September 1920

"He isn't right for you." Cal's voice was low; his tone was cordial, even friendly, but Rose stiffened anyway. She stared straight ahead, pretending to be too absorbed in the setting sun to hear him. What gave him the right to follow her outside? To speak to her at all? It was only by chance that they found themselves in the same place again. Had she known he would be there, she would never have come. Had she known Michael was his cousin, she probably would never have spoken to him, let alone have accepted the dinner invitation which, six months later, led to an invitation to spend a week at his family's house in the country. Of course, house was an inadequate term for it. Rose had seen her share of palatial estates, but this one dwarfed them all. Now, she understood why.

She hadn't been there an hour when she saw him. Cal. Just standing across the room, a drink in his hand. Astonishment shone in his eyes, but he didn't let it spread to his features. To his credit, he hadn't said anything about having met her before. It was clear the two branches of the family rarely spoke. Michael's laugh and explanation that he belonged to "the poor side" only made her more uncomfortable. Of course she would find someone who would lead her back to Cal, the last person she ever wanted to see. She'd done so well at surviving on her own; why shouldn't her old life come back to haunt her?

Cal watched her with a bemused expression. Her hair was longer. Her clothes simpler, though still well-cut. She wore no jewelry. There was a solidity about her that hadn't been there before. Her posture had always been good, but now she looked directly into the eyes of everyone she spoke to. Her voice was clear and confident. She spoke without any fear of reproach. Cal found himself intrigued by her. Where had she been? What had she done since that night? Clearly, her life hadn't gone as terribly as he'd expected. When she spoke at dinner, alternating between sincerity and sarcasm, his original interest in her had begun to revive. Rose had always been a fascinating creature, even if he felt it necessary to curb those behaviors that attracted him to her.

"You can't possibly be happy with him," he said. "Cousin Michael is as dull as a missionary, although he's twice as good." He made being good sound distasteful.

"I don't see what interest you can have in our relationship," she said coolly. "But since you're so persistent, I'll just say I don't find him dull at all. He's very intelligent, and he's certainly a more interesting companion than you ever were."

Cal laughed. Rose's mouth thinned into a frown. "It's extraordinary how much I've missed these little tirades of yours," he said. "No-one manages to insult me quite the way you can. But I suppose no-one else wants to."

"Oh, I'm sure many other want to," she replied sweetly. "I just happen to not be afraid of you, even after everything you've done."

"I wondered when we'd get to that," he said. "Well, go on. If you want to say something, say it. You've been holding it in since yesterday. I saw it in your face when you walked in."

"Don't presume to tell me what I want to say or how I feel," Rose said sharply. "Don't presume to know anything about me. You never did. You didn't even know the girl I was eight years ago. But if you're so eager to hear what I think of you, then I'll tell you. I don't think anything. You may as well not even be here, and as for what happened before—" She faltered but quickly recovered. "My feelings were made clear then, as were yours. I know you have only the veneer of a civilized person, but do try and find the strength not to speak to me again." Rose turned on her heel and walked away, not a little pleased with herself.

Cal watched her go, his indignation mixing with amusement. He had asked for it, hadn't he? He smiled. Perhaps this wouldn't be the dull week he had anticipated, after all.

…

Michael's eyes lit up when he saw her. "There you are," he said. Rose managed a smile as he moved toward her. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine, just a little tired."

"Yeah, well, my family can be tiring," he said. "I should've warned you. I didn't expect so many of my cousins to be here. I was told it would be just the two of us and Edith, but apparently, Diana was dying to come up here, so the others came with her."

Rose only vaguely knew Cal's cousins. She had been introduced to most of them during their engagement, but none of them seemed to remember her, for which she was grateful. Of course, she looked different now. She had to. Eight years of freedom had done wonders for her, at least, as far as she could see. She couldn't help feeling slightly superior. They lived in their safe, pretty bubble, while she was out in the world, taking risks and chasing adventures. Not one of them knew what it was like to struggle for a place to sleep or something to eat, except perhaps Michael and Edith. They didn't know the satisfaction of earning the money in their pockets. Had she really once lived among them? It seemed so long ago, even longer than eight years.

"I don't mind them," she said. "They're a bit dull, but that can't be helped."

"Maybe we can teach them something about having fun," Michael suggested. "Liven them uo a bit?" He kissed her forehead. "If anyone can, it's you."

Michael's eyes were green; his hair was a soft, dark brown. He smiled easily. Rose was never uncomfortable with him. He never expected her to be anything but herself. "You flatter me," she said.

"No, I don't. I never flatter anyone."

