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...
Night had fallen, and to Cordelia's surprise, the ever-busy streets of London hadn't calmed one bit. From behind the lush velvet curtained windows of Lord Elderwood's townhouse, horns of streetcars blared, passerby's shouted through the streets, and vendors pleaded with pedestrians to have an interest in their wares. Cordelia sighed and took a sip of her wine, looking out onto those streets and wondering what her mother was doing at this hour.
She had told Charles that she needed to retire early, and thankfully he understood. He and Lord Elderwood were in the parlor, smoking and drinking. Discussing, Cordelia imagined, the things that all such men did; horses, politics, et cetera. She took another sip of her wine and rested her head back on her chair, willing the thoughts circling around her head to quiet down so that she may, for the first time today, have some peace.
"So am I going to have to make you tell me what's going on with the woman you've brought to my home or will I have to surmise it myself?" Elderwood asked, topping off his friend's drink and meeting him with a mischievous grin.
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"I'll have to have a few drinks in me first before your subtlety-or lack, thereof-forces me to forget to hold my tongue," Charles said. He clapped his friend on the back while chuckling to himself. Elderwood wouldn't let him off so easily, however.
"Charles, we go back a long time, and never have I seen you like this with anyone before. What's gotten into you? Have you finally realized that women are far more fascinating than the beloved books that you hold so dear?" Charles rolled his eyes. He's known Franklin Elderwood since the two were in school together, when Elderwood would bribe Charles to do his homework for him in exchange for books snuck in from the previous Lord Elderwood's exquisite library.
"Cordelia is a friend, Franklin, that is all." With this, a frown formed on Elderwood's face, and he shook his head, dislodging several curly locks that had been tucked behind his ears. He was giving Charles one of those famous looks of his, the face he used to make when he had to convince Charles to do his homework for the millionth time. "Fine, I'll tell you. But the things I say are never to leave this room." Elderwood nodded adamantly, but Charles knew it was all a charade-he was a terrible gossip.
Cordelia snapped the book she had been flipping through shut, and was on her way upstairs for bed when she realized she'd left her handkerchief in the parlor before she had retired and left the men to their devices. She considered going back up and fetching it in the morning, but she had a good feeling she wasn't entirely through with crying for the day, though she imagined that if she really tried at it, she could manage just getting out a light sniffle before the day is done. She didn't want to interrupt the men, and she was just about to lightly knock on the door when she heard Charles begin to speak.
"When I first met her, I tried so badly to ignore what I'd felt. My family was visiting hers in hopes that she and Malcolm would hit it off." He had stood up now, unable to express his feelings to Elderwood from his earlier seated position.
