Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“I do not mean to anger you, Aphrodite.”
“And yet you do.” My heart twisted once more. “What do you want from me, Your Grace?”
“A second chance.” He stepped close. “Aphrodite, I wish for another chance for us.”
“Do you know you never explained to me what went wrong the first time?” I asked him, staring into his brown eyes, waiting, hoping he’d oblige.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I beg of you.”
“Clarify then, and do not beg.”
He hung his head, closing his eyes. “I cannot.”
I wished to hit him. To scream in his face and push him over.
“Your Grace, know this: One day I may be able to forgive you, but by then I will surely be married to someone else, and it will no longer matter. Until then, please leave me be.”
I turned and left his company, walking in the direction of my mother.
She grabbed my arm. “What has happened? What have you said?”
“Mama, if you love me, you will not force me into such a position again,” I replied and pulled my arm out of her grasp.
6
Aphrodite
“And one, two, three. One, two, three. That is right, my lady, and now turn,” said my instructor from the piano as I moved about the drawing room under my mother’s gaze, for if there was anything she would not allow, it was for me to miss a single step. She had always believed that instructors and governesses were far too easy on me when she was not present. “Very good—”
“Not good at all,” my mother interrupted the woman. “Perhaps for another lady, but not for you. Again, from the beginning! I will not have us disgraced before the queen once more.”
“Mama, it has been hours,” I begged.
“Do you believe me harsh, my dear girl? Let this serve as a lesson, then, for all the time you wasted in Belclere sulking. There is no way to outrun your responsibilities, only delay them.”
I exhaled and truly wished to stomp my feet on the floor and wail as Abena did when she was tasked with pots to clean.
“Where is your mind, my dear?” my mother asked as I began to move to the music. “And why is your face still so stern? Do you dislike your partner?”
“I have no partner, Mama. I’m trapped alone in this dance.”
“I have been told that books inspire imagination. Since you are so besotted by reading, use your imagination and create a partner.”
I knew whom my mind would imagine, and I dared not torture myself any further. The man was already in my dreams. He did not need to conquer my waking hours, as well.
“Aphrodite—”
“Your ladyship,” a maid called, entering the drawing room.
“Yes?” My mother looked at her.
“A gentleman has come for the Lady Aphrodite.”
“Who?” Both my mother and I asked in unison.
“A Mr. Tristian Yves.”
My mother’s shoulders fell.
This was my chance to end my musical misery. “I shall see him.”
“And your steps?” my mother questioned.
“Can be taught another time? Is not the purpose of learning such steps for me to charm a suitor? Well, one has called.”
She did not frown, but she did not seem pleased, either. Instead, she looked at my instructor, dismissing her.
“I do hope you know what you are doing,” she said, picking at me as she moved to sit at the other end of the room where her needlework rested in wait.
“I am doing precisely as you requested. Finding a husband.”
Neither she nor I could say more as the gentleman entered with another bouquet of roses in one hand and a wrapped gift in the other.
“Your ladyship.” He nodded to my mother.
“Mr. Yves, your timing is most interesting,” she said to his confusion as his brows came together.
“She means most welcome,” I interrupted with a smile. “For you save me from many more dancing lectures.”
“It has always been my wish to be a hero.”
“Well done.” I nodded and looked at his full hands. “And these…”
“Gifts!” he said as if he had only just remembered them. “For you. I do hope you accept them.”
“Thank you.” I took the bouquet, smelling the flowers before I gave them to the maid. He handed me his second gift. The moment it touched my hands, I was instantly aware it was a book. “May I open it now?”
“Yes, please.”
I carefully undid the white string and peeled back the brown paper to reveal a rather expensive-looking edition of Shakespeare’s sonnets, which truly made me smile.
“I know you are fond of reading,” he said to me quickly.
“I am!” I said happily—until I opened it and saw that it had been marred with black ink.
“I wished not to shock you with anything unbecoming, so my mother had the book edited for content inappropriate for a lady,” he said, proudly. I now wished to throw the book at his face—such a fine book.
“How thoughtful of you,” my mother replied.