Charlotte shook her head vigorously when the blond-haired man, Cameron, suggested that it might be his fault that she had gotten hurt. "No, not at all!" she was quick to protest. "It's just that... I'm always this clumsy..." This was no secret; anyone who knew Charlotte long enough found this out on their own. But Charlotte felt a little embarrassed admitting it to a stranger, and she looked down at the floor to hide her blush, her lace gloved-fingers clasping and unclasping in her awkwardness. "It's a pleasure to meet you, anyway, Cameron!" she added, hoping to steer the conversation away from the embarrassing topic.<br/><br/>And then her eyes widened at Cameron's next revelation. A brothel? Yes, Charlotte had heard the word before, but had always imagined gaudy hangings in a shabby building, with women in too much rogue and perfume standing at the doorways waiting to welcome despicable men in their whiny, high-pitched voices. How could this classy establishment compare with that mental image. And besides... "Don't brothels only employ women?" she asked without pausing to think. And come to think of it, why would Charles, her loving brother, send her to a brothel? Something wasn't quite adding up for Charlotte here. She wondered if Ruby, or whatever her name was, had more answers. "Yes, my ankle is much better, thanks to your gentle ministrations," she said, making an effort to smile at her savior, despite her confusion. "I am sorry to have imposed on you. Please lead the way!"