An heiress to one of Britain's most impressive fortunes, Cordelia Gardiner has always done what her strict father expects her to, manage the estate, host dinners, mind her manners. After years of adhering to his demanding expectations, however, Cord...
The men were moving closer to her, and she gulped when she realized there were no friendly faces to be seen in the room. She was roughly bumped from her side by a group of men shoving themselves to get closer to her, and her suitcase fell from her hand onto the floor, its contents spilling out. Cordelia grimaced as she tried not to imagine the delicate clothes being stomped into the sticky floor of the pub. "Look at these!" One man exclaimed, picking up her brassiere, "I imagine you look a picture wearing just this," he joked, earning a chuckle from his friends.
A tear fell down Cordelia's cheek and she tried her best to smudge it away before any of the men saw, but it was too late. "Aw love, are you crying?" He asked, feigning a sympathetic tone and pout in her face.
"Give that back," she said, as strongly as she could. She surprised herself with how weak she sounded. "Please," she added, feeling completely hopeless. The clothes in her suitcase were thrown around, and the only thing she could be grateful for was that they hadn't found her jewelry case yet. Her pleas were met only with laughs from the men around her, and she was trying desperately to collect her belongings from them as best she could.
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The sooner she could get out of the pub and find Charles, the better, she thought, though that was easier said than done. She was becoming flustered, and the more aggravated and distressed she appeared to these men around her, the more cheerful and antagonizing they became. She began to feel dizzy from running around the crowd in circles, and the already warm pub became sweltering as she began to feel there was no air. Though Cordelia considered herself a tough person, she felt helpless, like when Malcolm had attacked her on the veranda.
She had never fainted before, but she could feel a light-headedness coming on, and apparently, the men did too, for one of them added: "look at that, she's gonna faint!" She began to sway, and before she closed her eyes, she saw a familiar face step out from behind the door to the restroom, running in her direction.
"Gentlemen," the face seemed to shout, "I'll have you leave my companion alone at once," he hissed, with more authority than Cordelia had ever heard him speak with before. Charles' warm, brown eyes were the last thing she saw.
"Cordelia? Cordelia?" Her face was against something hard and cold, and when she went to pick her head up off of it, her cheek was slightly stuck to the surface. She winced as she sat up, and blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Upon seeing her waking up, Charles' tense brow softened, and he greeted her with a smile. "Oh thank goodness," he said, removing the cool rag he had apparently been holding to her brow, setting it on the table she had just been passed out against.
"What happened?" She mumbled, looking around. The bar was a lot emptier now, and opposed to before, the men around them were quietly sipping their drinks, paying them no mind.
"You fainted, Cordelia, on the...floor," he said, looking to the grimy floor with a scowl.
"Wait, where's my luggage?" She said, sitting up straight and looking around for her clothes and suitcase frantically.
"Relax, relax," he said, placing a hand over hers. She tried to ignore the tingling feeling that crept up her arm when he did so. "I collected your clothes that these men had taken out and put them back in your case, though I'm afraid as you so aptly noticed earlier, my folding skills aren't entirely up to par," he said with a smile. This earned a giggle from Cordelia and a nod of thank you for what he did.
"Thank you for taking care of me, I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she said, shaking her head with dismay as she looked around at where they were.
"Here, have some water," he said, moving a clear glass towards her. She put out her hand and shoved the water away.
"What do you have that's stronger?" She questioned, earning a cocked eyebrow from Charles.
He returned with two glasses of scotch, and set hers down in front of her. She went in to take a sip, but he held up a finger. "Before you drink, I want to know why you're here. Why did you come looking for me? What happened with your mother?" He asked, concern all over his face.
"If I'm going to tell you," she started, "we drink first."
