A thousand apologies for the ridiculous delay in posting again! I never should have taken that break last spring because I lost the momentum I'd built up writing this story. It's been hard getting back into it, not helped by the fact that I'm not finding it easy writing Rose as an "adult". Huge thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter and to the lovely guest reviewer who asked if I was ok because I hadn't updated for so long! It spurred me on to finish this chapter. I hope you enjoy it and haven't forgotten the thread of the story after all this time. Let me know what you think. Wenlock x

Tommy was seething with rage. Not that anyone could tell just by looking at him, but as Polly glanced over at him in the car, she recognised the signs – the tense jaw muscle, the steel-blue eyes staring unblinking at an image only he could see, the rigidly straight posture, the chain of cigarettes which he had been smoking solidly since they had left Arrow House. She raised her eyebrows.

"You going to be able to keep you mind on the job?"

Tommy threw her a sharp look but didn't answer. She tried again.

"You need to stop thinking about Rose and focus on what we're doing."

Continuing to stare out of the window, he spoke calmly.

"You think I can't do both?"

"I know you can, the problem is when your anger at Rose gets mixed up with the righteous anger you need for this job."

Tommy didn't respond. He was tired, more so than usual. He hadn't slept since she'd left. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he thought again about that night he'd discovered she was gone. After he'd patched up Johnny and sent him off with Mal, he'd climbed the stairs wearily, trying to cast the image of Bonnie dead on a cross out of his mind. He walked down the landing towards Rose's room, intending to do the customary check on her before falling into his own bed, though he knew sleep wouldn't easily follow.

So preoccupied was he that he'd almost missed her absence. Opening the door, he had mistaken the quietness of her room for the reassurance of her presence and was closing the door again when something made him uneasy. He had learned not to ignore that feeling, it had saved his life more than once, and so he opened the door again and took a step into the room. From there, it was seconds before he realised she was gone and the icy fingers of fear gripped his heart.

By the time the sun stretched its long rays across the ridge behind Arrow House, Tommy had discovered that Rose had been on the last train from Birmingham to London but the trail had run cold from there and, no matter how many favours he called in or how much money he promised in exchange for information, he still had no idea where his sister was. And that made him furious. Furious that he couldn't solve the puzzle. Furious that Rose had run away from him. Furious that she'd so far outwitted him. And terrified because she was hurt and unwell and on her own.

As the car approached the convent orphanage, Polly cleared her throat loudly to bring Tommy back to the present. She was as worried about Rose as he was, but she knew she'd be able to keep her focus on the task in hand. Tommy had always allowed his feelings about Rose – love, fear, worry – to pull his thoughts away from the present and she needed him to be as focused as she was to put right the wrongs in this place.

She needn't have worried. Tommy's ice-cold rage hit its target and the sisters were left under no illusions as to why. Tommy had not forgotten what Rose had suffered at the hands of the sisters in London and he was not about to let the same thing happen to girls on his watch in his city.

On the journey home, Tommy's thoughts returned to Rose. He was hoping for news when he got back. He had all his men in London on the case as well as those in power whom he paid well to give him information. But he was disappointed when he arrived home. There had been no phone calls and Tommy angrily swiped his papers off his desk. How had she managed to outwit him? She was clever, he knew that, but he couldn't imagine she'd be able to disappear in London without help. Which begged the question – who was helping her?

Ada had sworn she hadn't seen her and he believed her. The two sisters were close but Ada would have reassured him as to Rose's safety if she was with her. May was out of the country and her large home had been shut up. Alfie wasn't in London, that much he knew. He had a man watching his house in Margate. Alfie rarely ventured out and Tommy was convinced that Rose didn't even know he was still alive. As far as Tommy was aware, Rose didn't know anyone else in London, although he couldn't be sure. She'd been at May's long enough to make acquaintances and form social connections. He swore loudly as he regretted once more sending her away.

Pouring himself a large whiskey, Tommy fell into an armchair and took a long gulp. There was so much to deal with on top of finding Rose – Michael, Mosley, The Billy Boys, Lizzie. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do it all. Lighting a cigarette, he took a deep drag and closed his eyes. Where the hell was she?

