The Prince’s Bride – Part 2 (The Prince’s Bride #2) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Prince's Bride Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
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I did not understand her worry. “Her sister has received her portion of the inheritance. Odette’s portion is there and waiting for her as well.”

When she met my eyes, I saw the pain in them. “Gale, forgive me if I no longer trust that things will go as planned. In the last few years, nothing has gone as we had planned, not your father, not your brother.”

“I apologize, Mother,” I said, taking her hands and squeezing. “You’re right, we can never be certain in this life, and I will check and double-check to make sure everything is in order.”

She nodded, her lips tight as she patted my hand. “Let us hope we have more good days coming from here on out. Now, we must also get the people behind her. The only way to do that is to get her out more in front of them.”

“She just arrived. Maybe—”

“This is not a time for you two to hide away. You must be public, blatant, pretend as if you do not hear or see anything negative or positive, for that matter. We exist as we have always existed, above it all. I will do my best to plan small events, for now, that will show her skills and talents.”

“Mother, she is not a horse for a pony show—”

“Was it not you who said we are the circus, and our duty is to entertain? Well, she has joined the circus. And that is that. I shall have a list of events you must both go to in time.”

This was the reason why the queen was the most powerful piece in chess. There was no stopping her.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” Adam Balduin, the secretary of the Adelaar, first for my brother and now for me, spoke as he entered the room. He was a short man in his late forties with dark hair, who wore small, circular-framed eyeglasses. “The prime minister wishes to see you both immediately.”

My mother sighed and let go of my hand, the annoyance clear across her face. “And as I tried to hope, so came the doomsayer.”

I snickered. That was a perfect nickname for the prime minister.

“Do you wish to go to the stateroom?” I asked, rising from my chair.

“We have already had our weekly meeting. He is coming without an appointment, so the study will have to suffice,” she stated and then looked back to Balduin. “Have him wait a moment. Also, have Julianna call for tea, oh, and my gloves.”

As the maids came in to help my mother prepare, I could not help but try to think of a way to escape. The prime minister was the last man in this country that I wanted to see now or ever for that matter.

Noble bastards were insufferable.

It was a horrible thing to say, as such, and I would never admit it aloud, but it was how I felt. I never met one that was not a complete and utter pompous ass, overcompensating for their lack of title and station by screaming at the world. Ivan S. Hermenegild was a noble bastard. The illegitimate son of the late Earl of Esterbarrow, and at thirty-seven, the youngest man ever elected Prime Minister of Ersovia.

“Explain to me how this man won again?” I muttered to my mother as she adjusted her gloves.

“He is young, handsome, and—”

“Massively egoistical as well as tediously bothersome. Also, he is at best decent looking. He is only called handsome because he is surrounded by pudgy old men in parliament all day.”

“No, I will give him that one. He is fine looking—then again, the late Earl of Esterbarrow was also fine looking.”

I rolled my eyes. “Handsome. Not handsome. It is irrelevant. The fact is that he is an idiot masquerading as an intellectual, preaching that the sky is always falling. Ersovia is always on the brink of some disaster that only he can save us from. Never in my life have I ever wished I could vote as badly as I did in the last election.”

She stood, smoothing her dress, and glanced at me. “Have you gotten all your displeasure out now?”

“If only I could. Everyone in this palace except us can vote.” I frowned, taking a step behind her. “I wonder how many of our own people voted for him.”

“We are not supposed to wonder that.”

“Yes, I know. He is the people’s choice, and therefore, I must respect him even if I dislike it. And I very much dislike it.”

“Sometimes, you are almost exactly like your father, and I do not know if it is comforting or terrifying.” She snickered before grabbing her bell and ringing it.

Immediately, the butler stepped inside and bowed his head before proclaiming, “Prime Minister Hermenegild.”

The tall, blond-haired, square-jawed man stepped inside, wearing a pinstriped suit and holding a cane, even though the man had no problem with his legs, nor was this an event that called for it. He placed his hand over his heart, bowing to us both.


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