He grinned as he took her hand, and she vaguely wondered if he trimmed his eyebrows. They really were far too neat to be natural, and were actually rather distracting.
"It has been an honor to make your acquaintance, Miss DeWitt Bukater." The words from his mouth were oiled and slick, uttered a million times to a million girls. He brought her hand to his lips, which were twisted in an ever-present smirk.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Hockley," she said to his eyebrows.
She couldn't breathe. The world was swirling, a spiral of blended colors and neat brows. You will make him fall in love with you. His hair was so meticulous. You will save this family. But he had nice eyes. I am placing my trust in you, Rose. Or so she was told.
Caledon Hockley began to chat about terribly trivial subject—cigars and the weather. He managed to slip about twelve references to Hockley Steel Corporation into the conversation, and Rose found herself bored and slightly dizzy. The tightly laced corset wasn't helping matters, either.
You need to stop eating sweets, Rose. This dress is getting a little too tight.
"Mr. Hockley, if you'll excuse me, I believe that I need some fresh air."
"Well then, I'll escort you, Rose." He hadn't asked permission to use her first name. He was already acting like she was his.
"No, thank you, I'll be fine."
"But I insist."
Rose opened her mouth to protest.
Do not let me down. Do you understand?
But she didn't.
She allowed Mr. Hockley to lead her to the garden. She allowed him to sit beside her on the bench. She allowed him to compliment her, and she didn't flinch away.
If he proposes, it will ensure our family's survival.
She allowed him to kiss her.
You'll do fine, Rose.
At least he was handsome.
But don't fail me.
Or so she was told.