I'm hanging my head in shame at not updating this story regularly and leaving so long between chapters! I'm really sorry. Life just gets in the way. But here's a new chapter and hopefully the next one won't take as long. Let me know what you think!

Rose had been looking forward to the ballet. It would be the first time she would leave the house properly since she'd arrived at Mosley's. She wasn't fully recovered from her head injury - she had frequent headaches and bouts of dizziness - but she was getting restless and wanted to get outside. She really wanted to go riding but the ballet would have to do. Mosley was also excited about taking her out and promised her that she would have the time of her life. He wouldn't tell her where they were going, only that it was outside of London.

She was relieved about that. Every day, she woke up expecting that to be the day when Tommy would find her and drag her back to Arrow House. She was grateful to Mosley for allowing her to stay with him and felt safe with him. She knew his work in the House of Commons would bring him into contact with Tommy but he assured her that he only knew her brother in passing and that her secret was safe with him. Rose knew that she wouldn't be able to rely on the generosity of Mosley forever and was trying to work out how she could survive on her own yet under Tommy's radar. Maybe America was an option. There must be plenty of places to disappear in America. She resolved to talk to Mosley about it after the ballet.

Mosley had bought her a dress for the ballet along with all the accessories. She gasped when she saw it hanging in her room. It was the most expensive and grown-up dress she'd ever owned. She went downstairs to tell him that she couldn't possibly wear it when she heard him talking to Lady Metcalfe in the drawing room. She stood outside and listened.

"You're an absolute beast, Oswald, and you've broken my heart."

"Oh come now, Lexi, don't be so dramatic."

"How can I be any other way when you are taking that … that child to the ballet? You know that the ballet is my favourite thing to go to. Why won't you take me?"

"Because that poor little creature needs some pleasure in her life. And I'm the one who can give her that."

"Pleasure! What kind of pleasure exactly are you offering to her? You know she's old enough to be your daughter?"

"There's no need to be crude, Lexi. This young woman is very important to me and my future. You need get a hold of yourself and stop being so jealous."

"Oswald, I am not jealous, I am merely reminding you that you are no longer a young bachelor looking for passing fun. You have responsibilities."

Mosley burst out laughing. "Responsibilities? To you?"

Lady Metcalfe scoffed. "To your family and our reputation. What will your colleagues and constituents think of you gallivanting round with a skinny, freckled-face gypsy who is so far below our standards, I could scrape her off my shoe!"

At this, Rose had heard enough. She gathered herself, swept into the room and, ignoring Lady Metcalfe completely, made a beeline for Mosley who stood by the window. She took his hand.

"Oswald, I've just seen that beautiful dress you bought for me. It's absolutely gorgeous. You really shouldn't have spent so much on me, but I can't wait to wear it to the ballet. We'll be the most handsome couple there."

She turned and looked at Lady Metcalfe smugly. "You should see it, Lady Metcalfe; you couldn't help but admire it. You could try it on if you'd like to – though I don't think it would fit you and the colouring would be completely wrong for you, of course. You must have equally beautiful gowns in your wardrobe though. Does your husband buy them for you? I can't imagine him picking out a dress for you, he seems so stuffy. Oswald has chosen the absolute best colour for me. And the jewels – unspeakably lovely."

Rose turned and beamed up at Mosley but not before seeing Lady Metcalfe's face turn puce. Mosley grinned back at her and raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly what she was doing and was impressed by her ability to manipulate her enemy so easily.

"You are very welcome, my dear. I guarantee that the moment you walk into that room, every single eye will be on you."

Lady Metcalfe let out a squeak of anger, turned and flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Mosley wagged a finger at Rose.

"You are deliciously wicked, young lady."

Rose lifted her hand and danced her fingers lightly on her collarbone. She lowered her eyes demurely.

"I don't know what you mean, Oswald."

He chuckled. "You like the dress then?"

She raised her eyes to him, serious now. "It's lovely, Oswald, but I think it's too mature for me."

"Oh nonsense! You're an adult now, you should be proud of who you are. Claim your place in the world and let them think what they want."

Rose wasn't so sure. She didn't really care what the world thought of her but she did know she felt uncomfortable wearing a dress like that. Still, she did want to claim her place in the world, to be independent and make her own choices. Maybe he was right; maybe looking the part was the beginning of it.

And so, when the time came to dress for the ballet, she dressed with the help of a house maid who put all the straps in the right place and pinned her hair low against her neck, leaving some delicate strands free which brushed against her face and shoulders. She also applied make up to her face in way Rose had never worn before – rouge and eye shadow and a very red lipstick.

As Rose walked down the stairs to a waiting Mosley, she could not help but catch the look of hunger in his eyes. Her stomach lurched with unease but she told herself that she was flattered by his interest. He held a warm fur shawl in his hands and as she approached him, stood behind her and wrapped her in it, his face close to her neck, his arms around her, his hands lingering on her hips. She stepped away, turned and forced herself to smile at him.

