My Surrender

Chapter 1 Culholland Square, MayfairJuly 14, 1806 "La, Mr. Fox, if your eyes occasionally strayed above my neckline you might find it easier to guess what I am miming during the game," Charlotte said archly. The redheaded young man, heir to a merchant's vast fortune and as of last Wednesday owning a suspiciously acquired baronetcy, colored violently.Charlotte took no pity. The bran-faced upstart had been staring at her bosom since he'd arrived in the company of the young people she'd invited to her town house for games and refreshments -- her first "at home" since she had taken possession of the fashionable Mayfair address, a scandalous move since she intended to live as a spinster. Alone.As Lady Welton was chaperoning the occasion, it was all perfectly respectable -- even though the baroness had fallen asleep in a patch of sunlight hours before. At least, Charlotte amended with a nod to her conscience, it wassupposedto have been respectable. But then nothing she ever did seemed to turn out quite as respectably as her lineage, lofty associations (she was, after all, the sister-in-law of Ramsey Munro, marquis of Cottrell, as well as the renowned Colonel Christian MacNeill) and delightful manners would suggest.And that, Charlotte fully appreciated, was a great deal of her appeal. Within Charlotte's charmed circle, things could be said that one daren't utter elsewhere, a few steps of the notorious waltz might be demonstrated, the ladies' gowns were more fashionable and less substantial, laughter came more freely, and the verbal ripostes that most unmarried young girls didn't dare serve their potential suitors Charlotte doled out regularly to hers. Thus, Charlotte's set-down of the goggle-eyed Mr. Robinson brokered as many giggles among the females as guffaws from the males."Sorry. Don't know what I was thinkin'," Mr. Robinson sputtered."I don't thinkthoughtentered much into it, do you?" Charlotte asked sweetly, giving rise to another round of scandalized laughter. "Come, my friend, let us practice looking at a lady's face...no, no, no! Not my lips -- the whole of my face. See? Two brows, a pair of oddly colored eyes, an inconsequential nose, a rather too decisive chin. Ah! There. Bravo!"The young ladies and gentlemen, acknowledged by all to be by far the fastest set of unmarried young people in the ton, clapped appreciatively and Mr. Robinson, as determined to be one of them as he was to charm Miss Nash, found the self-confidence to laugh at himself, bowing in turn to her and the rest of the company.The byplay ended, her guests began taking turns at charades again and Charlotte, realizing that the punch bowl was growing woefully low, popped out into the corridor to find a maid. She had gotten no further than the kitchen door when a masculine voice hailed her in breathless tones.Knowing all too well what would follow, she turned around. But it was not Mr. Robinson. It was Lord LeFoy. Tall, sandy-haired Lord LeFoy. Well, here was a surprise. She'd thought he had all but offered for the Henley girl."Miss Nash," he breathed, coming toward her with his hands outstretched. She waited politely. His hands, finding none waiting to secure, fell to his sides."Yes?""I must have a moment of your time.""Yes.""Alone."She glanced tellingly around the short corridor. "Yes."He frowned. Apparently this was not going as he'd hoped. Poor Lord LeFoy. Things seldom did where she and gentlemen were concerned. At least, for the gentlemen."You had something you wished to impart of a private nature?" she prompted."Yes," he said, nodding eagerly. "Yes. I...I...""Yes?""I adore you!""Ah."He reached down and grabbed one of her hands, snatching it to his lips and pressing an ardent kiss to the gloved surface. "I am your slave. Ask me anything, anything, and I shall do it. I am yours to command. I worsBrockway, Connie is the author of 'My Surrender', published 2005 under ISBN 9780743463249 and ISBN 0743463242.