Lady Theodora has always known her path in life. As her grandmother's heir to the dukedom of Shefolk, becoming the perfect duchess is her primary goal. Her life is peaceful and her juvenile fantasies are fulfilled by travelling cousins whilst she de...
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The newspaper was slammed onto the table in front of me just as I reached for the pot of tea. Mahogany shook with the force of the hit and cutlery clattered noisily. Three sceptical gazes landed on me as my fuming father leaned over my shoulder, his breath smelling of the very tea he hindered me from accessing. He stepped back slightly, crossing his arms as he took on an intimidating stance. I sighed inwardly, barely glimpsing at the new article published by Stavnews. The daily newspaper was becoming a real nuisance for me, especially when their frivolous articles interrupted my breakfast.
Leaning back in my chair, I muttered, "And you all wonder why I refuse to have breakfast with you." A snort sounded from my left and I quirked a brow at my younger brother; who was evidently suppressing laughter behind the buttered croissant in his hand. "Yes, Eric, laugh at me. I'll keep that in mind the next time you beg me to sit at this table because you cannot stand the stale atmosphere that accompanies this family."
He immediately stopped laughing and my youngest brother, Henrik, chimed in with an offended, "You said that?" as his forkful of scrambled eggs dropped back to his plate. Having inherited our mother's pale skin, his outrage was apparent by the red flush consuming his face and long neck.
"I was laughing with you, not at you, you bloody dick!"
"Language, Eryxon!" my mother scolded, her dark eyes barely managing to restrain all that irritation. I glimpsed at her from the corner of my eye, realising for the first time that she was wearing a tiara; an elegantly crafted headpiece made from pure gold. The diamonds twinkled nearly in sync with the twitching vein in her forehead. The fact that she was wearing her tiara meant there'd be a public appearance and the thought made me nauseous.
Ignoring her, I turned my attention back to Eric. "Laughing with me would require me to be laughing in the first place. Do I look amused to you?"
His blue eyes, prominent against his tanned skin, narrowed in aggravation. "Amused wouldn't be a word I'd associate with you, brother."
Scoffing, I retorted, "Well, on the rare occasion that something does amuse me, at least that something isn't fucking the maids—"
"Alexavier Atherbourne!" my mother practically shrieked, pushing to her feet and causing her chair to go toppling back. A footman hastily leapt forward to right the chair before returning to his rigid position at one of the numerous windows of the private dining room. Henrik choked on his egg, warily glancing between my bored expression and Eric's outraged one. The latter was practically trembling with fury but wouldn't meet my eyes. I took that as a win. My mother cleared her throat, belatedly thanking the footman before gracefully dropping into her seat.
For the first time since entering the dining room, my father spoke, his voice brittle with a mixture of disappointment and irritation. "Is this what the royal family of Stavros has become?"
The question was obviously rhetorical, yet I responded anyway. "Perhaps we'd have turned out differently if you'd actually played a role in our upbringing." Eric turned to me with a lifted brow, surprised at the fact that I'd willingly add fuel to fire.
