Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
All agreed it was time for me to move on, even me. But on to what?
I opened my eyes to the greenery of the world outside.
“And here I thought you intended to sleep the whole way,” my brother said.
“Forgive me, brother. Have I missed anything of interest?” When my gaze fell to him, there was a soft yet woeful smile on his face, as if I were a wounded animal that needed the lightest care.
“Of course not. I only jest. Though I do wonder how you manage to sleep with this jostling,” he replied just as the carriage shook violently. “Gently!” he called out to our driver.
“Beg your pardon, my lord. The road is not good this season,” he replied.
“Then why on earth did he take this road?” Damon frowned, looking at his wife, who just gave him a slight glance, but it was enough for him to hold his tongue.
“London fashion has changed since you were here last, Aphrodite. We must go to the modiste together to get you new dresses,” Silva said. I was not sure if it was the musings of my imagination, but she always seemed to become more rigid when she spoke to me. Perhaps she was still not accustomed to being part of our family.
“We are sisters now. You may call me Odite or Dite if you prefer,” I replied. “And yes, I will accompany you to the modiste, though I do not believe I will be in want of any dresses. I am sure my mother is more than prepared.”
“Hmm.” Damon chuckled, nodding in agreement before looking at his wife. “Knowing our mother, the modiste is already in our home, awaiting our arrival.”
“I fear Mother will not be pleased with how big I have gotten,” I said.
“Forgive me, but big where?” Silva laughed, her brown eyes looking me over.
“Her imagination.” Damon laughed along with her. “Sister, you must not aim to fit Mother’s standards of beauty. They do not exist in this world. You now embody the dream of almost all young ladies everywhere.”
“He is right.” Silva let out a deep breath. “If you are self-deprecating, what hope is there for the rest of us mere mortals?”
“You both hold me in too high regard,” I said. I did not seek to be self-deprecating, nor did I believe there was anything wrong with me. But my brother was correct—our mother’s standards were not achievable. She remained more unnerved by my aging than I did. The slightest growth or change in my appearance would not escape her eye.
“Odite, you are a Du Bell. High regard is the standard to which you are meant to be held.” Damon nodded as if his words were gospel. To him, I was sure they were. “Worry not, sister. Truly, I believe this season shall be one you will not forget. So long as you allow yourself to enjoy it.”
“Of course.” It was all I could bring myself to say in return, as I shifted my gaze to the trees and blue sky above. Then, without notice, the whole carriage shook with such force we were jostled out of place.
“By heavens! Driver!” Damon called out, grabbing hold of his wife.
“Forgive me, my lord. There is an accident ahead!” the driver called back.
“Oh dear,” Silva said as my brother checked out the window. “Is anyone hurt? Should we stop?”
“Drive on!” My brother’s voice roared like thunder and his fist clenched in rage, leaving us both perplexed at the change in his demeanor.
“Are you well?” I asked him.
“Quite,” he grumbled and kept his head high. “Do not look out the window. Women should not gaze upon such unsightly events.”
“Unsightly?” Silva giggled and moved to see. “What could possibly—”
“Silva,” he reprimanded, and she stilled. The carriage filled with silence, allowing us to hear the conversation outside.
“Your Grace, are you well?” one voice questioned.
“Yes.”
My breath caught at the sound of that voice. It could not be.
“Verity, are you injured?”
That was as sure a confirmation as any. My brother’s gaze shifted to me, and I understood why he had shouted at the driver.
Remain calm, I directed myself, lifting my head high and following Damon’s direction to not look out the window.
But the fact that our paths had already crossed when we had not even entered London yet was unsettling. Even worse was how my ears strained to hear his voice as we moved farther away from him.
Plato said love was a grave mental disease, and I feared returning to London would make me realize I was still quite ill.
2
Aphrodite
“Odite!” my younger brother called as he ran toward me.
Immediately, my arms opened and braced for the impact of his small body, though it was not as small as I remembered.
“Oh, Hector.” I laughed, squeezing him tightly. “Look at you. From where did this height come?”
“From his father, of course,” replied the deep and jubilant voice of my papa. He joined us in the foyer, with a book in one of his hands, as always.