Rules of Submission

The sunlight that broke through the leaded glass windows of Blackwood Hall the following morning was pale, cool, and distinctly British. Vivienne sat at the small mahogany writing desk in her bedroom, dressed in a soft charcoal cashmere turtleneck sweater and dark wool trousers that Mrs. Gable had laid out for her at dawn. On a silver breakfast tray rested a pot of Earl Grey tea, a plate of warm…