Part of me feels like that should count for something. Though it does lessen the feeling of betrayal just a touch, all it does is make my thoughts far more confused.
Hoping to put some order to what I’ve read, I pull out the second letter. My vision blurs as the paper trembles in my hands. Based on the date, this was written well before I left to rid my mind and soul of Miss Gillet’s influence.
Unfortunately, it’s hard to ascertain when Miss Gillet received it. All along I was worried she'd try to trap me, and I was right. The first letter is definitive proof she was sent here as a snake in the grass. I cannot fathom the next being any less damning.
My Daughter,
I have written to you numerous times, but still have not heard word back. I assumed you had been successful in trapping the duke, and yet, when no word of your nuptials reached me, I could only assume you chose not to go through with our plan.
Never you mind. If you’re concerned with how strong-willed Blackport is, I have another prospect who will be far more easily influenced by your whiles. In fact, I’m not sure what I was even thinking to begin with by allowing you to set your sights at Blackport instead.
The longer you’ve been away, the more I’ve been able to ponder the intelligence of this plan. I should have known from the onset you couldn’t pull of such a coup. It’s not as if you’ve shown any abilities to follow through while still living under my roof.
As such, I will come collect you in the next month if I’ve not heard back urging me to stay my hand. Though, with such incompetence, I’m of a mind to visit anyway, to make sure you manage to come out of this unscathed so you can set your cap at our newest acquisition.
In truth, the duke of Portswell should have been your aim from the onset. Not only is he worth a bit more than Blackport, but he also seems of an easy-going and gullible nature. I’m sure you’ll succeed with him where you must have failed with Blackport.
Please write back with haste if this is incorrect, and there is indeed to be wedding bells soon. Prayerfully, you’re already with child, so the duke cannot refuse you. As an omega, you have a duty to this family to make an advantageous match.
Remember to use what little whiles you possess. It doesn’t take much. A kiss in the garden with witnesses is all that’s required. Though this is far more important than anything I wish to ever entrust you with, I find I have no choice.
For once, make this family proud.
Emmeline Gillet.
How dare this impudent cow claim Portswell to be gullible? Richer, I’ll grant her, but his gentleness is not something to be taken advantage of. In fact, knowing what I do of him, he’s far more deadly than anyone can ever imagine.
Though I have a penchant for discipline, he has a penchant for pain. I’ve seen the things he’s done to the girls at The Rose and Thorn, and this woman would not have wanted her daughter on the wrong end of his knife. My fingers clench, marring the paper.
With this new information, it’s not hard to guess it’s the reason she refused me. The only reason I can see now for her not accepting my hand and fully trapping me as she planned is to go after one of my dearest friends. The audacity of her actions continues to slam into me, filling my head with all sorts of unholy desires. I wish to make her hurt as I am currently hurting.
Honestly, this righteous anger feels far better than the alternative—that she refused me because she just doesn’t want me. For some reason, I can handle this betrayal far better than her feeling tepid toward me, as opposed to the raging inferno I feel toward her. I want this to be the reason, for it to all make sense, because my heart still doesn’t understand her rejection.
Though, truth be told, none of this is like me. With Delilah, I met her betrayal with a calm indifference. It was as if my heart and brain knew the truth before it was revealed. As much as it cut my pride, it was a relief to let her go.
With Miss Gillet, I thought she was the one for me. She responded to me and to my punishing hand in a way I’ve never seen an omega react before. I suppose what hurts the most is knowing I was willing to give her anything, and she was all too quick to toss it away like rubbish.
That’s why, as much as this scheme seems ridiculous, there’s an air of truthfulness about it. It makes far too much sense to be ignored. If it were just the fact that she came here to trap me, I might have overlooked it. But to be in a plot to bring down one of my friends? That I cannot forgive.
Riffling through the sheets, I look for more letters. I must be a glutton for punishment, since I wish to see all in horrid detail. And yet, I only find the two. Why destroy the others and keep just these?
Unless they were far worse than the ones in my hand. Nothing at all makes sense except I’ve been betrayed. Plain and simple. Though her mother may have orchestrated it, based on these words, Miss Gillet had a hand in it as well.
The fact that she picked me above all others. Should I be flattered? What I am is vengeful. The feelings of wrath flowing through me are dangerous, but nothing seems to lessen the rage making my brain buzz.
“What are you doing in here?”
Before her voice can penetrate my brain, her scent invades my nostrils. Turning, I throw the letters on the bed. Her face pales as she looks between the damning missives and my furious expression.
“What were you thinking?” I snarl, stalking toward her. “Was anything about you real?”
She trembles before me, her eyes filling with tears. She looks so young, so frightened, and that’s when I remember another part of the letter. Eighteen. This little vixen is only eighteen.
“Please- I-”
“Oh no, little governess,” I hiss, backing her up against the wall. “No more lies. How on Earth were you able to trick the butler? Did you use your feminine wiles on him? Are you even as innocent as you claim?”
