Rosalie woke early that morning to get ready for her grandfather's garden party. She sat by her tent and hummed a tune to herself as she detangled her curly hair with a wooden, wide tooth comb.
The book on German linguistics was kicked open at her feet, her eyes skimming over the page as she meticulously threaded the teeth of the comb through each strand, careful not to pull too hard and brush the curl out.
Rosalie knew minimal effort was needed to get ready for the party, as she would probably be shoved into a fancy dress and prettied up with makeup by someone else before the party began, but she still wanted to seem somewhat presentable. She wasn't an animal.
In fact, Rosalie was more particular than most about the way she looked. Before her father's passing, she would meticulously pick out her outfits in all sorts of bright colors, pairing shirts and pants together deliberately. She would shine her boots and take care that her clothes were clean.
It was hard when most of her things were worn, but she still tried. She was grateful for the things she picked up at Isabella's store, as she had needed some new clothes, and they made Rosalie look much more presentable.
She used to enjoy frivolous things such as shopping when they happened to earn extra cash from a good score. It didn't happen often, but she was always over the moon when they had the funds to buy her a new shirt or pair of pants.
It was hard for Henry to tell Rosalie no, especially when she would bat her eyelashes and rock on the balls of her feet after asking for something. Uncle Kurt was no help either as he usually picked out the item right there with her before turning to her father to give the 'OK.'
It was something she shared with her uncle, as Kurt liked his little nicknacks, his favorite being an expensive pocket watch he purchased as a Christmas present for himself when she was a young girl. Her father thought it was the stupidest thing ever and a waste of money, but Kurt guarded that watch with his life.
Rosalie missed them terribly.
Rosalie looked over to see Arthur had clambered out of his tent and started brewing coffee by the fire. The rich smell filled the air, and Rosalie had to resist the urge to go over and pour herself a cup. Instead, she remained planted by her tent with her eyes glued to the page, reading the words, but not really retaining anything from them.
A day had passed since their argument and they still hadn't spoken. Dutch told them no more fighting, so they weren't fighting—just not talking.
Maybe it wasn't fair of her to give Arthur the cold shoulder, but she had no idea how else to deal with her feelings of jealousy. It wasn't as though she could admit that she was jealous that Arthur had been seeing another woman because it would be indirectly confessing to him.
Which she would not do.
So, neither of them made a move to approach each other. Rosalie and Arthur were the only ones awake in camp, and yet, they didn't make any effort to make a conversation or even acknowledge each other. Rosalie continued to untangle her hair and Arthur drank his coffee, staring off into the distance.
The rest of the morning passed like that until Rosalie gathered her things and saddled herself on Blitz, setting off to the Montgomery plantation in the early afternoon.
The ride was easy, and she enjoyed the leisurely ride as she made her way through the towering oak and willow trees swaying in the light summer breeze. She rubbed a gentle hand over Blitz's neck as they turned down the familiar path toward the plantation, the gravel crunching underneath his hooves.
"You gotta be good for these gentlemen again, mister." Hummed Rosalie as she continued to stroke his neck. "They're gonna take real good care of you while I'm busy today, but you be sure to tell me if someone does anything to upset you." She finished with a small smile.
Of course, Rosalie knew her horse wouldn't be able to tell her anything, but anyone could have been fooled by the way Blitz tossed his head and snorted after her instructions as if he were agreeing. She loved that damn horse.
Rosalie trotted up to the house to see Jim strolling over, dressed in a thin brown coat and black rodeo hat on his head. With one hand wrapped around the rifle strap strung over his shoulder, he waved her over.
"How are you doing today, Miss Montgomery?" Greeted the man, his thin, blonde pencil mustache curling with his friendly smile.
"It's Klein," Corrected Rosalie as she dropped off her saddle, her boots crunching underneath the gravel as she landed. She ran her hand over his smooth, black neck and gave the animal a reassuring smile, before taking him by the reins and leading him over to Jim.
"Remember… if something happens to him…" She threatened, pointing to her black stallion.
Jim took the reins and waved her off. "Yes, I know, Miss Klein, ain't nothin' gonna happen to your horse here." He scoffed and gave Rosalie an incredulous look. "I ain't never met a lady so serious about the welfare of her horse."
Rosalie crossed her arms with an amused expression. "I like my horse. He's a good one, so I don't like just easily handing him off to people."
"Well ain't nothin' gonna happen to him, I promise you that!" He called over his shoulder, leading Blitz away from the front yard and toward the stables, the gravel crunching under their steps as they went.
Rosalie watched them walk away, before she turned to the house, staring up at the massive building with a deep sigh.
The house looked almost more mighty and dignified than the first time she looked at it, the colorful flowers well tended to and white paint on the home without a speck of dirt.
Rosalie still couldn't believe her mother grew up here. It was hard for her to fathom this kind of wealth. Being in her grandfather's study on a plush loveseat and looking at a painting of her mother yesterday was baffling enough. She could only imagine what the rest of the night would be like at a fancy party with her grandfather's business partners and friends.
Urging herself forward, she walked up the short steps to the house and knocked on the large red door.
There was the sound of thundering footsteps and shrill giggles before the door swung open to see a grinning, young blonde woman with wild curly hair staring back at her.
"You must be Rosalie!" Cheered the girl with wide, green eyes. She grabbed Rosalie by the arm and tugged her inside, slamming the door behind her.