"You look ravishing, my dear Rose."

"Thank you."

He held out an elbow. "Your chariot awaits."

He led her outside to the car and opened the door for her. She settled in the back seat as he went round the other side and climbed in to join her. His eyes wandered over her and she pulled the shawl closer. The car started up and they pulled away.

"Will you tell me where we're going, Oswald?"

He grinned. "No, it's a surprise. In fact …"

He closed the curtain on his window as well as the one which was in-between the front and back seats. Then he leaned over her and closed the curtain on her window. She frowned at him as he sat back.

"There - now it really will be a surprise." His eyes sparkled at her and he wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh, don't frown, you'll create wrinkles on that beautiful face of yours. Don't you trust me?"

She instinctively knew that she didn't trust him, but she was committed to her plan to be independent and grown up, so made herself smile at him. If to live in the world she wanted to be in in order to escape her past meant that she had to get over herself and not be afraid, then that's what she'd do.

"Of course I do, Oswald. I just don't like not knowing things."

He put a hand on her knee. "But my dear, the anticipation is the best thing. Just enjoy the thrill of the unknown. Feel the fear and then learn to ignore it - you'll accomplish things you never thought possible."

She sighed and crossed her legs to get him to remove his hand. It all sounded good and she was drawn to the idea of ignoring the fears in her life, but she could hear Aunt Pol's voice in her head.

"Listen to the fear, Rose. There's a reason for it. Find out what it is and then deal with it. Is it the dark – light a candle; the thunder – turn the radio on; a girl at school – find her weakness and use it against her. Don't let the fear control you but never ignore it – it's your greatest ally."

She noticed Mosley watching her curiously. She spoke lightly.

"It's just a ballet, Oswald. What is there to be afraid of?"

"Nothing, my dear, nothing at all"

She resigned herself to not knowing and spent the rest of the journey – which was longer than she thought it would be – listening to Mosley tell her about the recent meetings he'd been to and the interesting people he'd met. She wasn't very well-versed in the intricacies of politics but as he warmed up to his subject, it was impossible to ignore that fact that his views didn't match her own. She didn't like the way he talked negatively about different races of people, implying that they didn't belong in a healthy Britain. She thought about asking him if these included the Roma Gypsies of her heritage, but didn't want to hear the answer.

It was a few hours before the car slowed and then pulled to a halt. She reached up to pull back the curtain, but Mosley took her hand and kept it in his. She looked at him, frowning.

"Rose, my dear, we're here. Are you ready for your surprise? Outside of that door is something that will take your breath away, something that will finally allow you to let go of the past and embrace a new future."

She furrowed her brow. "A theatre?"

"Well, there will be theatrics, I have no doubt, but you will find the whole thing very liberating. Remember – you trust me."

And with that he opened his door and hopped out. Before it closed, Rose caught a scent of the air outside and was immediately overwhelmed. She knew exactly where she was and yet her mind couldn't process it at all. Before she could try and work it out, her door opened and Mosley leaned in, his hand extended, a large smile on his face.

She sat frozen for what felt like minutes, but was actually just a few seconds. There, behind Mosley, was the unmistakable façade of her former home, Arrow House. Her stomach dropped to her feet, her heart raced, her breathing quickened while her mind raced to make sense of it all. Mosley's voice cut through her jumbled thoughts.

"That's right, my darling, you're back. Now, don't worry, just look at me. Rose, look at me."

Rose dragged her eyes away from the open front door to Mosley's face.

"That's right. Trust me, yes? You're here because you will never be truly free from your past unless you look it right in the face and stare it down. You will look everyone in the face and make no excuses for who you are."

Rose could only whisper. "Oswald, no, we have to leave. We have to leave now."

And suddenly panic overtook her. She was desperate not to see any of her family, especially Tommy. She grabbed for the door to pull it closed. Instead, Mosley grasped her wrists and pulled her out of the car. She stumbled then struggled with him, trying to get back in, but Mosley put his arm around her and pulled her tightly to him, immobilising her. He whispered harshly in her ear; she could feel his warm breath on her neck.

"Rose! Get a hold of yourself. You are with me, now. With me! And I will take you in there on my arm and everyone will know who you belong to now. Do you hear me? Do you understand? Isn't this what you wanted? To break away, to be a different person? Well, now is the time to stop hiding and show them. Get a grip, turn around and take my arm."

Rose stiffened at his words. She knew he wasn't going to let her leave. Once again she felt trapped by those around her, but it was too late to do anything about it now. She straightened up, drew a ragged breath, turned around and clung to Mosley's arm.

She didn't remember crossing the threshold. She didn't remember the maid gasping in surprise and taking her shawl. She didn't remember the groups of people Mosley greeted on his way to the dining room. She didn't remember how lavishly and opulently the dining room had been decorated.

What she did remember, and what stayed with her for the rest of her life, was Tommy's face as he saw her enter the room on Mosley's arm.