Page 4 of The Duke’s Rejected Mate

“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.