Rose was sat in the day room in Mosley's London townhouse. It was an airy first floor room with large bay windows through which the pale sun shone gently. Rose sat in a soft armchair overlooking the garden at the back of the house, enjoying the cool breeze which blew through an open window. It was the first time she'd been allowed out of bed and although she did feel somewhat light-headed, she had told the nurse that she felt fine.

She'd spent a number of days in bed, the first few of which she didn't remember. A doctor had been summoned and had immediately diagnosed a severe concussion. He'd wanted her to go to hospital but Mosley had refused. He knew that Tommy would try the hospitals and Mosley had every reason to comply with Rose's desire to disappear. It gave him enormous pleasure to imagine Tommy's anger and worry at not being able to locate his precious younger sister.

So Mosley brought the hospital to Rose. He employed a nurse and acquired all the equipment and medication necessary to ensure Rose's recovery. The nurse made sure that Rose was kept still and quiet, administering pain relief and fluids to keep her stable. Mosley would come in and sit by her side often, staring at her, planning how best to use her to his own advantage.

He wanted Tommy's help in his plans to form a new political party. Tommy's strong support in his constituency and his underworld links made him a valuable asset, but he knew he couldn't fully win his trust. People like Tommy Shelby trusted no one. Yet Mosley also knew that his family was his weakness and this young woman lying still and pale in the bed in his guest room was one of Tommy's most vulnerable chinks in his armour. Mosley had to play this game very carefully.

As Rose looked out over the garden, she tried to keep her thoughts from wandering to Tommy, or any of her family come to that. She wanted this to be her escape, her step into full independence, her break for freedom. She was grateful for Mosley's help. He had proved himself a caring and considerate host, sitting by her bed as she recovered, regaling her with stories of his life, distracting her with gossip from society. He gave her his full attention and catered to her every need. In her weakness and vulnerable emotional state, she interpreted his interest in her as genuine care. She felt listened to and enjoyed being with him. She was getting from him what she'd always wanted from Tommy – care, concern, acknowledgement with no strings attached and no fear. She was being treated like an adult, his equal and, in her contentment at finally getting what she wanted, she failed to notice Mosley's real intentions.

The door to the day room opened and Rose turned to see Mosley enter. She smiled as she watched him approach; she'd been hoping to see him. He beamed at her.

"Rose, my dear, you look positively glowing! How lovely to see you up and about."

"Well, I'm up but not so much about. The nurse had to practically carry me in here."

"Now, don't be so down on yourself. You have made a remarkable recover and will, I have no doubt, be attending parties and luncheons before you know it."

Rose scoffed. "I don't want to attend parties and luncheons."

Mosley sat down on the footstool by her feet and looked up at her. He took her hand and patted it.

"Rose, you are a lovely young woman. You deserve to be shown off at parties and to be treated with the resect you deserve."

She frowned at him as she took in his words. She didn't feel like she deserved any respect – she knew what she'd done. Mosley read her insecurity and pounced on it. He held her hand tighter and, leaning closer, spoke in a quiet voice.

"Darling girl, you have so much potential that you don't even realise. Not only are you beautiful and becoming, you are clever and sharp and you don't miss a thing. There is a place in our wonderful new world for people like you."

Rose wasn't used to compliments and she flushed. She was about to ask him what 'wonderful new world' he was talking about when the door opened and an immaculately dressed woman poked her head through the opening. She frowned when she saw Mosley holding Rose's hand.

"There you are, Oswald. I've been looking for you everywhere. What are you doing in this dreary little room? You said you'd take me for lunch."

Oswald grinned at his mistress, Lady Alexandra Metcalfe, his wife's younger - married – sister.

"Lexi, darling, have you met Rose?"

