Secrets of Surrender

Chapter One Roselyn Longworth contemplated her damnation. Hell was not fire and brimstone, she realized. It consisted of merciless self-awareness. You learned the truth about yourself in hell. You faced the lies that you had told your soul in order to justify doing the wrong thing. Hell was also eternal humiliation, such as she was suffering at this country house party. All around her Lord Norbury's other guests laughed and played while they awaited the call to dinner. Upon arriving yesterday in Lord Norbury's coach, she had discovered that the guest list was not what she expected. The men were all members of polite society, but the women A loud screech interrupted her thoughts. A woman in a garish sapphire dinner dress playfully fought with a man who had grabbed her. The other men shouted encouragement to the fellow. Even Norbury urged him on. After a display of mock resistance, his captive surrendered to the kind of embrace and kiss that no one else should see. Roselyn surveyed the painted faces and extreme attire of the other women. The men had not brought their wives with them. They had not even brought their refined mistresses. These women were common prostitutes imported from London's brothels. She suspected a few could not even claim that pedigree. And here she sat among them. She could not hide from the stark implications. The other men had brought their whores, and Lord Norbury had brought his. How could she have misunderstood the events of the last month so badly? She tried to put her mind back to the day of Lord Norbury's first flatteries and overtures, but the memory was gone now, burned to ashes by the ruthless fire of reality during the last twenty-four hours. The lover in question strolled among his guests, coming toward her. With each step the lights in his eyes brightened a bit more. She had thought those were the flames of love and passion. She now saw them as reflections off ice. She had been pathetically stupid. "You are very quiet, Rose. You have been all day." He sidled closely, looming beside her chair. A day ago she would have welcomed his closeness and found his attention romantic. Stupid, stupid woman. "I begged you to allow me to leave. I am in this drawing room only because you demanded that I come down for dinner, so do not complain that I do not engage in your party's games. I do not care for the company or the free behavior being shown." Over in the corner the embracing couple were lost to the world, but the world could watch their groping all the same. "My, you are proud. Far more proud than you should be." His mutter carried a cruel edge. Her nape prickled. He alluded to more than her disapproval of his house party. She had refused him things last night. She had not even understood what he wanted at first, and had not hidden her shock when he explained. In the span of minutes the affectionate and generous lover had become the angry and spurned patron. Cold. Hard. Mean. He transformed into a man who had paid more than he ought for a possession, only to discover that he had been defrauded. Her face warmed at the memory of the sordid scene in her bedchamber before he left. She had thought she was his beloved, his paramour. He had made it clear that he considered her a common whore. His scathing words had been so many slaps, wakening her from an illusion created out of her own hopelessness and loneliness. "If I am too proud, call for the carriage and allow me to leave. Show the kindness of permitting me to retain what little of that pride remains." "I would be alone without female company then. I will look a fool in my own home." "We will say I became ill. We will say" His hand came to rest on her shoulder, silencing her. He grasped firmly,Hunter, Madeline is the author of 'Secrets of Surrender', published 2008 under ISBN 9780440243953 and ISBN 0440243955.