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The first on my list was Aphrodite’s father.
Aphrodite
I paced back and forth in the drawing room, doing my best not to pick at my nails. It was now midday, and he had yet to come.
“You could at least pretend not to be so eager. If not for your own sake, then for my drawing.” Hathor frowned, lifting a horrid sketch she’d created of me.
“Is that supposed to be me? Is your talent not the arts?”
“It would be if you ceased to move about the room like a deranged ghost,” she replied, tearing the paper to start over. “If he comes, he comes. If he does not, you have only yourself to blame for trusting him.”
“Hathor!” I snapped.
“What?” She huffed. “I am wholeheartedly on Father’s side of this war.”
“You do not know his circumstances.”
She turned and faced me. “Then tell me.”
I opened my mouth but then turned away from her. “Where do you wish me to be for this painting?”
“Are we not sisters? Why will you not share with me?”
“Why must I share with you?”
“So I may pick a side with a clear conscience! Mama is in his favor. Papa is not. And Damon seems to be neutral. I must know so I can—”
“Break the tie?” I smiled. “No need, sister, for I have already done so.”
“So, you have accepted him?” she asked.
“Hurry, or I will not sit for your painting—”
“He is here,” Devana said from near the window. She was so quiet that I had all but forgotten she was in the room. “The Duke of Everely is here.”
Both Hathor and I rushed to the window. And sure enough, it was he, dressed in a deep green jacket and cream-colored vest. All of him finely trimmed, and in his hand, a small stack of old books.
“How scheming he is, using books to soften Papa,” Hathor muttered, her face so close to the window she nearly pressed against it.
“The correct word you are seeking is clever,” I shot back, and almost as if he had heard me, he glanced up at the window. I looked away quickly.
Hathor giggled. “Yes, because by doing that, he will surely not think you were staring eagerly.”
“I shall hit you.” I glared at her.
“That is not the behavior of a duchess.” She stuck her tongue out at me and went back to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To see him enter and Father’s expression,” she replied, and I felt the urge to follow, but I stayed, not wishing to expose myself any further. Instead, Devana went to peer out the door along with her.
“He is now inside,” she whispered and glanced back to me once again, smiling. “Now Mama is hugging him!”
“Yes, but Papa’s face is strained,” Hathor added. “I do believe he is not pleased.”
I stood, wringing my hands, and then I sat once more.
“Papa is taking him to his study,” Devana’s gentle voice whispered, but then suddenly, both of them closed the door and turned back, rushing to their places.