It was true. He didn't. Michael always told the truth. It was one of the things she loved most about him. She never had to worry that he was trying to manipulate her or that he was creating schemes to get what he wanted. That wasn't in his nature. He did everything with the same deliberate patience. Sometimes, he reminded her of Jack, but she preferred when she didn't. The moments when he was like Jack only emphasized the face that he wasn't him. She tried her best not to compare them. It wasn't fair to any of them. No-one could stand up against Jack's memory, and she wanted to love someone again. It wasn't a betrayal to leave Jack where he was, safely nestled in her heart. He'd wanted her to go on.

"What do you say to a walk?" Michael asked.

"Sure," she answered. She took the arm he offered.

…..

"No-one told me they were coming," Diana grumbled, refilling her glass. "Had I known, I would have stayed home." She was a tall, imposing woman with dark green eyes and jet black hair, which she wore in a close-cut bob.

"Oh, our cousins aren't so bad," Frank said. His own hair was the same black, but his eyes were brown. There were laugh lines around the corners of his mouth. At thirty-three, he was the second oldest in the circle of cousins. Diana, his sister, was twenty-nine. Sophia, his other sister, who sat next to him on the sofa, was twenty-seven, and the youngest in the circle. Over the years, Frank had often envied Cal his status as an only child.

"You're just in love with Edith," Diana sniffed. Frank ignored her.

"Don't be quarrelsome," Sophia said. "Diana, you know we can't bear these little fits of yours."

"Fits?" Diana said indignantly. "When have I ever had a fit?"

"Every time you drink," Cal said, as he strolled into the room. Sophia laughed. Frank smiled but kept his eyes on his newspaper.

Diana frowned. "Caledon," she said with exaggerated cheerfulness. "How good of you to join us."

"As if I had somewhere else to be," Cal said.

"Speaking of somewhere else, where are the others?" Sophia asked. "I haven't seen any of them since dinner."

"Michael and that girl he brought are out walking," Frank said. "Edith is upstairs."

"Yes, you would know where Edith is," Diana said drily. "You do remember she's your cousin, don't you?"

"Be quiet, Diana," Cal said. As not only the eldest, but also the son of the more powerful Hockley brother, he was deferred to in all things. Diana scowled in response.

"What is that girl?" Sophia said. "Where did he find her?"

Cal couldn't help being amused. So, they didn't recognize Rose. Were their memories that short, or had she changed more than he'd realized? He would have recognized her anywhere. That hair alone was enough to do it. He leaned forward as Frank said, "They met at the law library. She helped him find some books."

"So, she's a librarian?" Sophia said. "How quaint."

"And an actress. Among other things," Frank reported. "I believe "adventurer" is the word Michael used. According to Edith, he's quite taken with her."

"Well, he's never invited anyone up here before," Sophia pointed out. "She seems like a nice enough girl, certainly good enough for him."

"I think she's odd," Diana said, casting a defiant look at Cal. "Have you heard some of the things she says? And that hair?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"What's wrong with her hair?" Cal asked, keeping his tone light. It had always been one of his favorite things about her. She never let him touch it, although he'd often wanted to. Sometimes, he'd gotten close enough to smell it, but never for very long. Rose was always moving away from him; she was always trying to avoid his touch, even in the early days of their relationship. He hadn't given it much thought at the time. She was young, he'd told himself. Modest. A lady. Everything he had been told to look for in a wife. Once they were married—But they never made it that far. She finally escaped his grasp completely. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her?

"She should do something with it," Diana said. "Who does she think she is with all of those unruly curls? Mary Pickford?"

"Don't be so jealous," Cal said, emptying his glass. "It doesn't suit you."

…..

They met at the top of the stairs. Rose lifted her chin. Cal studied her. Diana was right. She did have Pickford hair. "What?" she said.

"Nothing. I'm just on my way to breakfast. I assume my eating doesn't offend you?"

"I suppose you must," she said.

"But you'd rather I didn't."

"You don't know what I'd rather," she said. She sighed as he fell into step beside her. "Can't you leave me alone?"

"I wasn't aware of being any attention to you," he said. "Should I go around to the other side of the house just to avoid walking to the dining room the same way you do? And you've been going out of your way to avoid me, so I doubt the next minute will hurt you."

"And you've been going out of your way to find me. Why?" she demanded. "Do you find it amusing to torment me?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"That you enjoy tormenting me, or that you keep following me?"

"I don't enjoy tormenting you," he said. His eyes were serious. "And our meeting is pure coincidence. I'm not planning it. Do you think I like seeing you?"

"You like seeing me unhappy," she muttered. "You've done more than enough to make that happen."

"Must we go over this again?"

"We never actually finished going over it," she said.

"Last night I told you to say whatever you wanted to," he reminded her. "But you obviously have more to say. So, go ahead."

His calm infuriated her. "How can you act as if nothing happened?" she asked.

"It's been eight years. I've dealt with my anger. You weren't even real to me anymore until I saw you again."

