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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I would have carried on, had he not given me a look of amusement.

“And she?” he pressed.

“Why am I saying this to you? Your time would be better spent in going to bring her back now.”

“You wish me to go to Lord Monthermer and tell him Prince Wilhelm misses his daughter doting on him hand and foot, and that she is to return at once?”

“Surely, you can think of better words than that, can you not? Tell them—tell them my condition is worsening.”

“It is not.”

“Obviously, but she’d return, which is the point.”

“Lady Hathor was deeply affected emotionally when you were injured. She nearly pushed her mother to the ground, refusing to leave you, and you wish me to lie and put her in that state once more?”

“Well, when you say it that way, I feel immature and unkind—wait, she pushed her mother?”

“Yes. Verity said Lady Monthermer was hurt by it, and so I assume Lady Hathor is staying longer to make up for her actions.”

There was something truly wrong with me, I was sure of it—but I was glad. I was happy she would go through so much, do so much, just to remain at my side.

“Tomorrow. Say what you must to bring her back tomorrow,” I replied, taking another bite just as the door opened. Once more, I leaned toward it, hoping it was her. Instead, it was the very last person I wished to see in this moment.

She was dressed head to toe in black silk except for her white gloves, her brown hair was pinned into a curl on one side of her head, a row of diamonds across her neck. Her blue eyes looked over me calmly, then the food, then Sir Darrington, who now stood up and stared back at her. He bowed his head, but from his expression it was clear he was at a loss as to who she was.

“I presume you are the doctor?” she asked him.

“Yes, Lady—”

“Queen Augusta. His mother. What is his prognosis? Will there be any lingering damage to his person?”

“I am not the royal doctor—”

“Then why are you here?”

“He is here because he saved my life,” I finally interrupted. “Good day to you, too, Mother. Worry not; I am well. And in time, I shall return to full health.”

“Leave us,” she said coldly to Sir Darrington, who merely nodded to her, taking his things before shutting the door behind him.

Her eyes examined every corner as if it were vile. “She placed you in the worst rooms, there is barely any light.”

“If by she, you mean Aunt Charlotte, the Queen of England, I can assure you she’s given far too much care to me.”

“You are her nephew. There is no such thing as too much.”

“Did you come here solely to inquire about my accommodations? What a pity. A letter would have sufficed.”

“I am here because your father is dead.”

“So I keep hearing. May he be judged accordingly by God.”

“I am also here because I missed you, son,” she replied as she came around the bed, dusting off the chair Sir Darrington had been sitting in with her handkerchief before taking a seat.

I chuckled. “How convenient that such an emotion came after his death.”

“You are still angry with me. And here I thought you would have matured over the years, and come to understand my position—”

“Mother, I have always understood your position.”

“Then why the anger, still?”

“Because I hate your position,” I sneered, glaring at her, breathing through my nose as I felt my temper rising. “You always did your best as queen, and you have always been a good one. However, as a mother, you have failed me greatly. As such, I do not need you here, though I congratulate you on your recent widowhood.”

She did not even flinch, she just removed her gloves. “Well, that was some welcome speech, after such a long journey. Does it make you feel better?”

I moved the tray, no longer hungry. “What do you want, Your Majesty?”

“For you to assume your duties, of course. It is what all mothers want.”

“My duties? Which duties?”

“The ones to your brother and your nation.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s time for you to come home, August. That is why I have come. To bring you home.”

I laughed. Even though it hurt, I laughed. “It’s your duty to banish me and your duty to retrieve me, is it?”

“Your brother needs you. You know he is not strong enough to shoulder all this alone. The parliament, the rebels, all of our enemies know he is sickly—”

“Frederick is no longer a sickly little boy, Mother. He’s actually quite strong, in fact, considering he was able to withstand both you and father for so long.”

“And he can be stronger with his brother at his side.”

“Why should I live my life for Friedrick, or you, or a nation that did not care if I fell to the ends of the earth?”



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