Hathor and the Prince, page 1
Hathor and the Prince is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by J. J. McAvoy
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Dell, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Dell and the D colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: McAvoy, J. J., author.
Title: Hathor and the prince / J. J. McAvoy.
Description: New York: Dell Books, 2024. | Series: The Du Bells; 3 |
Identifiers: LCCN 2023044324 (print) | LCCN 2023044325 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593500088 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780593500095 (ebook)
Subjects: LCGFT: Romance fiction. | Novels.
Classification: LCC PR9199.4.M386 H38 2024 (print) | LCC PR9199.4.M386 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23/eng/20231002
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023044324
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023044325
Ebook ISBN 9780593500095
randomhousebooks.com
Book design by Virginia Norey, adapted for ebook
Damask art: garrykillian/stock.adobe.com
Cover design: Derek Walls
Cover images: © Jeff Cottenden (woman), © galdzer/Getty Images (staircase)
ep_prh_6.3_146464160_c0_r0
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Author's Note
Chapter 1: Hathor
Chapter 2: Hathor
Chapter 3: Hathor
Chapter 4: Wilhelm
Chapter 5: Hathor
Chapter 6: Wilhelm
Chapter 7: Hathor
Chapter 8: Wilhelm
Chapter 9: Hathor
Chapter 10: Hathor
Chapter 11: Hathor
Chapter 12: Wilhelm
Chapter 13: Hathor
Chapter 14: Hathor
Chapter 15: Hathor
Chapter 16: Hathor
Chapter 17: Wilhelm
Chapter 18: Wilhelm
Chapter 19: Hathor
Chapter 20: Wilhelm
Chapter 21: Hathor
Chapter 22: Hathor
Chapter 23: Hathor
Chapter 24: Wilhelm
Chapter 25: Hathor
Chapter 26: Hathor
Chapter 27: Hathor
Chapter 28: Hathor
Chapter 29: Hathor
Chapter 30: Hathor
Epilogue: Hathor
Dedication
Acknowledgments
By J. J. Mcavoy
About the Author
_146464160_
Beloved Reader,
This is a Regency romance involving nobility and high society, in which there are Black people. This is fiction, and anything is possible here. I truly hope you enjoy it.
Sincerely,
Your Author
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.
I did not wish to come across as cruel or petty, but for some reason, I could not muster the emotions they sought from me.
“I am quite happy for Odite, Mama,” I said, setting my pencil down and rising to my feet. It was the truth, though not entirely. “I was only pondering why it has taken so long for her to become pregnant. I thought all one needed was a husband to have a child. Though I am not exactly sure what the process is—”
“I should go tell Silva the news. Come, Mini, let’s find your mama,” Damon quickly cut in, lifting his daughter out of our mother’s arms, kissing both of Minerva’s cheeks, and making the little girl giggle.
“And I am expected by the men to make inspections of the grounds. Hopefully, we will have more than enough to hunt and keep our guests occupied,” my father said, kissing Mother’s cheek first before coming to give me a slight hug. “You must show me your work later, my dear girl. Hopefully, your depiction of me is benevolent since your mother still refuses to tell me where to find the fountain of youth she drinks from.”
“Clearly, your books have given way to gross imagination,” my mother replied, and he offered a wink before quickly going on his way, seeking to escape this conversation, as all men desired to do. I never understood why until last spring, wh
It was so…vulgar that I believed her to be playing some sort of trick on me, but I could not ask or speak of it to anyone else. And the way everyone acted when I even slightly mentioned the topic seemed to prove her words true, for if it was not as uncouth as it seemed, why shy away from speaking on the matter?
“They have fled,” I said, looking at my mother.
“As you intended them to.”
“I merely wished—”
“Hathor, do not think me the fool simply because I do not say what I know,” she stated and stepped up, cupping my cheeks. “Whatever you think you’ve learned from Verity will be further explained by a husband of your very own.”
“Should one ever manifest,” I muttered, stepping out of her grasp, and returning to my easel. “London provided no such person…again. I dare say, I met the very worst men, and now we must try my luck here before the end of the season.”
“By whose fault is that?” She followed after me. “You had three perfectly suitable gentlemen call upon you, all of whom you staunchly rejected. I believed you would grow up and rid yourself of this fanciful idea of becoming a duchess—”
“I have!” Mainly because there were no more dukes to be found in the land; I had checked—twice. And because it had come to my attention, by an unsightly character, that my reputation had taken a slight blow of late. Just thinking of what that horrid person said enraged me once more. To think such awful men lurked about our ton was dreadful.
“Then what was wrong with Lord Galbert?” My mother’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“He is a known entomologist, and I can barely stand the sight of a ladybug.”
“That was no reason to deny him outright. Opposites often find attraction to each other.”
“I have no desire to attract anything or anyone that attracts insects, Mama. I could not even feign the slightest interest and would find myself running from him in terror if one of those creatures was still upon his person.”