Her face turns red as she narrows her eyes. This time, her anger swells, nearly matching mine. It takes every ounce of willpower not to pin her to the wall and devour her, showing her who’s really in charge.
“I am as innocent as your sisters. No man has ever touched me. Save you. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s you.”
Her words are like a slap to the face. Though she accuses me correctly, we are not the same. “I never lied to you. From the moment you were employed, every word from your mouth has been an untruth.”
“Not everything,” she wails, glancing about as if someone will help her.
If the servants know what’s good for them, they’ll not intervene. With the door standing prominently open, it’s clear we’re not up to any scandalous actions, and thus, I should be safe from any meddling.
“How old are you?” She bites her lip, refusing to answer, telling me everything I need to know. “Damn it all. I proposed, and you refused. Why in the blazes would you refuse me if you were sent to trap me?”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I want to hear no more of her venom. There’s nothing she can say which can save her from my wrath. I blink down at the slip of a girl, my vision blurring.
No longer is Miss Gillet in front of me. In her place stands Delilah. How could she betray me like this? How could she betray my family like this? And my mother. What will happen when my mother finds out what transpired?
She championed for the girl as if she were her own daughter. This would kill her. I don’t dare tell her about this travesty or it might be the thing that sends her to her grave.
But what else can I do? She must know about the scandal happening under her own roof. Is it possible to just send her away quietly? That would certainly put Portswell in danger. It’s clear he’s in their crosshairs. What on earth can I do?
I no longer wish to marry her, seeing as she’s deceived me at every turn. Sorrow lances through my chest, intermingling with anger burning in the depths of my soul. Tipping my head up, I roar, the harsh, guttural sound rattling everything in the room.
Miss Gillet doubles over, clutching her lower abdomen. The sweet scent of her arousal perfumes the air, nearly driving me feral. She whimpers at my feet, but the pitiful sounds do not sway me. I cannot give in. I cannot lose myself in her.
After a moment or two, she rises to her feet, shaking as she looks down at her dress. I shouldn’t care that arousal dampens her clothes. She is no longer fit for me to attend to. Before I can order her to leave, she dashes away, pushing away from me in her haste.
I follow but stop short of her door frame. No servants mill about, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t been listening in. “Damn it,” I roar again, slamming my hand against the unforgiving wood.
“My son,” my mother calls out, her face ashen as she hobbles over. “Whatever is the matter?”
My heart clenches as I watch her, distressed that my news will cause her harm. Grabbing her by the elbow, I steer us forward, doing my best to lead her to my study. But she stops and wraps her hand around my wrist, keeping me from moving.
“What have you done?”
“What have I done?” I counter, hurt slamming into me. “It’s this charlatan, this harlot. She is the one to blame. Not I.”
“Stop right there,” she cries out, anger making her eyes glint. “You will not speak that way about a lady. I do not care what it is you think she has done, but I do not believe it is as bad as you surmise. I will not believe ill of the girl.”
Sneering, I motion for my mother to go inside the room. “See for yourself. It’s all laid out.”
“I will not. Whatever is in those missives is not for our eyes. But surely you should know it only paints one half of the tales. Are these in her hand?”
Sullen, I cross my arms, irritation at my mother zipping down my spine. “Well, no-”
“Then there is nothing to discuss. She would never harm this family. I’m sure of it.”
“You cannot be serious,” I cry out, my anger tempered only because I do not wish to cause her to become even weaker from my wrath. Taking on a much gentler tone, I pick up the letters and wave them in her face. “The evidence is right here if only you would read it.”
“I choose to believe my heart and my gut. It has not steered me wrong. I implore you, son. Let rationality reign. Do not give in to such base emotions.” Her tone has a hardened edge to it, one I’ve not heard in a long time.
Looking over at her, I note the heightened pink to her cheeks. Why, if I didn’t know any better, she’d look almost healthy, but that’s not possible. I should be grateful to see this as opposed to her normal pallor, but I cannot help but feel even more betrayed that it’s this governess’s actions which draw my mother from her stupor and not anything else.
Exasperated, I sit down on the bed and plop my head in my hands. “There is no other explanation, Mother. She meant to trap me, and I got away unscathed.”
“My son, you are not unscathed.”
Jerking my head up, I glance over at her, apprehension making it hard to breathe. There’s a note of fear shining in her eyes, one I am not expecting to see.
“Mother, what is it?”
“She is in heat.”
“No. That is impossible. The pills-”
“I do not know how, but I know that scent anywhere. Please, despite what you think about her, you must help. You must protect her.”
Another flare of anger threatens to overwhelm me, but I tamp it down for her sake. “And what of my protection? If I do this, if I go to her, it will mean I am indeed trapped.”
“You have feelings for her. I know you do,” she pleads with me, her expression earnest. “Even if they’re smothered with this misplaced animosity you harbor, they’re there.” When her words seem to have no sway, she changes her tactics. “Please, son,” she croaks out. “You must do this for me.”