Aphrodite and the Duke (Aphrodite and the Duke #1) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Aphrodite and the Duke Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
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“Should anyone wonder, let it be known that Devana is my favorite sibling!” spoke Damon at the door. Devana was two years older than Hector and was at Damon’s arm already. “For she seems to be the only one who has noticed I am here.”

“Aphrodite, who is this strange fellow yapping at my door?” my father questioned, his eyes squinted, causing us all to laugh.

“Good afternoon to you, my lord.” Damon sighed heavily as he handed his coat to the butler. “It is only I, Damon Du Bell, Earl of Montagu, your first son and heir.”

Our father glanced down at Hector, who still stood before him as a shield. “Did you know of this?”

Hector laughed and nodded. “Yes, Father.”

“Strange. Very strange,” my father said with humor.

Damon did not say another word to our father, for it would only add to his antics. Instead, he approached our mother, hugging her. When he stepped back, Silva advanced only to curtsy. “Your ladyship.”

“Come now. Such formalities are not needed among family.” Our mother gently placed her hand on Silva’s cheek. “You both are welcome.”

“Yes, yes, everyone is welcome. You are welcome. She is welcome. Now, Mama, my dresses have yet to arrive. What am I to do? Can we not fetch the modiste?” Hathor interrupted.

“Calm yourself. Not only have the dresses arrived, but the modiste will also be coming soon for any last-minute adjustments you or your sister may need for tomorrow.”

“Did I not foretell it?” Damon muttered to Silva.

“Mama, it has been a long journey. I am weary,” I said to her.

“Then you shall retire to your rooms where water shall be fetched for you so you may become unweary before the modiste arrives. Go on.”

I felt the urge to revert to Hathor’s dramatics and protest but marched obediently up the stairs. Knowing the conversation in my absence would most likely be about me…and Evander.

No, I chided myself, I should become accustomed to calling him the duke.

Damon would surely tell them about the brief almost-encounter, and they would take even greater care to not speak his name around me. Entering my rooms, I did what I always did when in privacy: I removed my hat and shoes before throwing myself upon my bed and closing my eyes.

Though I wished I had not, for when I did, I heard his voice. It was merely five words yet they repeated in my mind, unleashing the wisps of feelings I thought sure to have been buried.

Shifting to sit up against the pillows, I opened the book my father had given me, preferring anything else to captivate my thoughts. But the story I turned to seemed as though it were there to mock me; the title of the tale I translated read, “The Golden Bird.”

“I knew it!”

Startled, I closed the book and hugged it to my chest, staring into the brown eyes of my mother.

“Mama!”

“I shall have the book,” she demanded, hand outstretched.

“Mama.” I frowned. “I had read but a sentence.”

“And you shall be free to read more at the end of the season. And even to your heart’s content once married.” She beckoned for the book.

“Was it not you who said wives do not have time to read, for they must tend their household?” I asked, giving her the book.

“So you are able to hear me. Very good. Now listen, for I have much more to say.” She handed the book to the maid who had come with my water.

When did she not have much to say?

“You will marry this season,” she said.

“Mama, I beg you to focus only on Hathor,” I replied.

“Your request is denied,” she stated with no compassion whatsoever. “I will give you two options. Either you shall come to find yourself concerned with a new gentleman, or I shall engage you to Evander.”

My eyes widened. “Mama? That is— he is— I— he does not want me. And I do not want him!” I added the second part quickly so as not to sound so desperate and foolish.

She sat on the bed beside me, her face close to mine. “You must tell me the truth. For if you wish I will move heaven and earth to see it done. He is a widower. Are you sure you no longer wish to wed him?”

I knew for certain that I did not wish to wed a man who did not wish to wed me. And Evander—the duke did not wish to wed me as he had clearly shown all the world.

“I am no longer so naïve as to want such things. Truly. I do not want him.”

Her gaze was unnerving.

“Very well.” She rose from her place. “Then we will see you married to the very best of the ton.”

“Mama, must it be him or anyone—”

“It must!” She huffed. “If you are no longer so naïve, you should also recognize that your position impacts the rest of your sisters. There is already talk, and do you know what the talk is of? They say the ladies of Du Bell are blessed with beauty but cursed in love, for no one wants them. Should you not marry this season, it shall be harder for Hathor.”



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