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"I don't care, Beta Evans. You were too late."
"But—!"
"You are dismissed."
Gryffyd blustered. "Am I to have no omega—?"
"Not this time," Niall answered, shrugging. "Best of luck in a decade."
I hid my quirked lips behind my hand and studied the other five dragons as Gryffyd Evans was ushered from the room. I was only going to secure the favor of one dragon today, and I needed to consider this lot carefully.
Gideon Millward was a fair dragon, still quite young and without influence, but it might serve me to cultivate a good relationship early. And yet he was now glancing at Francesca Huberts—who was admittedly a very pretty omega, even as fat teardrops rolled out of her glassy green eyes—as if he was wondering whether she were really worth the trouble.
Redmond Palmer was an ass. He was friends with Hugh Gamesby, had traded out his last omega when she offered no issue over a decade—a very ungentlemanly although still technically excusable act—and generally pissed me off every time he sniffed his nose and opened his pompous mouth to speak. Even if I did grant him the right to the Huberts girl, he probably wouldn't shift his opinion of me.
Jeffery Bexam was the fourth son of a fourth son, with barely a cottage to his name and no influence to speak of, but of the lot of them, he seemed the most distraught by Francesca's betrayal. I wasn't sure if that was due to a highly delicate ego or genuine affection.
Tybalt Du
I resisted the urge to groan. I didn't want to be responsible for this decision. One, it was a stupid waste of my time, which I was feeling especially bitter about, considering what the summons had dragged me away from. Two, it didn't sit right with me. Surely the girl had some stronger opinion she was too nervous to voice?
"I would like to speak with Miss Huberts for a moment," I said.
The girl gasped and froze. She was scarcely eighteen years old, and I considered whether we were really putting young omegas into courting at quite the right age. She seemed very young. Mairwen was practically on the shelf by dragon standards, but there was no chance of me mistaking her for anything but a woman. An extremely—and yet also surprisingly—tempting woman.
Mrs. Huberts nudged her daughter forward, and the girl stumbled out of the grasp of the dragons who surrounded her. None of the betas moved."Alone, please."
Mr. Huberts gave his wife a hopeful glance, and I understood the look with a sick twist of my stomach. They were hoping I would take her for myself. As if they hadn't witnessed my choice yesterday. My hands clenched to fists, and Francesca released a small sound of terror, stepping back toward the wall. Jeffery Bexam had the decency to glare at me, but he filed out of the comfortable sitting room with the rest of the gathered dragonkin.
Francesca remained across the room, quivering against a sideboard laden with delicate porcelain trinkets that rattled in sympathy with her terror.
"Sit."
I tried to keep my tone gentle, but Francesca jerked and stumbled toward an armchair as if I'd put the full roar of an alpha's command into the word. Her russet curls bounced as she dropped into the cushions, a wave of cloying omega perfume wafting toward me. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant scent, something like honeysuckle and caramel, and my mouth did water, but it wasn't right, either, too sticky. I resented its presence washing over the lingering taste of Mairwen.
I glanced over my shoulder to Niall and nodded my head toward the door the others had left from. "Keep an eye on them. Keep things civil." He grimaced, but nodded and joined the others, leaving Francesca quaking and crying, teardrops splatting against her hands.
"You don't need to be frightened," I said, my jaw grinding.
"Of course not, Lord Cadogan," she answered with a wobble and a sniff.
"I only asked to speak to you alone so you might feel you could express your preference freely."
I caught the furrow of her brow before her face lifted, eyes wide and baffled. "My preference?"
I stared back at her, and her gaze dropped once more. "Your preference of the gentlemen."
Lace around her collar ruffled as she swallowed. "I will of course prefer whomever you deem best."
"What? No, that's not—Which of the dragons do you choose, Miss Huberts?"
This time, I could've sworn she scowled, but her expression smoothed too quickly. "They are all very fine. Very good gentlemen. I would never presume to know better than you, Alpha."
I opened my mouth to ask about Jeffery Bexam, but then shut it just as quickly. If I so much at hinted a name, she would probably immediately agree. This was beyond biddable and had crossed into the territory of stubbornly submissive. Certainly there were men who might assume any woman was this much of a…blank drawing board for them to sketch out their own desires on. But I'd grown up with Beatrice for a sister and seen my father's heavy hand on women and the way it crumbled the person inside of the body he coveted. I did not want to be another man in a woman's life telling her what she would prefer.
My nose wrinkled, and I backed away from the girl. "Stay here," I muttered to her.
I needed someone with sense. Someone who knew more about this omega and these dragons, had seen more of them, than I had. I hurried to the door, yanking it open and ignoring the many expectant faces until I found Niall.
"Get me Mairwen. Now."