Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“It is because of his certainty that I feel compelled to make it. After all, I too was once so certain marriage would not be in my cards,” Damon replied as he placed his cards out on the table. “Well, Your Highness, who has won?”
I glanced at my cards in my hand, my jaw cracked to the side. I placed the cards down. “You have won the battle but not the war.”
The men cheered him.
“Of all your father’s talents, Damon, you seemed to have inherited his luck at cards most strongly,” Sir Branham replied.
“His luck at everything, actually. I look forward to your wedding, August.” Damon grinned as he collected his winnings.
“I shall disappoint you.”
“We shall see at the end of the week.”
These Du Bells…I was starting to see why everyone spoke so highly of them. Their confidence was striking, it nearly made you want to believe alongside them. Even his sister Hathor spoke with such determination and vigor. Her face suddenly came to mind, like it had done dozens of times since first meeting her a month ago.
If only she were not such a precious and innocent noble lady, we could have—no. It was best not to even think of it.
No attachments.
I would have no such attachments to women. I would not live as my parents lived.
I could not bear it.
5
Hathor
Mama had lectured me to near deafness demanding to know the reason for my behavior, and all I could tell her was that I had overheard him insulting me in the park. While that was the truth it was not the entirety of it. For how could I have told her that not only had he insulted me, but he had also boasted about being a rake, a scoundrel who saw women as nothing more than playthings for his own personal enjoyment? And if that were not already horrid enough, he had been in the arms of the Viscountess of Millchester, kissing her cheek, speaking poorly of marriage, and discussing mistresses! It was all so unspeakably vile and abhorrent. He was very clearly the worst of men, dressed up in finery, fooling all the world. Yet all the other young ladies, and even their mothers, all day long were giggling about how handsome he was and his pleasant demeanor.
It was an act. A display of mockery in fact. He was a wretch and he’d managed to ruin all hope I’d had for this week. It was as though he had drained me of my spirit and as such, I could hardly even bother to put much effort into preparing for the evening. In fact, I did not wish to go back down for dinner for fear that I would be forced to maintain pleasantries with him.
“My lady, your mother has sent these pearls for you to wear for dinner, which would you prefer?” Bernice asked, showing the two strands of white spheres upon the velvet cushion. They were absolutely beautiful and would surely make me look even more splendid. But what was the point? There was no one worthy of seeing me in them.
“It’s fine, I shall keep this necklace I have already,” I replied gently.
“My lady”—Bernice bent down beside me—“even if you do not wish the attention of Prince Wilhelm, there are still many other gentlemen in attendance. You should not allow him to so affect your mood.”
“He affects nothing in me! In fact, he does not exist in my eyes. Only honorable men do.” I huffed before looking back at my reflection. She said nothing, instead refocusing her efforts on my hair, making sure not a single pin was showing as I sat dreading what was to come.
How could a man be so devoid of all…positive attributes?
“Why are you so quiet?” Abena asked as she entered my rooms unannounced.
“Because I am thinking. You ought to try it for once.”
“I think!”
“Of food and how to annoy me,” I shot back.
“That’s true.” She did not even seek to deny it. She welcomed herself to come in even farther, walking over to my bed to throw herself upon it.
“Abena, I am not in the mood, please go away,” I begged.
“But I’m bored!”
I did not get to answer, as there was a knock at the door.
“Enter?”
When the door opened, it was not Ingrid, my mother’s right hand, but Devana. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she was dressed in our favorite color—green.
“What are you both doing?” she asked.
“Hathor is grumpy, and I’m bored so we are doing nothing.”
I wanted to smack her. “I am preparing for dinner. Abena is bothering me—that is what we are doing.”
“Abena, do you mind if Hathor and I talk for a moment?” Devana asked as she came over to us, holding the post of my bed. I looked at her strangely, not sure why she wished to speak privately, and apparently neither was Abena.