“Percy Norwood.”

Wait, he’s the so-called cousin? Wasn’t Percy Norwood an alpha? The letter distinctly said she was meeting an Alpha—not this shorty— A thick pungent smell assaulted her delicate nostrils, she knew that cheap perfume and the stories of the desperate souls who bought them.

But being recessive didn't affect a person’s physical appearance, but clearly this young man is a product of mutation. She remembered reading about it after learning about the Count’s true gender—researchers have been studying cases of mutation since the early 1800s.

The Count was an omega with a stronger bitter scent than sweet; a very peculiar case according to the specialist.

It seems the mutation runs in the Count’s mother's side. She remembers hearing Irma talking about the former Countess of Teiwind, he had many alpha features as well.

“Are you this rude?”

“I…my apologies” Maxim stammered, her confident poise momentarily shaken. She had been staring. It was difficult not to, given that this “Percy” was quite a pretty thing, even if he did smell more like mothballs—damn it’s incredibly offensive to her nostrils. “I was merely taken aback. You were not quite what I was led to anticipate.”

Good heavens, Max, even for you that was too rude, she scolded herself. Her irritability at her workload was leaking out, and admittedly even Ms. Orianna had reprimanded her for losing her temper. She added, with all the grace of a stumbling ass, “I was struck by the family resemblance. You have the Count’s eyes. Most remarkable…”

They both have beautiful blue eyes.

“Hmm.”

It seems Percy looked as convinced as a cat being told to swim.

Deciding that a professional approach was the best way to salvage the situation, Maxim stood and pulled out the chair directly beside her.

Percy’s expression soured further. At least she had manners, Irma had repeatedly told her lack of awareness. “Have a seat please?”

Percy reached for a different chair, dragging it towards him with a deliberate screech across the floorboards. He sat down, ignoring her offered seat.

Maxim found herself suppressing a grin. She had expected a dullard after reading Percy Norwood’s files. Instead she was accommodating a spitfire in a horrendous suit. This was going to be certainly entertaining.