navessaallen.com
Scandal: Chapter Seventeen - navessa allen
I know a secret about your husband, the notes read. I had scant time to contemplate them. Anyone here to mark my reaction would notice a prolonged absence. The letter went back into its envelope and then again into my reticule, the ties of which I knotted to protect the contents. My feet carried me swiftly to the mirror, where I used my reflection to guide me as I forced the trapped look from my eyes and then carved my features into a mask so strong, it could have been sculpted from marble. I quickly retreated behind its safety, hiding my true self, burying my emotions deep. You can do this, I told myself as I left the room and took the stairs down to the first floor, where laughter and conversation and the tinkling of fine china drifted up from. Only an hour remained of the reception. One hour. What was that to me? How could sixty minutes of internal torture compare to the years of its physical counterpart I had already endured? This is nothing, I told myself, over and over again, until it became nothing. Until I managed to convince myself that it was easy to smile. …