"Oh, did you manage to kill whoever happened to be too close to you when you were 'dealing with your anger'?" she said sarcastically. "I know how much you enjoy violence."

There it was. There was the quality that had attracted him to her. In a world of people who couldn't say yes fast enough, Rose was always saying no to him. Nothing he did pleased her; nothing impressed her. He could snap his fingers and get a dozen women, all just as beautiful as she, into bed, but nothing short of force would have gotten Rose there. At least half the single women in their circle had wanted to marry him, but not her. No compliment, no gift, no gesture of affection could even bring a genuine smile to her face. He put more effort and money into pursuing her than into the pursuit of any woman, before or since. "No, unfortunately not," he said. "They evaded me."

Rose stared at him for a moment before she realized he was joking. "You have a bizarre sense of humor," she said.

"Really? I didn't know you thought I had any sense of humor."

"I didn't, at least, not one worth indulging." She started to go past him into the dining room. He laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. "Rose," he said.

Her gaze was icy. "Don't touch me, Mr. Hockley."

…..

After breakfast, Rose and Michael wandered out to the garden. Nothing was in bloom anymore, but the leaves were just beginning to turn. The house was surrounded by woods. Stately trees formed its borders. There were three different gardens and a lake. Rose thought the estate was beautiful in spite of its owners. Someone had clearly put a lot of thought into it. The plants and flowers had been chosen with care. There was a small orchard. The trees overflowed with apples. A crew had been sent to pick them.

Michael casually reached over and took her hand. "Do you like it here?" he asked.

"It's lovely. It was kind of you to invite me," she said. She hated how stiff she sounded. It was Cal's fault. He had put her on edge. She'd felt him staring at her during breakfast, daring her to speak. Why won't he just leave me alone? She could always leave early, but that would involve some kind of explanation to Michael.

"I've wanted to bring you up here for a while," he said. "Rose, there's something I want to talk to you about."

Her heart began to beat faster. No, he couldn't be. He wasn't going to ask that. It was too soon. He hadn't given her any warning. Except, he had. For a month, he had dropped hints, but she refused to notice them. "Oh?" she said lightly. "What about?"

"Let's sit down," he suggested, leading her over to a bench. "I wanted to discuss the future. Our future. Rose, I love you." He laughed nervously. "I've never said it out loud before. It's nice."

"Michael—"

"Please, let me say this."

Jack flashed before her eyes. She heard his voice. She felt him leaning over her, his gaze touching her before his hand, and her stomach lurched. Suddenly, she was sure nothing Michael was about to say would make her feel the way Jack's declaration had. It wasn't his fault. It was something she had to face. Stop! she screamed silently. She pushed the thought of Jack away. Don't do this to him or yourself. Don't cling to a ghost.

"I know I don't have very much money, but my practice is solid. I'm getting more and more cases. I have a little put away. There's enough to get married on." He looked into her eyes. "If I had the right woman. I think I do."

"How can you be sure?" she asked.

"I don't know. I just have a feeling. We could be happy together. Don't you sense that? Rose, would you marry me?"

She was at a loss for words. For an agonizing moment, she wasn't sure she could even speak. "I—I don't know," she said. His face fell slightly. "I haven't even thought about marrying anyone," she added quickly. "I'm not sure I'm ready for something like that. I do love you, but…Can I think about it? Please?"

"Of course," he said. "Take however long you need."

She smiled. "Thank you, Michael. I'm sorry I can't give you an answer now."

He waved away her apology. "No need to be," he said. "I don't want you doing anything you don't want to. I won't try to pressure you into something you're not ready for."

She leaned forward and kissed him. "Thank you," she whispered.

….

Michael was alone in the drawing room when Cal came in. He looked up from his book with a cheerful, "Hello."

Cal nodded to him. "Where is everyone?"

"Diana went into town. Edith and Frank are out riding. Rose is upstairs, having a nap."

"She's a rather interesting girl."

Michael smiled. "She is, isn't she? I've never met anyone like her. Listen, Cal, can I tell you something? Will you not tell the others?"

"Sure," Cal said. "Why not?"

"I asked Rose to marry me today."

"Really?" Cal tried to sound only mildly interested. "And what did she say?"

"That she had to think about it. But it's not a no, right? There's still hope," Michael said.

"Yes, there's still hope." Cal felt oddly elated by the fact that Rose hadn't said yes. Michael was a perfectly acceptable man. Cal wasn't even ashamed to be related to him, poor as he was, but the thought of Rose marrying him was depressing. At least Jack had had some spirit.

…

Diana came back from town with plans to throw a party. She ignored the protests and reminders that it was supposed to be a quiet week in the country and announced that invitations had already been sent out. "We'll use the ballroom," she said.

