Hathor and the Prince (The Dubells #3) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: The Dubells Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
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Wilhelm

“Have you gone mad, Lukas?” Lord Chiswick chuckled along with the other gentlemen inside the parlor room, pouring glasses amongst themselves as Lukas moved to sit.

“He must be, who asks a man for his daughter’s hand in marriage while he’s holding a rifle…” Their eyes shifted to me for a moment as I took a seat in a chair opposite him. “The woman very well may be spoken for.”

“Lady Hathor is engaged? I’ve heard nothing of the sort. To whom?” he asked, smirking when none of them answered. “As I thought. Fortunately, she is unpromised, and so it is within my right to offer my hand if I so choose. Is that not right, August?”

“Clearly,” I answered, bringing my drink to my lips, though my jaw felt unreasonably tight. “Just as it is her right to reject you, if she pleases.”

“I do not see why she would. Her father seemed rather pleased with the proposal—”

I chuckled. “She might reject you because she’s barely spoken with you but a few times.”

“You might not be aware, but that is customary here.”

“Ah, I am sure Lady Hathor will be overjoyed at your unromantic approach.”

“Romance is for poets and playwrights, not husbands,” he replied sternly. “Women need the stability of a proper estate, the comforts of high society, and…”

“Many children to keep them preoccupied,” the man to my right added.

“Exactly. Such things a husband provides. Where is your estate, again, August?” Lukas questioned, with a sneer on his face.

“What is your estate like, back in your country, Your Highness? You’ve never spoken of it,” the other man pressed, and I had the distinct feeling he spoke to aid Lukas in leveling veiled taunts at me.

“I doubt a prince has only one estate. Does it matter?” another asked.

“It matters greatly. What father would not want to know where his daughter is to live?” Lukas replied, lifting his glass to his lips before looking to me. “Well, August?”

“When I speak to my future father-in-law, I will let you know. Or better yet, I’ll let him choose. After all, where besides France can a prince not live?” I snapped back, growing very tired of seeing his face before me.

“But do you not loathe high society?”

“How well you think you know me, Lord Covington. I look forward to proving that to be one of your many mistakes.”

“You would know about mistakes, would you not, my friend?”

“Friend?” I repeated the word and shook my head. “I do not count the gutless among my friends.”

“Gutless?” He sat up. “And to whom do you refer?”

“Gentlemen, let us all remain civil,” one man called out, trying to intervene, but civility did not exist here.

“I refer to you, sir.” I leaned back in my chair. “I refer to your whole charade. For it shocks me in its desperation. You could not gain the lady’s affections or attentions through your own efforts, and now you wish to push the matter before all of society in a pitiful attempt to win her hand. And you call that customary? It is, as I said, gutless.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot: We are before a man who knows all about gaining ladies’ affections and attentions for no other purpose than to ruin them! Young, old, married, unmarried…it matters not to you, right? A family trait, I suppose? How I pity your long-suffering mother!” he sneered.

I placed my glass down and rose to my feet, making them all rise but him. When I took a step closer, a man grabbed my arm, but I yanked it back.

“I don’t believe I heard you clearly, Lukas. To whom were you trying to refer with that comment?”

He finished the drink in his glass before rising and looking me in the eye. “I wonder to whom I was referring, as well. You would know better than anyone else whom you take after. Is that not why you have chosen to forgo marriage?”

“Whom I propose to is none of your business!”

“And to whom and how I propose is none of yours! You may be the queen’s nephew, but that does not mean this land or the women in it belong to you. I will not be dissuaded or insulted by a criminal—”

My fist connected with his jaw before he could finish the insult. I felt all the annoyance he’d brought me since we had met again rushing back to me, and nothing brought me greater joy than to feel the bone in his face beneath my knuckles.

“Enough! Have you all gone mad?” the marquess hollered. When he had arrived, I was not sure. I was not even sure how long I’d been held back for.

“I have not, but any man who allows this beast near his daughter truly is!” Lukas hollered as he, too, was restrained, his mouth and nose bleeding furiously. “This is his true nature. He does not even fear attacking his own father—”


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