Chapter Text
Prologue: Surrey 1815
It was a cold, crisp January night. Stars twinkled like diamonds in a black, cloudless sky. The grey bones of trees stalked across the pristine snow covered countryside that surrounded Mr. Wrexford's Finishing Academy For Male Omega.
Silver light from a full moon danced off the snow and bathed the area in eerie, dazzling light.
Two teenage boys shared the wooden window seat of their mutual bedroom and stared out of the frost flowered lattice window. The boys were alike in age but different in looks and personality.
Both had yet to celebrate their 15th birthday. Scott McCall was the Omega son of the late Viscount Melville. An aristocratic, classically handsome youth with a flawless, swarthy complexion, black hair and fetching sloe eyes. In comparison Stiles Stilinski was the Omega son of a Suffolk clergyman (well thought of, but of modest means). His hair was nutmeg brown, his complexion pale and creamy, his eyes large, guileless and the colour of fine whisky.
Scott and a reputation for being headstrong, childish, selfish and spoiled. Stiles had a reputation as sensible, mature, amiable and good natured.
The flame gutted in its candlestick and the boys snuggled down into the heavy blanket that shrouded them. It was Scott who first spied the fox tracks crunched into the snow.
"Look there," Stiles eyes followed the direction of Scott's pointing finger, "Mr Todd is about seeking a meal."
Stiles frowned, "Oh dear," he pulled the blanket further around him, "I do hope he has not been in the henhouse. Mrs Miggins will be much aggrieved if there are not enough fresh eggs for breakfast."
Scott nodded once in agreement and studied Stiles a moment as he too pulled at the blanket.
"I sense about you an air of melancholy Stiles which I find quite disturbing. Kindly adjust your mood."
Stiles looked apologetically at his friend.
"Forgive me, I do not mean to distress you, but I have been thinking that come the end of Spring Term our attendance here is at an end. We will be cast upon the sea of life and may never meet again."
"Sadly you are correct," Scott agreed, "but there are times when you talk such utter poppycock." Stiles eyes widened in confusion and Scott slug his arm about his friend's shoulders. "I forbid the vagaries of life to make us lose touch. You will write to me at least once a month and the regular correspondence will keep us abreast of each others lives.
"Of course," Stiles gasped, "and you will reply?"
"Indeed, although I cannot promise to always reply," Scott qualified removing his arm. "Because once I am out in society I will be far too busy with Alpha suitors and making a suitable match. A Duke or Marquis or an Earl at a pinch if they are wealthy, but you must come and visit with mother and I in Berkeley Square."
Stiles gave an embarrassed laugh. "Oh Scott whatever would I do in London?"
"When I am properly settled, you will enjoy my patronage and attend balls and parties, routs , the ballet, concerts, opera and races. Museums and art galleries and all manner of pleasant activities. I will make it my mission to find you a suitable match, an Alpha who elevates your humble position."
With a shake of his head, Stiles replied, "Scott I am afraid you do not realise how much our lives differ beyond these walls. I am the Omega son of a clergyman. My father is highly prized for his work in the parish, bringing the people closer to their maker, visiting the sick, lonely, troubled, needy and poor."
"Yes,"Scott interjected eagerly, "I have heard of the clergy's work among the needy and poor. Are they properly grateful for the soup?"
Stiles blinked, "What soup?"
"The soup your father gives them. I have heard from a reliable source that it is what the clergy do."
Stiles, not wishing to disillusion his friend, gave a tentative nod. Scott issued a satisfied grunt.
"I am sure," Stiles continued, "that the needy and poor are properly grateful for whatever father gives them."
"Quite right too."
"But I cannot help but fear dear friend, that I will be misplaced among the fine, fashionable company you keep. Aristocratic Alpha will not look twice at the Omega son of a clergyman with no wealth, poor prospects and without social connections."
Scott pursed his lips, what his friend said was painfully true, but he was nothing if not determined that Stiles situation would be improved.
"Whilst it is true your provenance is poor and you are not as classically handsome as I, you are attractive and of a pleasant disposition." Scott tilted his head and warmed to his subject."You are educated sufficiently, and have learned all that you need to know at Wrexford's to make you socially acceptable. You walk and sit with grace, make pleasant conversation, know how to host a ball or other event, manage servants and have become proficient in all manner of indoor and outdoor pursuits to entertain yourself, host guests and enchant Alpha. I am sure I can locate a Baron with at least.... Shall we say an income of a thousand pounds a year... eager to claim an Omega out of affection and not care much about their provenance, wealth or social connections."
