Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Ambrose. You may leave us,” my mother directed, and he bowed his head to us both before exiting Arthur’s—my personal study.
“Augusta Wyntor-Washington, Odette Wyntor’s younger sister, claims her sister has snubbed her? Who is she going to be at war with next—Eliza?” I snapped. They had chosen a photo that had to be at least five or six years old based on the outfit choice—ripped denim overalls, rose-colored shades, and her hair was much shorter and in pigtails—and city, most likely Seattle. She did not look bad. However, they had chosen a much more modern and pretty photo for her sister for some reason.
“The length these people will go to never surprises me. However, why, in God’s name, would her sister speak to the press? I thought they were on good terms,” she asked me as if I would know.
The last time Odette and I had spoken about her sister was months ago. I had thought because Odette cared for her, they would have worked it out, but her sister had come with another knife to stab from behind again, it seemed.
“It is jealousy,” I muttered.
“I do not care what it is. It cannot happen again,” my mother declared, tossing the paper onto my desk. “Today’s story was supposed to be about the signing of the Austrian Treaty yesterday, as well as the upcoming Bellecoeur Garden Party as your official first outing together. Instead, it is this nonsense.”
At the very mention of it, I wanted to throw my head onto the desk. Over 10,000 people up close and personal, forced to make conversation with everyone, was supposed to be our first royal public event together?
“Throwing her to wolves would be kinder, Mother.”
“I will ignore you because I cannot bear to explain once again why it must be so.”
I exhaled. “I understand, I do. It is to get as many people to see her live and in-person instead of just reading about her in articles, such as these in the press. But even so, you must see how brutal this will be. She has only just gotten a grasp of part of all the protocols. Her understanding of Ersovian is decent at best. Never in this family history have we used the garden party for an official engagement first outing. That is usually saved for after the wedding for a reason. It is like war.”
“Are you done preaching to me about all the things I already know?” she questioned, and I felt slightly better. “Yes, it will be brutal, but the brutality is the only way we can combat the press. They keep creating stories because we are not saying anything.”
“Oh, there is plenty I wish to say.”
“Galahad.”
“I understand, Mother, and I am listening and following all your directions, even as it pains me to do so. Even though I can barely see the woman I love, as you have locked her in with tutors from morning till night.” I swallowed hard. Over the last few weeks, I had only seen Odette at breakfast and dinner. Partially because of her never-ending army of tutors and partially because of my own duties. I could feel our conversations getting shorter and shorter. This morning, she had all but rushed past me to not be late for her first tutor.
“All of it will be worth it in the end.”
“Will I still know what she looks and sounds like by then?” I muttered.
“I am starting to see that the less you see of her in a day, the more of a brat you become,” she replied.
“Then clearly, I need to see her more.”
“Or you can continue with the piles of work you must go through and allow her to prepare for what will be the greatest moment of her life to date. You, yourself, said the garden party was like war. Well, she is in training, so do not disturb her.”
I did not reply. Instead, I lifted and opened the black folder with our family seal on the cover, preparing to just sign it when I saw the nobles who would be attending the garden party. One caused me to check through the list of other guests until I saw the other name.
“Lady Giselle Bancroft and Sabina Franziska are attending,” I stated coldly, staring at the paper.
“Of course, Lady Giselle Bancroft, the wife of Lord of Belway. How could he not be in attendance? He is a member of the House of Lords. Sabina Franziska is the former Countess of Gormsey and the daughter of Sir Adam J. Franziska,” she replied with the same coldness.
When I looked back up at her, I knew there was almost nothing my mother did not know. Yet she pretended as if she did not know the reason I had asked. So, I sighed.
“I am going to check on your father,” she said, and as she rose, so did I. But before she could leave, I said one thing.