He beckoned her over. She moved closer reluctantly and looked down at Rose disdainfully. Rose felt her cheeks burn again but this time from embarrassment. She must look a sight in her plain dress, a blanket round her knees, her hair in two plaits to hide its unwashed state. She instinctively put up a hand to smooth it. Mosley was very taken with Rose's vulnerability, her delicate features a flushed pink, standing out against her auburn hair which glinted red and orange in the sunlight from the window.

Lady Metcalfe could see just how attracted Mosley was to Rose and was filled with jealousy. She was already sharing Oswald with her older sister and, she had just discovered, her stepmother; she wasn't about to share him with this slip of a girl too.

"Yes, I've met Rose. I passed her on the landing earlier as her nurse heaved her in here. You positively dreadful, dear. You really should go back to bed."

Rose stared at her, open-mouthed. Mosley laughed and stood up, still holding Rose's hand which he brought to his lips and gave the lightest of kisses.

"Pay no attention to Lady Metcalfe, my dear. She is just jealous of all the attention I'm giving you. She's feeling abandoned, aren't you, Lexi? "

Lady Metcalfe huffed. "Not if you take me for that lunch now, I won't"

Rose had recovered herself. "Will your husband be joining you, Lady Metcalfe?" She had spotted the ring on her finger.

Lady Metcalfe glared down at Rose and, turning abruptly, flounced out of the room. She spoke over her shoulder as she left.

"I will meet you at the car, Mosley. Five minutes, no later!"

Mosley chuckled as the door slammed. He wagged a finger at Rose.

"You are a wicked girl! Now, I'll have to spend the lunch hour appeasing an angry companion. You know exactly what you're doing, don't you, Rose?"

He put a hand on her shoulder and let it linger. Rose controlled the impulse to put her hand on his and instead closed her eyes. He brushed his thumb against her collar bone for the briefest of seconds before removing his hand and walking towards the door.

"I look forward to dinner with you tonight, Rose."

Rose opened her eyes as the door closed and took a deep breath as she looked out of the window. Underneath her enjoyment of being out from under Tommy's thumb and her excitement at Mosley's flattery, a feeling of unease began to form. She knew Mosley was married too, though she hadn't yet met his wife, and Rose was disturbed by Mosley's seeming lack of morals or remorse. She sensed that there was something deeper going on with him but she frowned and pushed away her thoughts. She was happy being Mosley's guest, he was the perfect gentleman and host and had been very understanding of her need to disappear for a while. She couldn't have done this without him. She convinced herself that Mosley was merely a good friend and that not everyone had sinister motives, despite what she'd been brought up to believe.

In fact, Mosley was very consciously manipulating Rose and deliberately cultivating her trust in him. He wanted her to fall for him completely – as a friend, as a brother and, potentially, as a lover. He wanted to cast his spell on her to such an extent that he would become the priority in her life. He wanted to get her to the point where she couldn't live without him and would choose him over Tommy every time. The power he felt as he watched her revel in his attention and her face brighten every time she saw him made him feel positively dizzy. To prise Tommy's most precious possession away from him was a delight and it was all he could do keep her presence in his house a secret. But he knew that, for now, it was best to keep this card very close to his chest.

The next few weeks saw the dance of power between Tommy and Mosley intensify. Mosley had done his homework and, when called to a meeting with Tommy, Arthur and Michael, took control of the meeting easily, leaving behind a furious Arthur, a bemused Michael and a frustrated Tommy who knew he had met his match. Mosley invited Tommy to be the deputy leader of his new political party.

Meanwhile, at his townhouse, he was reeling Rose in nicely. She began to relax as she realised that Tommy hadn't yet found her and was recovering well in what she perceived to be a safe and happy environment. She enjoyed many a dinner with just Mosley who took a great interest in her opinions on women in the workplace and on how to improve conditions for the working class, a lot of which she'd formed by listening to Jessie Eden. He shared his opinions with her sparingly, not wanting to scare her away with outright fascist comments. So he sprinkled his conversation with more generalized views about protecting the British working man from the effects of globalization which offered cheaper imports at the cost of domestic jobs. Mosley mentioned Britain's "enemies" without specifying who he meant. His eloquence and charm drew Rose more and more under his spell and she found herself agreeing wholeheartedly with everything he said.

