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Simon Middleton wandered into the poor district of London, having just been adminoshed by his mother for longing after Gemma Doyle. She was tired of his sadness, and had promptly told him to find a suitable wife before she did it for him. Embarrassment had driven him from his own club, and he only wished to have some time alone, without thoughts of her muddling his brain or his mother's shrill voice in his ears.
Spotting a filthy looking bar, he pushed his way in, attracting many hateful and curious glances from the slums. Many muttered behind their hands, eyes turned menacingly in his direction. Ignoring their cold stares, he took a seat alone at the bar and asked for the strongest drink that was in stock, recieving a knowing glance from the bartender.
Simon had forgotten that others had had their hearts broken as well.
Looking sluggishly at his surroundings while his drink was being prepared, he spotted a flash of red in the very corner of the room, bringing back painful memories. The glimpse of Gemma was swift and strange, for he could not find her for several minutes.
Telling himself that it was impossible for his Gemma to even come within a mile of this place, he continued to scan the thinning crowd until a waterfall of fiery curls caught his eye, and he stood abruptly, knocking the stool that he had been sitting on to the ground.
There was nobody else with hair like that.
Nobody else possessed those fleeting green eyes that had captured his heart.
The bartender approached with his drink, followins his gaze curiously to the beautiful girl standing at the back of the club. She wore simple clothes, probably 'borrowed' from an unsuspecting maid. Why would pure, wonderful Gemma be in such a place?
Simon nearly choked on his drink as he saw the Indian that she was standing dangerously close to. He spluttered into the somewhat clean cup, looking at the scene in amazment.
"Yep. The things you'll see down in 'ere, eh?" The plump man spoke carelessly, unaware of the scandal that this could cause. He returned to polishing glasses, taking Simon's without a word to refill as he swallowed the glass down, wishing that he could wash away what he was seeing with alchohol.
Gemma leaned in close to the heathen, who he could not make out clearly. He stared in bewilderment as their lips met, and could not find the strength to pull his eyes away even as they deepened the kiss, groping at eachother shamelessly.
Suddenly a blinding rage leapt from Simon's stomach, mixed with emvy and bitterness. He could not digest the fact that Gemma Doyle had refused him, the most wanted suitor in London, all for an Indian.
She touched him passion, and Simon wished furiously that he was the one holding her in his arms, pressing her up against the wall and ravaging her neck with his lips.
How could she do such unspeakable things in the plain view of others? Then again, he realized, who here would know her wealthy family and their reputation, let alone know how to find them or why they should bother to inform anybody about this? Unable to watch any longer, he turn away and picked up the stool, sitting down in a trance. He could feel a monster uncoiling insided him, one that had been born the day that the cold, unfeeling letter carrying Gemma's refusal had arrived.
The alchohol only fed it, egged his dark side on wildly. The night wore on and Simon continued to down drinks while sneaking glances at the couple. People flooded out of the bar more and more quickly as they rushed to get out and back to their unknowing families.
His vision grew fuzzy, and the bartender stopping trying to hear his orders through the slur that marred his speech; he simply opted to pick a different drink every time.
Finally, the two broke apart, Gemma looking regretful as she explained to the Indian that she needed to get home. He too looked saddened, and tried to follow her out of the bar protectively, but she stopped him, no doubt afraid of being seen with him. Simon prowled while she convinced him to leave first, and he relucantly sauntered out, leaving Gemma as one of the last tenants in the bar.
She glanced around hastily, giving the bartender an endearing smile that he returned, though the effect wasn't nearly the same seeing as his teeth were blackened and crooked. She started to leave, then spun on her heel and walked quickly to the bar, tossing the man a shilling. He smiled wider and bowed his head, deciding not to mention the gentleman watching her in the corner.
Simon had slunk away as she approached, eager not to be seen. As she hurried out the door, he returned to his stool and pondered the night's events. Briefly he had the urge to confront Gemma, but a more sinister and menacing plan formed in his mind.
Gemma would be involved in more of a scandal than she could imagine.
Okay, nothing naughty in this chapter, but the next should contain some M rated worthy content. Please review!