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 shall they be performing?” I whispered to her.

“Papa chose Lysistrata.”

“Lysistrata? From the Greek?”

“Where else could it be from?” she whispered back, her eyes glued to the women onstage.

I asked because I was shocked at how a father would allow his daughter to watch a play such as this—after all, it was about women denying their husbands sex to end a war. However, as I watched, I noticed some alterations had been made. Instead of saying they were denying the men sex, they claimed they were denied the presence of women altogether. Since they wished to fight a war, they could have the world all to themselves to do so. It was a small adjustment for decorum, but it was humorous to me, and, I was sure, every other gentleman who knew the play. Why the men were in such agony without women was not discussed. Instead, it was implied the men could not withstand never seeing their beauty or hearing their laughter.

When I glanced over at her…she was spellbound in joyful awe, a closed-lipped smile on her face. She even clenched her hands together in excitement. I did not know she enjoyed watching plays so much. I found myself staring more at her than I did the stage, and before long, Lysistrata proclaimed:

Let each man stand beside his wife,

each wife beside her man,

and then, to celebrate good times,

let’s dance in honor of God.

And for all future time,

let’s never make the same mistake again.

The end.

Hathor’s applause was thunderous. The play had been significantly shortened and distorted but had left all the young ladies enraptured.

“Were they not excellent?” Hathor exclaimed to me as she clapped.

The expression on her face was…“Most exquisite,” I muttered.

“If only we could do the same with the French,” Lady Clementina suddenly spoke behind us.

Hathor turned back to her, enthusiastically asking, “Shall we write to the French ladies?”

“Are there any French ladies left?” Lady Clementina replied.

“The commoners then. They fight, too. All ladies of all backgrounds shall come together and make the men miss us terribly,” Hathor replied.

They both laughed, but stopped when Lady Clementina leaned forward to whisper, “Look who misses your company now.”

It was Lukas, who was walking over to where we sat. Hathor sat up straighter, adjusting her dress.

“I cannot believe you, of all ladies, fall so easily for such tricks,” I muttered.

“What do you mean?” Lady Hathor asked.

“Do you know how many ladies he’s given a pathetic little flower to? Said some gentle words of endearment to? Let me guess: He said you are ‘deserving of only the happiest of happily ever afters’?” When her eyes widened in shock, proving I was right that the man was just repurposing all my lines, I shook my head. “You were so insulted when I called you nothing but an innocent little lamb…yet, here you are, proving me correct. How very disappointing and foolish of you, my lady.”

When her lips trembled, her nosed bunched, and her eyes narrowed at me as though I were the most bastardly bastard in all of England, I realized I had gone too far.

“I—”

She stood up immediately and glared down at me. “Excuse me, Your Highness. As always, I seem to find your company astonishingly intolerable.”

Fuck, I thought, rising to my feet as she marched off.

No, truly, fuck! What was I saying? Why was I acting like this?

“That was harsh.” I looked at Lady Clementina, who was now the only lady near me amongst the chairs. “And you did not mean it.”

“Then why did I say it?” I grumbled, more at myself than at her.

“Is it not obvious?”

“Is what not obvious?”

“You’re jealous,” she remarked with a soft smile.

“What? Jealous? Why would I be jealous of her?”

She laughed at me, shaking her head. “You are not jealous of her. You are jealous of Lord Covington for taking her attention. I do not know much about courting, Your Highness, but I do believe such feelings only arise when you’re smitten with someone.”

I did not say anything. Instead, I watched as Lady Hathor smiled and talked to some other gentlemen next to her brother, my expression grim. Lady Clementina was right. But had I not, just this morning in fact, resolved myself not to like Hathor? Did I not tell myself to stay away from her, to draw a line? I failed, and it had not even been a day’s worth of effort.

“Normally, I would say don’t worry. Hathor only pretends to hold grudges. However,” said Lady Clementina as she walked by me, “she seems quite determined to despise you, so I do hope you find a way to apologize quickly.”

Was I meant to spend all of my days apologizing to this one woman?

Still silent, I took the offered wine that came around with the footmen. I could do nothing but stare at Hathor and drink. Clearly, I’d lost my mind over the course of my time here. I was adamant about not wanting to marry her, and now I was jealous of those who did want to!



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