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 fell back down upon the stool. “Mama, he is kind. I do not wish to embarrass him.”
“Then you should not have taken his hand last night. Did I not tell you each time you accepted him that you gave him hope?”
“I danced with others as well.”
“But you gave him your first dance as he requested and then spoke mostly with him,” she reminded me. I opened my mouth to explain, but she held up her hand, stopping me. “Whether you were interested during your conversations matters not. To all those who witnessed you, it seemed as though you were a couple. So here we now are. You will be either his betrothed or the lady who led him to disappointment.”
“That is unfair!” I protested. “It is all unfair! And I have had enough of it. You wish for Evander. Everyone in the house wishes for Tristian. I am pulled in every different direction. I did not wish to give him my first dance last night. However, Damon came to get me—”
“Did your brother tell you to dance with him?” she replied. “Aphrodite, your choices may be limited but do not act as if you have not had them. You merely keep wishing to run because you are afraid. You had no business being with the servants. Should a gentleman ask you to dance, you are free to refuse!”
“Am I? Am I free? I think not. Freedom would have been to not be at the ball. Freedom would have been to leave me be in Belclere!”
“Your family was not in Belclere! And the freedom you seek is not afforded to anyone. Not men, not women, not servants, not even the king! Everyone has responsibilities. You cannot just sit in a castle, eating cakes and reading books all day. What do you think affords you such a life? Is it not your father? Is it not generations of women who married and men who toiled to create this world? You whine and complain about such a grand life, where your biggest worry is marrying a future earl. The servants in this house make harder choices than you do every day.”
I hung my head, gripping my hands tightly, seeking to calm myself. She came to me, placing her hands upon mine.
“You are truly blessed, my dear, but you must grow up. And you must make a choice. Either you will accept him, or you will stand firm and reject him, knowing it will hurt him, but it is your future that matters.” She kissed the side of my head. “Think wisely on what it is you want—who it is you want.”
When she turned to leave, I sat back down and rested my forehead upon the top of the piano.
“Has she gone?”
I turned to see Abena’s curly hair poking out from the side of the chair.
“How long have you been there?”
She brought her hand away from around her mouth, covered with a mess of sweets. “The whole time!”
“Abena!” I gasped as she rose and skipped toward me. “I thought you went to do the pots?”
She made a face. “I hate the pots.”
“Is that not the point of punishment?”
“Why am I always the one being punished?” She sighed, and I moved, allowing her to sit beside me. “All I do is talk.”
“Ladies are not to talk much or often or truthfully. So I am told,” I replied.
“Then why do we have mouths?”
“Well, in your case, it seems it’s for sweets.” I laughed and used my handkerchief to clean her face.
“If it was just for sweets, I would be…mute?” She tilted her head to the side. “Those are people who cannot speak, right?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Right, so if my mouth was just for sweets, I would be mute.”
“Very good argument, and I concur. But as we are mere ladies, nobody will listen to our arguments, even if they are logical, because they think us illogical beings.” For wanting everything men had. How nonsensical.
“I do not understand.” She shook her head.
“Neither do I,” I replied, placing my hands upon the keys.
“So what are you to do?”
“About?” I questioned as I played.
“Mr. Yves. You dislike him.”
“I do not. I just do not wish to marry him.”
“Is that not because you dislike him?” she pressed.
“Well, Abena, it is complicated.”
“Why?”
“Because it is.”
“I do not understand.” She frowned again. “If you do not like someone, do not marry them. If you like them, marry them.” She lifted her hands in front of herself like scales. “You do not like Tristian, so do not marry him. You like Evander. Marry him.”
My head whipped to her. “Who said I like Evander?”
“You?”
“When did I say that?”
“When you were sleeping, you kept saying Evander, Evander, Evander—”
I clasped my hand over her mouth. “I do believe food suits your mouth much better!”
She broke out into a fit of giggles, poking my side, so she could hop away. She spun in the room. “You like him. You like him.”