Verity and the Forbidden Suitor (The Dubells #2) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: The Dubells Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
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I needed to slow down, at the very least to prevent further talk of me from spreading. The last thing I should do was appear to be climbing my way within society. I did not wish for that. What did I wish for? Weeks ago, I would have said a simple, upright, and happy life. Now, when I pondered the question, a face appeared in my mind. It felt as though every day I was becoming more and more…enraptured. And these feelings left me utterly wary.

“What am I to do?” Logically, I ought to stay away from her, but I did not wish to.

Exhaling, I sat up and moved to my desk to see the letters. There were no requests for my services, but there were several wax seals from different members of the ton. And the first thing that came to mind was not their care but how such patients would further ingratiate me with society and allow me greater access to her.

The thought disgusted me, as I did not wish to be that type of man.

Collecting them all, I placed them into a drawer and, instead, took out my notes on my other patients over the course of my time here in London. I had neglected them enough.

I needed to avoid Verity for now.

Give her time to forget these feelings.

Verity

May 16, 1813

So far, my stay in London has involved me with a whole cast of characters and personalities, all of whom have left me to further inspect myself. And upon this inspection, I find my most pressing thought to be: “Why?” Why is everything this way? And why do I have no power to control or change it to my liking?

I glanced up from my journal and out of the window to where Theodore had stood beside Lord Hardinge in front of the marquess and marchioness. I could not hear what they were saying, but it did not matter much. I stayed watching…him, remembering our conversation over breakfast. I had been shocked to see him sitting there but quickly felt glad of his presence. Another outsider to ally with me. But to my surprise, he’d seemed rather comfortable, happy even.

Did not all illegitimate children have a sordid past that left them embittered and acrimonious? I knew that to be the case within my own family. The thought of Fitzwilliam ever happily sitting at a table as Theodore had seemed so far beyond reality in my mind. And yet, Theodore managed to blend in, something that I, myself, struggled with. Was it just me? No, Silva said she had struggled as well. So maybe it was because he was a man? Did that give him some further advantage I did not know of? Either way, his words to me had made me…sad. The idea that a family would be denied to him simply because of his birth…no, not a family…a family with me because of our statuses. I had never even truly given a thought to having my own family before, but the feeling of him outright denying the possibility of it…hurt. I understood his reasoning but the injustice also frustrated me.

“What am I to do, Theodore?” I whispered down to his figure, and as if he had heard me, he looked up. I do not know what expression I made, but I could clearly see the slight smile on his face, and in return, I felt myself smile as well.

All too suddenly, he and the carriage were gone.

“What are you looking at?”

I turned to see Abena in my room. Clearly, knocking before entering was foreign here.

“Nothing, just writing,” I said, closing my journal. “Is everything all right?”

She stepped closer. “When do you go back home?”

“Do you not like me here?”

She shook her head. “No, not that. Mama said that I can’t go see Odite until after you had been home for at least three weeks.”

I had not known there was such a rule. But it was clear what she meant. “You miss your sister?”

She made a face and skipped over to me. “Don’t you miss your brother? Aren’t you writing to him?”

I had not actually thought to write to him because I assumed he would be far too preoccupied with his own happiness, and I did not wish to remind him to worry over me.

“No, I was writing to myself.”

“Yourself? Why? You are with you all the time.”

I chuckled. “Yes, I am. That is the problem sometimes. I have so many thoughts and want to order them, so I put them down in a book.”

“What do you do once they are ordered?”

“I try to learn from them. I’m not actually sure, but it does make me feel better.”

“Okay.” She lost interest and then once more asked, “So, when do you go back to Everely?”

“Sadly, it shall not be for another few weeks at least.”



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