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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“What is the matter?”

“Nothing.” Her voice now low and gentle, her hands drifting back down to her sides. “What of you? I am very interested in…”

“In what?”

“In anything you have to say.” Again, her voice was sickly sweet, unlike herself. “I’ve been rambling, it’s unladylike.”

“Yes, you were rambling, but I enjoy it. It is oddly soothing.” And amusing; her whole spirit seemed to shine in her liveliness.

“That is the first time I’ve ever heard that,” she replied, and then stopped, noticing the eyes on us as we lingered by the lakeside. “I think we should part here. Any more time together and—”

“They would usher us into a chapel to be wed. I understand. Good day to you, Hathor.”

“And you, Wilhelm. Thank you for rowing,” she said, before walking off on her own. I stood there, watching her figure retreat from me.

“I have done quite well in matching you both, have I not?”

I turned to see the queen walking up on my left with her ladies-in-waiting a few paces behind her…along with her dogs.

“Aunt—”

“Oh, spare me, for it is far too late to pretend you are not smitten with her, August,” she replied as she came up beside me. “You made your choice the moment you decided to stay.”

“You know?”

“I am the queen. I know everything. That is what queens do: They know things.” She walked on, and I had no choice but to follow. “I shall write to your mother and let her know I will see to your wedding and Lady Hathor’s training, though I doubt she shall need much.”

“Wedding? Aunt, I am not—”

“You’re not getting married, yes, that seems to be the silly mantra of you princes all over the world these days. As if marriage were solely for your benefit, and not that of a nation.” She huffed at me angrily. “In my day, you were considered fortunate if you were given a person’s portrait before seeing them on your wedding day.”

“Yes, Aunt, we thank God for the progressive nature of today’s society. You’ve created such a splendid kingdom that the youth of today believe in—”

“You must be under the impression that I am made of bread, with all that butter slipping from your lips. I must assure you that I am not,” she said sternly. I closed my mouth, merely nodding. “You like her, correct?”

“Aunt.”

“Am I correct? That is a direct question.”

I sucked on my cheek. “Just because I like her does not mean—”

“It means everything. All the eyes of society are on you both. There will be expectations, you will rise to those expectations. Therefore, you will marry Lady Hathor. The end.”

“Not the end!” I snapped angrily, causing her eyebrow to rise. I did my best to calm down. “I do not know how to be married. I do not know how to love someone. No one in my family knows how to love anyone. That emotion was not given to us. She will be miserable, I will be miserable, we will sit in a castle or a house in the countryside miserably regretting agreeing to a marriage simply because the Queen of England wanted it.”

She stared at me for a moment before calling out, “Lady Crane?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” The slender woman stepped forward with the queen’s puppy in hand.

“Find me a doctor who can cut out my nephew’s heart. I’m quite interested to see if it’s black, since it is apparently incapable of loving.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are my words but a joke to you, Aunt?”

“Jokes are for jesters. Orders are for queens. Find me the doctor, Lady Crane,” she said, and turned from me to continue on her way.

“If you are serious, then it seems you mean to murder me!” I called after her.

“It is not as if you are doing anything worthwhile with that life of yours!” she called back, and I watched the parade of people follow behind her.

Apparently, I could not win an argument with any woman in England.

16

Hathor

“Well, when is your wedding?” Clementina asked, pretending to read when I came to sit beside her in the gardens.

“Please do not tease me. My mind is rather spent beyond its limits as is.” I sighed and lifted the drink I had brought with me to my lips.

“I do not have to wonder who your mind was spent on; we all watched you and Prince Wilhelm in the boat. Mary almost fired a shot in your direction.” She giggled, closing her book before shifting closer to me. “So—what happened?”

“I do not know.” I was saying that a lot today. But it was truly how I felt. “One moment we are fighting, the next we are…”

“Flirting,” she finished for me. “Well, they say love and hate are opposite sides of the same coin.”

“Love is a bit drastic of a word. I have only just gotten to like.” I frowned and drank the rest of the contents of my glass, pouting.


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