Hathor and the Prince (The Dubells #3) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: The Dubells Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
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“Yet it always works out for her somehow, Mother. She always gets what she wants in the end. Meanwhile, I am told to settle for gentlemen she would never have even considered. I know I am not a famed beauty, as she is, or as beloved by the queen or by you, Father, or even Damon as she is, but at the very least, I should measure in a husband.” I muttered the last part looking down at my canvas. I had drawn my father’s nose too big.

“When you speak like this, Hathor, it hurts my heart deeply, for it is utter lies. You know it. You are a great beauty and very well loved by us all.”

I sighed. “I do know it, Mama. I never said I was not beautiful, nor did I say you all did not love me. I—”

“You merely keep comparing yourself to your sister. And it is unfair to you, her, and the rest of us. She is living her life, and you ought to do the same. That starts by measuring suitors not by Aphrodite’s standards but by yours. The most important thing is that they bring comfort to you.”

“I am trying, but they are all…wrong. Lord Galbert, Lord Morrison, and Mr. Bennett stirred nothing in me.”

“Did you even give them a chance? Love does not happen overnight. Like your art, it comes stroke by stroke and never looks perfect until completed. If you give up each time a mere line is drawn, nothing ever comes of it, my dear.”

I sighed, and my shoulders dropped. “I did not think this would be so hard, Mama. I’ve tried so much, but it has been two years since my debut and yet—”

“One of your greatest strengths is your tenacity, so do not let it falter now. Especially when I have worked so hard planning these festivities.”

The London season was almost over. My mother thought a change of scenery and fewer distractions within the city would tilt the odds in my favor. So she had selectively invited the very best of society to be hosted for a weeklong gathering upon our estate, Belclere Castle. It was rare for us to hold such gatherings, as my father believed London was for entertainment and the castle was for rest. Seldomly was anyone welcome but distant relatives and the royal family, though the latter had not been here since my birth.

Nevertheless, the queen had spoken so highly of her stay here that many often sought an invitation. Consequently, not one person had failed to send word of their attendance. Everyone would be here tomorrow. Then I would have a little more than a week to find my husband and return to London triumphantly to conclude the season at the queen’s yearly finale ball, before traveling contentedly into my future on some other grand estate.

“Yes, Mama, your plans are perfect but obvious, so much so that I fear what shall be said if I do not find anyone still.” Part of me was grateful she put such effort in for me, but another part felt embarrassed that the exertion was needed.

“Fears I also share since you are so reluctant to rid yourself of this pitiful disposition,” Mother said as there was a knock at the door. “Enter.”

Ingrid, my mother’s right hand and head housekeeper—whose dark hair seemed to grow grayer with each passing day—entered. “Your Ladyship, a letter from Lady Verity for Lady Hathor has arrived.”

“Oh, good. Since she and Aphrodite managed to wed in the same year, it may also be an announcement of her pregnancy. Let it rain children from on high.” Just when I thought my mood could not be any more sullen. I sat back down as my mother read over the letter, waiting for my torment and carefully examining her face for any hint of what I should ready myself to hear. Her brown eyes looked over the words slowly, giving away nothing before she handed the letter to me.

“Read it for yourself and see how much others care for you since you so clearly need a reminder,” she replied before leaning in and kissing my head. “I shall go check over the lists for our guests. Join me once you finish.”

I nodded, waiting as she and Ingrid stepped out of the study, leaving me staring down at the letter with a date from eight days ago. Inhaling till my chest puffed and then exhaling slowly, I flipped it open and began to read.

June 16, 1815

Dearest Hathor,

I can only imagine the sulk upon you at receiving this message from me, the greatest of all traitors, as you so often proclaim. I am unsure when you shall forgive me for my treacherous act of falling in love, though I commend you on your unwavering ability to hold a grudge. I also thank you for the lovely painting you created of Theodore and me for his birthday. He and I were so incredibly moved by it that it now hangs above the fireplace in our drawing room at Glassden.



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