Verity and the Forbidden Suitor (The Dubells #2) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: The Dubells Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
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“Maybe it was a mistake with the apothecary who took the prescription?” the marchioness said gently. “After all, Sir Grisham was knighted due to his proficiency and dedication over the years. I have never called upon him before, but his reputation has not been called into question.”

Once more, Mrs. Loquac leaned in, so Hathor and I leaned in as well.

“Do not take it from me, your ladyship, but I have it on good authority that he hadn’t a sixpence to scratch with after acquiring the title. It is rumored that his prescriptions are no more than a scheme to line his own pockets.” She huffed, taking a rather large gulp of her tea. “They rarely ever work. Lord Fancot claims the man has been treating him to his satisfaction, but his wife complains she has seen no improvement with his so-called tonics.”

My mind went again to the vials within my trunk. Dr. Cunningham had treated our family for several years; Evander trusted him greatly. But for some reason, I was no longer seeing improvements myself. Not a day went by that I did not wake up in a fit of terror. I was fortunate in that the rain had so far shielded my problem from the rest of the house, but it couldn’t rain forever.

“Surely, he could not be cruel-hearted enough to take advantage of the ill,” the marchioness replied.

“Let us hope. But as my mama once told me, there is never a shortage of people looking to take advantage of others.” Mrs. Loquac huffed and took another biscuit into her mouth as she sat back in her chair. “That is why the best doctors are those like Darrington…while his lineage may be questionable, he is clearly not motivated to maintain such a profession for wealth. After all, he is clearly well backed.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My dear,” she spoke to me as though I were a pet cat. “Such an education as his does not come cheap. It is believed that the Marquess of Whitmear has not only provided for his son’s every expense throughout the years but continues to send him a small fortune. What a shame he is illegitimate, for I would have happily offered my daughter, Catherine, but as you know, I am the granddaughter of an earl, and I’m sure the mere thought of it would make Grandpapa spin in his grave.”

“He died before she was even born, and her daughter is a spinster,” Hathor whispered to me, shaking her head. How she managed to remember everyone’s family history was a wonder to me.

“Well, how intriguing. We must make haste, for I am expecting visitors later this evening,” the marchioness calmly spoke as she lifted the book up for one of the young ladies to take from her. “Verity, please stand so they may take your measurements.”

“Yes, Godmother,” I replied, moving where they directed while my mind was a mess of thoughts.

What was I to do now? Keep taking the tonics? Should I have them checked? To do that, I would have to tell the marchioness, but I could not.

Also, who would check them? Dr. Darrington? Surely not.

Though it would provide me a chance to talk to him. But why did I wish to talk to him?

“Verity, Verity?”

“Hm?” I glanced at the women in the room.

“Are you all right, my dear?” the marchioness asked me.

“Yes, of course.” I smiled and put my arms down as they finished.

“You have such a fine shape, neither small nor big. Are we sure you are not a Du Bell? You nearly match Hathor’s measurements,” Mrs. Loquac teased as she looked over her shoulder.

“No, she is very much her mother’s daughter. They have very similar eyes,” the marchioness replied before setting her tea down. “Thank you for coming. The blue and the lavender dresses will work best for her.”

“Mama, what of me?” Hathor gasped.

“You have four dresses, two hats, a pair of silk gloves, and new shoes on order already. Do you wish me to cancel them for you to make new choices?” her mother asked as she rose to walk to the door.

“Never mind, I am quite satisfied,” Hathor said as she moved back to her painting, and I tried not to laugh but failed, causing her to glare at me. “Will you please sit so I can finish my drawing?”

“Of course. May I ask why you need four new dresses?” I asked her.

“Yes. The answer is because I liked them. Now, chin down,” she ordered.

I did as she ordered while Mrs. Loquac, along with her assistants, took their leave. I watched through the window as the driver of her rather beaten cabriolet rushed to bring an umbrella out for her. But what made the scene nonsensical was the way in which her assistants, one on either side of her, hoisted up the bottom of her dress so it would not be stained.



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