Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Thank you. I shall be ready.” I nodded to her.
“I will call for Bernice to tend to you.” She left me no room to refuse, as she was already at the door.
I waited until she was gone before falling back upon the bed, raising the sheets over my face. How mortifying and obnoxious, my first night here and I had already caused the marchioness concern!
Please, please, on all that is holy, I prayed that only she was aware of this. The last thing I wished was for my troubles to become an open secret among the house like it had in Everely. The more I thought of it, the more I groaned as I rolled on the bed.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
Immediately, I sat up and ripped the sheets from my head to find Hathor at the door, still dressed in her nightgown with a lavender shawl draped around her, looking back at me.
“Nothing,” I calmly replied as I released my grip upon the sheets. “May I ask why you’ve entered my room unannounced?”
“It is technically my room,” she stated as she moved to the mahogany dressing table, the pulls of which were made of gold leaves to match the casing of the three golden mirrors—so one could see themselves at every angle. A quick moment of terror rushed through me as I remembered my journal and the box. But luckily, I had returned them both to the depths of my trunk.
“I thought this room belonged to Aphrodite,” I said as I brought my feet down into my slippers and glanced back at the door she’d entered.
“It did. When she was merely my sister, but now she is the Duchess of Everely and has a great many other rooms she may call her own and, thus, can bequeath me this one. So, I would greatly appreciate it if you did not ruin the bedding.”
I cautiously narrowed my eyes, as I was unsure if she sought conflict this morning. But it would not have surprised me. I knew few young noble ladies, but it was clear they did not like me. Not truly. Everyone told me it was envy, but still, it was tiring to negotiate between their pleasantries and their apparent venom.
“You are quite slow,” she stated, frowning.
I scoffed in anger. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your responses. They leave much to be desired,” she answered as she turned to look at the vanity, inspecting the creams there. “We Du Bells are a sharp-witted family. You must have a clever rejoinder for any perceived slight, or you shall make things uncomfortable.”
“Sharp-witted or odd?” I spat out without thinking and immediately thought to apologize when I heard her giggle.
“Both,” she replied as she began to sniff one of my creams. “Do not worry. You shall get used to it.”
I was usually sharp-witted, at least with those I was close to, so mostly just Evander. “Will I also need to become accustomed to you entering my rooms in the morning?”
“Only if I come to like you. I have not yet decided.”
“Then what brings you here now?”
“That reply was not nearly witty enough. You will need to work on that, I see,” she replied, lifting another jar.
Again I scoffed. Who did she think I was?
“I did not realize it was my duty to keep you entertained.”
“Much better.” She smiled and glanced back over her shoulder at me. “And yes, it is both of our duties to keep each other entertained.”
“Why?”
“Did you forget your purpose in coming to London?”
Again with this? Had her mother sent her?
Hathor sighed dramatically when I did not reply. “The season, Verity. We must find good husbands. There are still many weeks to go, which means you and I shall be spending a great deal of time together, and as such, I thought it only correct that you and I establish a footing this morning. Good conversation provides a good footing.”
“You being here, in my rooms, at first light, is for us to plot how to secure a husband?”
Hathor frowned, her head tilting to the side. “What else is there for young ladies to plot?”
“I know not but hope our lives or, at the very least, our mornings do not revolve around such.”
“What else are we meant to speak of? Sausage and eggs?”
I laughed. However, seeing her expression sour, I sought to compose myself.
“Fine. Forgive me for laughing. I rarely speak of such things as husbands or the like.” Within the span of hours I had already had the conversation twice.
“Of course not. Your mama is not here to press you.” She said it without thought, and I watched her eyes widen, but truly, I was not bothered, as she clearly meant it without malice. “I am—”
“That is the danger of being sharp-witted,” I interrupted before she could apologize. “There is a tendency to speak without thought.”