Stiles eyebrows arched. "I am most grateful for your kind considerations, but confess to being quite content as I am. Father's income is modest but honestly earned. I would not be so well educated and here at Wrexford's learning Omega social graces if it were not for the excellence of my kind benefactress Lady Momford. She was most grateful for my father's kindness upon his Lordship's death. She insisted on paying for my education and instruction in deportment and etiquette. I also hope to earn a living as a private tutor. It is my greatest wish to catch the eye of an Alpha who is a doctor or dashing army Captain."
Scott reared back in horror, "You do talk such nonsense," he chided and took Stiles cold hand between both of his. "My mind is quite made up to it. With my help you will make a good match. Your circumstances will be advanced and your children marry beyond expectation and you will thank me for your good fortune." His face split into wide, somewhat unnerving grin. "It will be splendid, don't you agree?"
Stiles eyed Scott warily and replied after several beats.
"I suppose so...."
Grosvenor Square, London March 1820
Lord Derek Hale, Marquis of Redbridge, looked out of the floor to ceiling window of his study and gazed at the busy London street below. Elegant, fashionable ladies and gentlemen strolled to and fro along the wide, tree-lined pavement. Carriages, coaches, hackney cabs and wagons clattered noisily along the cobbled road and hawkers shouted and sold their wares to the servants employed by wealthy households.
Behind the Marquis, on the other side of the large, oak desk with ornately carved legs, sat his uncle Peter Hale, Earl of Southwark. He crossed his legs at the knee and pushed two fingers between his neck, starched collar and tried to slacken his uncomfortably tight cravat.
He silently regaled his useless valet as a worthless imbecile.
The Earl gave up his task and reached for the crystal glass of Madeira on the desk and took a sip. Talking to his nephew was not the Earl's favourite task. The Marquis was the son of his sister, Lady Talia Hale and powerful Alpha of the Hale pack.
That didn't mean he liked him.
At the window Derek gave an impatient sigh and took a swallow of Port from his crystal glass.
"I wish you'd just spit out whatever you have to say uncle. " He said irritably. "The weather is set fair and I have a mind to take a gallop in Hyde Park."
The Marquis was dressed for riding. Tall, shiny black boots, tight, buckskin fall breeches, a grey moleskin waistcoat, white linen shirt with voluminous sleeves and the obligatory, carefully tied stock.
The Earl scowled at his nephew's broad back. He hated that Derek was able to know what he was doing without turning in his direction. He presumed it was another annoying Alpha ability. He cleared his throat, Derek was not going to like what he had to say. He took another sip of Madeira.
"Uncle..."
"It concerns your marital status..."
The Marquis swung around, "My status?" He asked with an elegantly arched dark eyebrow.
"Your duel with the Duke of Stainbury reached the ears of the pack elders and your mother," the Earl paused for dramatic effect ....... "they are.... concerned."
"Ahh, " the Marquis faced his uncle and opened his arms wide, "as you see you can report that I was victorious, am unscathed and my honour is without blemish. There is no need for concern."
Earl Hale moved restlessly in his seat and brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his pale, fine woollen pantaloons.
"You are without an Omega and your.... Search for a mate leaves you vulnerable to challenge.... I believe Stainbury was the second in six months."
The Marquis dropped his arms, placed his glass on the desk and narrowed his eyes.
"A simple misunderstanding. Honour was satisfied on both sides."
"Indeed, but perception is everything."
"There is a problem?"
The Marquis was an excessively handsome man with dark, slightly Satanic good looks. Collar length, swept back raven hair, expressive masculine brows above mesmerising, pale green eyes, strong masculine features, a sensual if somewhat severe mouth and clean-shaven square jaw, frequently shadowed with stubble. He was tanned, six feet tall with a slender, muscular physique. Wide shoulders and muscled chest tapered down to a flat abdomen, trim waist and powerful thighs.
He also had his considerable wealth, estates, property, pack and title to recommend him.
The Marquis was the prize catch of any season he cared to grace with his presence.
The Earl inhaled deeply, "Alpha duels are such sordid affairs. All that growling, snarling, wrestling, blood, claws and slashing fangs. " He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "An unseemly spectacle and reflects poorly upon the participants and pack."
Derek's lips thinned and jaw tensed.
"You omit that they display courage, strength, determination and ability."
"No-one doubts your courage and ability nephew." Peter commented as the Marquis gracefully lowered himself into a chair behind the desk and steepled his fingers.
"Perhaps my mother would rather I not defend my honour," he said thinly.
"Do not be so dismissive. She would rather your honour be beyond challenge. Your victories do little to still the wagging tongues of society or enhance the status of the pack."
Derek's green eyes slightly stirred to anger, "Pray enlighten me."
