Heartbreaks Books

“I am going to the ball now, Lord Martin. Doubtless my dance card will be full. Do you still wish to reserve a spot?"
So much for not being foolish. She should have just let him forget, which he surely would have done as soon as he saw all the other women in the ballroom.
He crossed his wrists over the newel post at the top and leaned upon it. "Yes, I would like to reserve a spot. If I may have first choice, I'll take the last dance please."
"Well, you had best hope I don't grow tired and leave early."
He replied with smooth confidence. "You won't."
She pursed her lips. "Don't be so sure."
"How can I not be?" he replied. "Because I think you enjoy a good party, Mrs. Wheaton. More than you let on. Or maybe you don't even know it yet. Maybe you've never experienced a night that was truly exhilarating."
He was gazing down at her with presumptuous assistance, as if he knew exactly what she was about, and it shook her inwardly, because curse him, he was right. She had experienced very little excitement in her life because she had witnessed the consequences of women who loved exciting men. She'd seen her mother's broken heart over her father's many disgraces with other women, and Penelope's heartbreak over Martin and others after him.
Most importantly, she knew about rejection. She had been living with it all her life, since as early as she could remember, beginning with the most painful rejection of all- her father's. And later, her husband's. She knew how much it hurt and had learned to avoid it by never seeking attention. Instead, she was deliberately unapproachable. Her mask of contempt was her shield.”
― Julianne MacLean, Surrender to a Scoundrel