“What of Lord Morrison? He was a nice man—”
“He laughed when Father called me a rather proficient artist during dinner.”
“It was nothing more than a nervous chuckle, Hathor.”
“It felt like condescension.” I did not have very many talents as it was, and he seemed completely unimpressed by me.
“And Mr. Bennett? What was his great fault, then? I noticed he took an abundance of interest in your art and complimented you profusely.”
I did not wish to answer as I picked up my canvas.
“Well?”
“Mama, must I say?”
“Say what? You never explained why you all but ran him from our home.”
“He was ugly!”
“Hathor!”
“What? I felt like I was going mad as you all pretended not to notice the horrid condition of his face! The only person who dared say anything was Abena, and you locked her away in her room for it.”
“Hathor, will you seek to find fault in everyone? You give no one a chance, and as such, I fear for your reputation. You will not find all you want in a man.”
“Aphrodite did. Why is it possible for her and not me? Why is she always the fortunate one?”
“Do you not think your sister suffered? Were you not there at her door when she wept? Do you believe these last two years have been easy for her at Everely?”
“Yet it always works out for her somehow, Mother. She always gets what she wants in the end. Meanwhile, I am told to settle for gentlemen she would never have even considered. I know I am not a famed beauty, as she is, or as beloved by the queen or by you, Father, or even Damon as she is, but at the very least, I should measure in a husband.” I muttered the last part looking down at my canvas. I had drawn my father’s nose too big.
“When you speak like this, Hathor, it hurts my heart deeply, for it is utter lies. You know it. You are a great beauty and very well loved by us all.”
I sighed. “I do know it, Mama. I never said I was not beautiful, nor did I say you all did not love me. I—”
“You merely keep comparing yourself to your sister. And it is unfair to you, her, and the rest of us. She is living her life, and you ought to do the same. That starts by measuring suitors not by Aphrodite’s standards but by yours. The most important thing is that they bring comfort to you.”
“I am trying, but they are all…wrong. Lord Galbert, Lord Morrison, and Mr. Bennett stirred nothing in me.”
“Did you even give them a chance? Love does not happen overnight. Like your art, it comes stroke by stroke and never looks perfect until completed. If you give up each time a mere line is drawn, nothing ever comes of it, my dear.”
I sighed, and my shoulders dropped. “I did not think this would be so hard, Mama. I’ve tried so much, but it has been two years since my debut and yet—”
“One of your greatest strengths is your tenacity, so do not let it falter now. Especially when I have worked so hard planning these festivities.”
The London season was almost over. My mother thought a change of scenery and fewer distractions within the city would tilt the odds in my favor. So she had selectively invited the very best of society to be hosted for a weeklong gathering upon our estate, Belclere Castle. It was rare for us to hold such gatherings, as my father believed London was for entertainment and the castle was for rest. Seldomly was anyone welcome but distant relatives and the royal family, though the latter had not been here since my birth.
Nevertheless, the queen had spoken so highly of her stay here that many often sought an invitation. Consequently, not one person had failed to send word of their attendance. Everyone would be here tomorrow. Then I would have a little more than a week to find my husband and return to London triumphantly to conclude the season at the queen’s yearly finale ball, before traveling contentedly into my future on some other grand estate.
“Yes, Mama, your plans are perfect but obvious, so much so that I fear what shall be said if I do not find anyone still.” Part of me was grateful she put such effort in for me, but another part felt embarrassed that the exertion was needed.
“Fears I also share since you are so reluctant to rid yourself of this pitiful disposition,” Mother said as there was a knock at the door. “Enter.”
Ingrid, my mother’s right hand and head housekeeper—whose dark hair seemed to grow grayer with each passing day—entered. “Your Ladyship, a letter from Lady Verity for Lady Hathor has arrived.”
“Oh, good. Since she and Aphrodite managed to wed in the same year, it may also be an announcement of her pregnancy. Let it rain children from on high.” Just when I thought my mood could not be any more sullen. I sat back down as my mother read over the letter, waiting for my torment and carefully examining her face for any hint of what I should ready myself to hear. Her brown eyes looked over the words slowly, giving away nothing before she handed the letter to me.
“Read it for yourself and see how much others care for you since you so clearly need a reminder,” she replied before leaning in and kissing my head. “I shall go check over the lists for our guests. Join me once you finish.”
I nodded, waiting as she and Ingrid stepped out of the study, leaving me staring down at the letter with a date from eight days ago. Inhaling till my chest puffed and then exhaling slowly, I flipped it open and began to read.
June 16, 1815
Dearest Hathor,
I can only imagine the sulk upon you at receiving this message from me, the greatest of all traitors, as you so often proclaim. I am unsure when you shall forgive me for my treacherous act of falling in love, though I commend you on your unwavering ability to hold a grudge. I also thank you for the lovely painting you created of Theodore and me for his birthday. He and I were so incredibly moved by it that it now hangs above the fireplace in our drawing room at Glassden.
