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)
Hathor Du Bell has always fought to break free from the shadow left by her revered older sister, Aphrodite. It has been two years since Hathor’s debut, and while Aphrodite is a duchess, Hathor has been left with the most boring, incomparable suitors of the ton. With the London season coming to a close, Hathor’s anxieties reach a peak. Will she be the only Du Bell unable to find her perfect match?
Then Hathor’s wildest dream comes true when the Queen announces she’ll be presenting Prince Wilhelm Augustus Karl Von Edward of Malrovia during the week-long society event at the Du Bells’ Belclere Castle. But the dream quickly crumbles when Hathor is face to face with the prince, and he is nothing like she imagined.
A flirtatious rivalry sparks a genuine romance, meanwhile Hathor fights to make a name of her own, despite society’s expectations of her. Amidst the grand balls and growing feelings, the final events of the season promise to be the most romantic and shocking of them all.
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1
Hathor
My name is Hathor Du Bell.
Not Heather, but Ha-ther. However, not a soul exists outside of my family and our servants who pronounces my name properly, so my papa instructed that I correct people each and every time, for he was quite proud of my name—Hathor, the Egyptian goddess of the sky, women, and love. As a child, I treasured nothing more than to listen to his tales of my ancient namesake. As an adult—well, as much of an adult as I was permitted to be—I felt quite goaded by the name, for my dear papa had left out one critical fact, which I realized on my own. The goddess Hathor was, and forever will be, in the shadow of the goddess Isis, and the Greek counterpart for Isis is Aphrodite—the name my papa bestowed upon my elder sister. Thus, I always found myself overflowing with a childish desire to outshine her.
It was a war I declared of my own volition.
A war my sister did not even acknowledge, yet she defeated me in every battle. My sister was supremely victorious whether it was in music, dancing, reading, languages…beauty. Just like her ancient namesake, Aphrodite, was the ideal, the very measure of accomplishment. It had been two years, one month, two weeks, one day, and five hours since she had become known as Her Grace, the Duchess of Everely. Her greatest triumph. And though I was truly happy for her, there existed in me a deep hurt, an unattended wound somewhere within that left me in anguish. I knew not where this wound was, but I was sure of my attacker.
It was Aphrodite.
Even now, despite the distance between us, I felt her sword striking once more.
“Pregnant!” my mama, Lady Deanna Du Bell, the Marchioness of Monthermer, all but proclaimed to us as she rushed into the study. “Aphrodite is pregnant!”
“Truly? How wonderful!” My father grinned, tossing his book onto the table in haste to see the letter my mother waved like a royal decree before us. If anyone knew anything about my father, Lord Charles Du Bell, the Marquess of Monthermer, it was that he did not toss books lightly.
“Yes, she is rather far along. She wished not to say anything until she was very well sure. Now that she is, she apologizes for not being able to make it this summer but assures us that despite persistent exhaustion and an insatiable appetite for bread-and-butter pudding, she is in good health.” My mother handed the letter to him, even though she had told him all its contents.
The grin on my father’s white face was so wide I could count every wrinkle. “If I remember correctly, you were similarly afflicted while pregnant with Damon. The whole estate smelled like a bakery for weeks.”
“Did someone say my name?” Damon questioned as he entered the study, carrying in his arms a small girl, not yet two, with light brown skin and the curliest brown hair. Immediately upon seeing her, my mother rushed to take her into her arms.
“Mini, you are going to be a big cousin soon.” My mother kissed her cheek. The girl’s name was actually Minerva, Minerva Du Bell, as Damon had sought to keep Father’s tradition of styling all daughters after goddesses. However, everyone had taken to calling her Mini, a nickname bestowed by none other than our youngest sister, Abena, who was most glad to have someone younger to order around now. Mini, though, had no clue what Mother rambled to her.
“Truly?” Damon smiled the same as our father as he stood next to him to see the letter. Over the years, I had noticed that while Damon looked completely like our mother, he had inherited all of our father’s personality traits—except book reading. Mother’s skin was a warm brown, just like Damon’s, and their eyes were the same shade of dark brown. “What grand news. I will write to Evander to congratulate him. If the boy is born before Christmas, maybe we will spend the new year with them at Everely since they cannot make it this summer.”
“The boy?” My father chuckled. “How are you so certain the child will be a boy?”
“Did you not say Mother was similar when pregnant with me? Odite always does everything in Mother’s image. Besides, Evander has a daughter already, so I’m sure a boy will supply some comfort,” Damon explained.
“Strange that you provided no such comfort with your birth, only greater concern.” My father chuckled, causing Damon to roll his eyes, which then fell upon me as I sat in the corner of the room behind my easel.
“Hathor? I did not even realize you were in here,” Damon said.
“Yes, I noticed. Mama did not either,” I replied as I sketched the book stacks behind them to the best of my ability.
“I very well did notice you, my dear. I was merely waiting for you to offer your excitement at this joyous news. Why are you just sitting there?” my mother said as she bounced Mini in her arms. And they all looked at me, waiting.