The next morning, Lambert is reading a book in the drawing room when there's a knock at the door. He turns to see his father standing in the doorway.
"Lambert, go get dressed and head to the morning room. It appears you have a caller."
He has a what now?
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The last time Lambert had a gentleman caller was during his very first season. That was back before he gained his reputation for venom and disinterest, and despite his best efforts to ward off any ambitious alphas he should meet at social gatherings, his substantial dowry and father's title proved too tempting for some to ignore. If any of these so-called gentlemen did happen to grace him with a morning visit, Lambert made damn sure that they wouldn't be coming around a second time. This, of course, displeased his father to no end, but like it or not they had their deal and that meant Lambert had no obligation to entertain these men past a single dance.
He had thought that the message was clear enough to never have to deal with this nonsense again, but apparently there was still one alpha that was determined to pursue him. And Lambert has a sneaking suspicion he knows exactly who that is.
It's confirmed to be correct the moment he steps into the morning room to find Lord Aiden Blackmore waiting for him.
"You," Lambert says, accusation lacing his voice.
The alpha just offers him a pleasant smile in response. "Me," he says simply, bowing his head towards Lambert. "Good morning, Mr. Rochefort."
"Lord Blackmore. Come to subject me to your presence once again?"
"Actually, I was hoping we might share a cup of tea."
"Ugh, fine. But only because the rules of hosting dictate that I indulge you."
Amusement dances in Aiden's green eyes as he steps closer. "Do the rules of hosting dictate that you also be nice to me?"
"There isn't a set of rules in the world that can make me do that," Lambert grumbles, under his breath.
"Excellent. I would hate to have come so far only to be disappointed."
Across the room, he hears Jaskier choke on a laugh and he shoots a quick glare in the other omega's direction. Suddenly, his brother-in-law is extremely interested in his needlepoint.
Gods' damn it, Jaskier. Lambert knew that asking him to chaperone would involve this shit. Then again, at least there's less teasing than if it were one of his brothers. Or Vesemir. Fuck that.
He orders the house staff to bring up some tea and cakes and not five minutes later he's glancing at his reflection in his teacup as he avoids making eye contact with Aiden Blackmore's stupid handsome face. Neither of them have yet to say anything, and Lambert is beginning to wonder if Lord Blackmore seeks to torture him using sheer awkwardness alone.
When they met the previous night, Lambert hadn't been able to scent the other man amongst the overwhelming atmosphere of the ballroom. Now that they're alone however, he can catch the faintest hint of the alpha's scent wafting over from across the table. Cloves and Lavender-- a rather calming scent for an alpha. Usually they have some heavier musk so strong it overpowers Lambert's breath, coats the roof of his mouth and his tongue. But Lord Blackmore's scent is actually quite pleasing, and for some reason seems to make the uneasy pit in Lambert's stomach dance with butterfly wings.
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The Perils of Love and Courtship
FanfictionLambert has never wanted an alpha, in fact, he would sooner call marriage a prison for omegas rather than some wondrous thing they all make it out to be. With a reputation for being uncivilized and downright venomous, he's made his way through three...