"You aren't throwing a large party, are you?" Frank asked.

"Just dancing and a late supper," she said. "I'm thinking at least twenty people, besides all of us."

"You didn't think it necessary to consult the rest of us before you began making preparations?" Cal asked.

"No," she said with a shrug. He could scold all he wanted. If invitations had gone out, he wouldn't make too much of a fuss.

Cal laughed quietly. "At least you're honest," he said.

"When is this happening?" Edith asked.

"Saturday," Diana answered.

Michael leaned closer to Rose. "I'm sorry you have to be here for one of Diana's parties," he whispered. "We're seldom invited to them, but I can assure you, they're awfully dull."

Rose stifled a laugh. "I'm sure it won't be that bad," she whispered back. "We can always sneak out early."

Michael reached under the table and gave her hand a squeeze. He would never have thought of an idea like that. Rose wasn't afraid of anything, not even his cousins' displeasure, which could be rather formidable. Cal tried to watch them without being noticed. What were they whispering about? Michael laughed quietly. He gazed at Rose affectionately, and Cal felt a pang of jealousy.

….

Rose set out early the next morning. She crept into the kitchen and prepared a breakfast she could carry with her. She left a brief note for Michael. She turned and looked up at the house before entering the woods. It didn't look quite as stern in the soft morning light. She walked briskly, eating slowly. The late September air was cool. She loosened her hair, letting it flow down her back. She'd lain awake all night, grappling with Michael's question, but she still didn't have an answer.

He was kind. Funny. Intelligent. He didn't try to stifle her. He shared her interests. They had fun together. His family liked her, or at least, part of them did. She had to admit that he was right. They could be happy together. But would they be laughing or smiling? Would they be truly happy or merely content? Why didn't she just know? If she turned him down, would it be because she was holding on too tightly, or because she didn't love him enough?

The twig snapping startled her. She whirled around to see Cal. "Did you follow me?" she said accusingly.

"No. I was on a walk of my own," he replied. She stepped back as he moved forward. "You shouldn't be out here alone," he went on. "You could get lost. Even people who know these woods have gotten lost."

"I can handle a walk in the woods." She couldn't read his expression, and it made her nervous.

As she turned to go, he said, "Don't tell me you're going to marry him."

"I had no intention of telling you anything, but since you seem to care so much, I'll let you know I'm considering it."

"Why?"

His question caught her off guard. She expected him to mock her; she expected a sarcastic jibe, not such a frank expression of curiosity. "Because he's a good man," she answered. "I enjoy being with him, and I love him. Is that enough reason for you?"

Cal didn't know what made him say it. The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "What would Jack think of him?"

Rose's jaw tightened. "How dare you mention him!" she spat. "You didn't know him! And after what you did—"

"You couldn't have known him very well," Cal replied smoothly. "He isn't with you. What happened? Did he get bored?"

"He died," Rose said, forcing her voice to remain even. Her hands clenched into fists, and her heart pounded. Tears threatened to fill her eyes, though whether from sadness or anger she didn't know.

"Oh." Cal felt self-conscious. Sure, he'd tried to kill them both, but now, without a jealous rage upon him, he felt sympathy for her. She had survived that night, including everything he had done to make it even worse, but she didn't have the person she fought so hard to be with. Cal had a grudging respect for her. Few people had ever stood up to him the way she had. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. Tears spilled from her eyes. She lowered her head and hugged herself. "Here," he said, offering a handkerchief. It was white silk with his initials embroidered in black.

She laughed at the sight of it. "How impractical," she said. "I'd forgotten you carried these." She dried her eyes, but a fresh wave of tears washed over her as soon as she finished.

Cal didn't know what to do. He had nothing else to offer, and he knew better than to touch her. "Was it very recent?" he asked.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" She shook her head. "It happened that night. He didn't make it out of the water." She couldn't believe she was telling Cal, of all people, about Jack's death. Michael didn't even know about him. But it felt so good to talk about it. "He—he made sure I would survive," she said.

They avoided looking at one another. The air between them was thick, and an unsettling sense of intimacy had sprung up between them. Rose turned and headed in a new direction. Cal followed, walking next to her. "I want to be alone," she said.

"You really can get lost," he said. "It's happened before."

"And you're following me out of concern?" she said, a sarcastic edge in her voice.

"You shouldn't marry Michael."

"Don't bring that up again. We aren't friends. We aren't anything," she said. "You don't get to try and control my life anymore."

"I'm not trying to control your life. I just think you should consider what you would be agreeing to," he said. "Yes, Michael is good. He's so wonderfully well-behaved and respectable it's sickening. But that's not what you want. You didn't run away with Jack because he offered you order and respectability."

"Why do you care?" She stopped and looked up into his eyes. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe I would just hate to think we both went to all that trouble for nothing."