Had Rose not been blinded by Mosley's charms, she would have been able to spot the undercurrents of fascism in Mosley's ideas. Her Shelby upbringing had been a socialist one and her Roma roots had brought prejudice into her life many times. Yet she was so taken with Mosley's interest in her, that all she could see was that she was finally being taken for the independent adult she thought she was and was being given the respect she lacked at home. She found the light-hearted atmosphere at Mosley's table a refreshing change to the often dark and argumentative times she'd spent with her family. This was what she wanted in her future – joviality, sensible conversation, mutual respect, a desire to change the world – not profanity-filled conversations about how best to reap the rewards of the family's involvement with the criminal underworld. She even found it within herself to accept Mosley's adultery, telling herself that his wife neglected him as she was never at home. Who could blame Oswald - as she now called him - for seeking comfort elsewhere? She even found herself wondering if she might be able to bring him that kind of comfort. He was, after all, an attractive and charming man and she was an adult in her own right. Why not partake of the pleasures that were now on offer to her with no brother to control her?

Mosley was very aware of the way Rose was beginning to feel about him and was delighted. There were very few women who didn't succumb to his charms if he really wanted them to. And Rose, as naïve and emotionally needy as she was, was particularly easy prey. He was still, however, keeping her at arm's length. The best things were always worth waiting for and he wanted to get maximum impact from his final vanquishing of her. It wasn't long before the opportunity for that moment came.

An invitation to a ballet at Tommy Shelby's house the Midlands, held in honour of his wife's birthday. Mosley grinned lasciviously as he studied the invitation in his hand. He knew Tommy's wife - in more than one sense of the word. Oh, what a joy it would be to thoroughly humiliate Thomas Shelby under his own roof.

He entered the dining room where breakfast was laid out. Rose was already at the table eating a slice of toast with jam. Her funny little working class ways amused him – toast with jam for breakfast when there were kippers and deviled eggs available. She smiled at him as she watched him sit down next to her at the head of the table.

"Good morning, Oswald."

"Good morning, dear Rose? How is my favourite patient?"

"Hardly a patient anymore, I'm fully recovered."

Mosley knew from the nurse that Rose still suffered from headaches but refused to take the pain relief she was offered. He knew, of course, all about her previous addiction and was impressed at her resolve. He would have preferred to have had her under the influence of opium, it would make her easier to manipulate, but she wasn't really proving hard to seduce so he didn't push the issue.

"That is true, my dear. And so, what do you say we celebrate your recovery?"

"Celebrate?"

"Yes, you were practically at death's door when you arrived here and yet look at you now – bright-eyed and radiant. We need to get you out to celebrate."

Rose frowned. "Out? No, I don't want to go out. It's not safe yet."

"Of course it's safe! I told you that I've made enquiries and found out that Tommy still has no idea where you are. He won't be looking for you at the ballet."

"The ballet?"

"Oh, what a dear little parrot you'd make, Rose, repeating everything I say. Yes, the ballet. Wouldn't you like to see Swan Lake?"

Rose had only been to see one ballet whilst she was at May's and she'd loved it. It had transported her to a world of elegance and music and imagination. But she was still unsure.

"Tommy still has men in London."

"It's not in London. How about that? See, little one, I have thought of everything. A ballet far away from Tommy's eyes in London. What do you think? And don't refuse, because I will insist and insist until I wear you down and you will be incapable of saying no to me."

Rose regarded him for a moment, then chose to ignore the hard flash of steel which passed through Mosley's eyes. She grinned at him and leaned towards him.

"I'd love to go to the ballet."

Mosley threw up his hands in delight. "Excellent! I shall dress you in the most exquisite dress you have ever seen and will be beyond delighted to have you on my arm for the evening." Leaning towards her, he put his hand on top of hers. "And I promise you, darling Rose, that you will experience things at the ballet which you have never experienced before. It will be a triumph and you will remember it for the rest of your life."