Scheduling this one far in advance, because I’m flying home from Chicago and the Spring Fling conference today. So if, by chance, there’s some kind of glitch, you’ll know what happened. This is a random six sentences my brain conjured while I was waking up the other morning. Somehow I managed to retain them and wrote them down. I don’t know if they’ll actually fit anywhere.
As Isabelle Marshall, she had known dandies, men who spent hours deciding which topcoat went with which pantaloons, men who drove their valets to distraction until their cravats were tied just so. Narcissists. Men whose best friend was the mirror. Men who were just as shallow and flat as that best friend.
Something about Upperton struck her as different. With him, the emphasis on appearance was mere façade.