"You are gaining a reputation as a Trifler, a Breaker of Hearts, a Destroyer of Young Omega Dreams. “
"A what?” Derek asked, amusement lurking in his tone as his uncle told of the latest gossip concerning him.
“A Destroyer of Young Omega Dreams,” the Earl told him, enunciating slowly and carefully.
“What absolute rot. "What are the dreams that I am accused of destroying? They are dreams of wedding the ‘catch of the season’ purely for the sake of my fortune, holdings, title and pack...” the Marquis replied, "I have been tumbling Omega since I was fourteen..."
The Earl winced.
"Do I offend your delicate sensibilities?" Peter snorted and Derek continued. "The essence is that I have always behaved in an honourable manner.."
"As I said, perception is everything," his uncle smirked. You are thirty six, without an Omega and yet to sire an heir. Your reputation and legacy are not secure. Should you meet with misfortune there is no Hale Alpha to replace you."
"I do not intend to meet with misfortune."
"Your dear father did not expect to burn to death heroically rescuing his horses from a stable fire, but he did.
"Leaving a sixteen year old son to lead the pack," Derek commented somewhat bitterly.
Peter modulated his tone. "The point is, James did not wake up that morning and expect to die. It was sudden and unexpected."
"I sometimes believe father loved his wretched horses more than his family," Derek muttered sadly.
Peter thought the remark somewhat ironic, given the fastidiousness the Marquis displayed when choosing horses in his own stable.
"Accidents happen. If you are lost, the pack is without a Hale bloodline and likely to be taken over by any random Alpha eager to make a name for themselves."
"As you so eloquently express yourself Peter, I am only thirty six, there are many years ahead for me to claim an Omega, marry and sire the requisite heir and spare."
Clearly Derek wasn't listening. "Why not now?"
"Because I don't want to. I have a definite catalogue of stringent requirements and I have yet to find a single, suitable Omega who qualifies. Perhaps you suggest I become a polygamist?"
Peter's patience was stretched thin, "This is a serious situation," he snapped, "it is not as if you are a youth anymore. It was easy to excuse the raucous behaviour of a sixteen year old and attribute it to natural exuberance and over production of testosterone. Bedding stable boys, milk-maids, grooms and servants is one matter and excusable.
But you are a mature Alpha.
And have had ample time and opportunity to select an Omega."
Derek's face hardened and fingers beat out an angry tattoo on the desk as he absorbed his uncle's sudden outburst.
"Trifling with society Omega who have status and connections," Peter continued, "causes problems for the pack, challenges your honour and gives rise to malicious gossip. All avoidable. Think of your legacy."
Derek was not unreasonable and mulled over his uncle's words with a furrowed brow... "A Destroyer of Young Omega Dreams. Is that really what they say?“
"Indeed."
The Marquis's fingers stilled. Peter relaxed sensing his nephew's reluctant acquiescence.
"If I decide to honour the season with my presence and search out a suitable match I will do so without any interference from you or my mother."
"There will be no interference."
"The choice will be mine alone."
"Yours alone. You have my word."
"And if I am unsuccessful," Derek prompted, "that will be the end of the matter."
Peter shrugged, "If no-one meets your requirements, for now, yes."
Derek rubbed his hands. "I will give it serious thought."
It was a chill evening. The fire had been lit in the ornate marble fireplace in the smaller withdrawing room of the Marquis's Grosvenor Square town house. It was an modern, opulent room that reflected the popular, flamboyant style of King George. Elegantly and expensively furnished with intricately carved tables, set with delicate porcelain figurines, vases, plants and the occasional mounted bird. There were Loretta upholstered mahogany chaise lounge in velvet and brocade, matching winged, high back deeply upholstered chairs and an upright pianoforte occupied a spot in front of the large window with long, velvet curtains, awaiting a player.
The papered walls hung with heavily framed landscapes and carefully executed silhouettes in plain, wooden mounts. Brussels weave carpet covered the floor, an exquisite French time piece graced the mantle and above on the wall hung a large, square mirror with gilt surround. The room was illuminated by a candle chandelier.
Two chairs were drawn up to the hearth opposite each other, separated by a table set with a chessboard. The Marquis lounged in his chair and studied his opponent with mild amusement as he contemplated his move.
Issac Lahey, the Duke Of Danby was some twelve years the Marquis' junior, but one of his closest friends. A lanky young man with angelic features and rather untidy, curly, tawny hair. He answered universally to the nick-name Izzy. He possessed the ability to look like a chastised hound when sulking or giving way to an expression of wounded feeling, a feature Derek staunchly defended whenever it was remarked that Lord Danby closely resembled a hound. Nevertheless Derek could not deny the likeness was particularly strong when Izzy was sulking.
"So what is your opinion of my uncle and pack elders proposition?" Derek asked casually.
Izzy answered without raising his head. "Truthfully I see some merit to it." He chewed his thumb and continued to study the chessboard.
The Marquis arched one eyebrow. "How so?"
"It would put an end to the wagging tongues of The Ton and secure your reputation and legacy."
"The gossip is unfounded."
“What actually occurred is beside the point. It’s what people say that matters."
Izzy's slender fingers secured the white knight and he made his move with a flourish, immediately Derek swept the white knight from the board with his black castle. Izzy lifted his head and adopted a wounded expression.
"! Say Hale that's a bit unkind."
Derek swallowed down the urge to laugh. "I have tried to impress on you several times that chess is game of strategy. It is necessary to think not only about your own moves, but any counter-moves your opponent might make."
Izzy snorted and returned to studying the board. "If you ask me you take the game far too seriously."
"I play to win in chess as in life," Derek retorted.... "You sound as if you are on my mother, uncle and pack elders side."
"I am on no-one's side," Izzy answered lifting his head, "but if sides are to be had, you can be assured I will always choose yours."
Derek gave a lazy smile, "Good fellow."
"I don't see why you are so very cynical about the marital condition. Don't you want children?"
"I quite like children." Derek leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "They can be catered for with mothers, nannies, tutors or even boarding schools. I don't want to be shackled to a vapid, clingy Omega who craves constant attention and distraction. Who mirrors my thoughts because they have none of their own, is good for little but organizing and attending balls and spreading the latest gossip. It is my experience that they are flighty creatures and can be deceitful when pursuing what they want."
"You have greater experience than myself," Izzy agreed, " but I think you a harsh judge. I have met several quite charming and engaging Omega."
"And yet you remain unmarried."
"I am more than a decade your junior and have no pack snapping at my heels." Derek pushed back into his seat. "I think you are making it more onerous than it needs to be."
Green eyes regarded Izzy reproachfully. "Explain."
"You are a great prize." Derek snorted. "Why not just choose some attractive Omega and make an end of it? Claim them, marry them and sire a child. You can always pack them off to one of you distant properties. Oh I don't know," he made a casual hand gesture, "like that castle you have in Scotland. I've heard Scotland is very good for raising children. All that wild countryside and bracing weather. You can visit them once or twice a year to acquaint yourself with your children and sire more."
Put by a friend, Derek although of a somewhat intractable nature saw the possibilities in such an arrangement. He would no longer be the subject of gossip and challenges to his good name, he'd be free to do as he pleased (which he did anyway). Free of complaints from his uncle, mother and pack elders, his legacy secure and not greatly inconvenienced by a dependant, clingy, vapid Omega.
"Should I embark on such a quest, where do you suggest I begin...Mrs. Harrington's ball? The debutantes of the season will be there and those from former seasons yet to be claimed."
Izzy regarded his friend warily, "Is your intent serious?"
"It is, I give you my word as a gentleman."
Izzy nodded once. "In that case it would be an excellent place to begin, but heavily chaperoned and attended by most of society." He warned. “Why not start with my cousin Scott? He’s generally acknowledged to be a handsome Omega.”
The Marquis scowled, "Am I aware you have an Omega cousin?"
Izzy rolled his eyes. "I introduced you to him last season at the Foxborough rout. You had a single dance."
"Regretfully, I fail to recollect the occasion. " Derek gave an apologetic shrug. "Was my attention engaged?"
"You were distracted by the Duke Of Stainbury's Omega daughter."
"Ah," Derek's face slid into an enlightened smile, "Beatrice. A female of comely face and figure, with enchanting auburn hair and a pair of fine bre...."
"Derek!" Izzy interjected with alarm. "I believe we are both gentlemen."
The Marquis adopted an innocent, unrepentant expression.
"May a gentleman not discuss a female Omega's finer ....attributes?" Izzy snorted. "Sadly,"Derek continued, "she had little intelligent conversation, no interest in current affairs, was an inveterate gossip and had a piercing laugh."
Izzy responded with a silky arched brow. "That didn't stop Stainbury challenging your interest in her."
"As you pointed out, what actually occurred is beside the point. It is what people say that matters. In the ensuing duel the injuries I inflicted were superficial, healed quickly and without scarring. I met Stainbury just last week at the races and he was quite amiable."
"Honour was satisfied." Izzy remarked. Sliding his bishop over the board. "I am visiting my aunt's house in Berkeley Square tomorrow afternoon. Come with me and I will renew your introduction to Scott."
"A splendid idea," Derek took the white bishop with his black knight, "I believe that's check-mate."