Rosalie gasped, this girl grabbing ahold and throwing her around so fast and with so much unexpected strength that she didn't even have time to react. The girl threw her arms around Rosalie for a bone-breaking hug, and she was hit in the face with strong, floral perfume.
"I'm Juliette, your cousin!" She pulled away and gave Rosalie a bright smile, her hands still on her shoulders. "Everyone calls me Julie or Jules, though. So don't worry about calling me by my full name. I don't particularly like it. Momma only calls me that when I do something wrong." She said, the last sentence coming out in a hushed whisper as though she was afraid her mother would hear her.
Now that Rosalie wasn't being flung around like a rag doll, she could get a look at her newfound cousin, Julie.
Rosalie didn't have a hard time believing they were related, especially as she took in her thin face, and bright, bouncy blonde curls. The only difference really between the two was that Julie's facial structure was much softer with a thin jaw, whereas Rosalie knew her face to be much firmer with strong features.
"Nice to meet you," Greeted Rosalie with a small smile.
The grin widened across Julie's face and she tugged her toward the double staircase, running up the left side as she pulled Rosalie behind her. "C'mon! The party starts at four, so we need to start getting you ready." She called over her shoulder, obviously very excited about the thought.
Rosalie allowed herself to be pulled down the hall, Julie skirting to a stop before a thick oak bedroom door. She threw it open, grinning as she walked inside, pulling Rosalie behind her. Rosalie was dumbfounded as she took in the pure luxury of the room, her mouth agape as Julie shut the door.
The walls were lined with cream wallpaper, plush rug beneath her and filling most of the room. Two cream loveseats were arranged in the center of the room, positioned gracefully around a coffee table adorned with a fresh vase of flowers.
A wooden, sleigh bed was pressed against the far wall, a light, baby-pink silk duvet draped over the mattress. An upholstered bedroom bench was pressed against the end of the bed, dozens of dresses draped over the piece of furniture in all different colors. Accessories such as fans and necklaces were laid beside them.
Rosalie blinked at the sight of garments, unable to keep her mouth closed.
Just how much money could she get for one of those necklaces alone? What price would those dresses fetch? The dollar signs were practically rolling through her head as she stared at them, her feet planted at the entryway of the room, almost fearful to come further inside.
Julie walked over to her vanity on the far side of the room, a fancy stool set before a marble counter, a large mirror perched on the tabletop and lined in fancy gold designs. She sat down and picked up a comb, much like the wooden one Rosalie had, but heavier like it was made of some sort of expensive stone.
Julie looked at Rosalie in the reflection of the mirror as she combed her hair. "You can pick out one of those dresses on the bench there. My mother is getting some extra hair supplies and makeup for us to get ready."
Rosalie took the hat off her head and ran her hand around the brim, feeling awkward and out of place.
Julie, noticing her apprehension, turned around and gave her a warm smile. "Do you want me to help you pick something out? I don't mind, I have an eye for fashion you know." She hummed, getting up and walking over to the pile of dresses.
She shifted through the fabric, the dresses falling over one another like water as she picked one up to look at it, before setting it off to the side. Finally, she held up a pale blue dress, the bottom puffed out and the sleeves lined with lace. There seemed to be two layers of the skirt, a piece of lace stitched to the outside and draping around the backside.
Rosalie did think it was pretty, but she still felt wrong about coming further into the room. Everything looked so… expensive. She kept clean, scrubbing down her shoes and wearing fresh clothes today, but in comparison to Julie's bedroom, she looked like an animal.
Julie held the dress up and glanced at Rosalie, smiling at her. "I think this one would look best. Don't you?" She asked, tilting her head.
The door opened. Eleanor walked in, a black woman in a help uniform carrying the things behind her and huffing. It was apparent that she was struggling, but Eleanor didn't pay her much mind, as she only pointed to the marble counter beside Julie's vanity.
"Set those there, Sarah." Eleanor patted a lacy, pink fan against her hand and gave the woman a smile. "Thank you. Now if you would, please bring us some tea. We'll be parched from all this beauty work."
Sarah nodded. "Yes, misses."
Rosalie was so confused by the scene in front of her, her eyes following the maid as she walked out and gently shut the door behind her.
The thought of having maids to bring them tea was… so odd. Rosalie could barely wrap her mind around it. Not to mention that the woman was huffing and obviously struggling, and Eleanor had barely batted an eye in her direction or offered to help.
"That's Sarah." Explained Julie, who was still holding the blue dress up and glancing from Rosalie to the fabric, trying to evaluate if it was a good option. "Her parents were slaves here before the war, and once it was over and they all got set free, grandfather offered them jobs to work here."
Rosalie was disturbed at the thought of her grandfather owning slaves. She never thought about it before, but she wasn't actually shocked that he owned them at one point, as they were in the deep south of Louisiana on a tobacco plantation. She felt stupid that she was only now realizing it.
Slavery was not something Rosalie had been exposed to over her life, as she hadn't been surrounded by anyone who had slaves or thought slavery was acceptable. She grew up in the North, New York of all places, and by the time Rosalie was born the civil war was already over.
The idea of people returning to work for their former owners after being freed seemed twisted and unjust. It made Rosalie's stomach churn. She couldn't help but wonder about the conditions and choices Sarah and her family had faced. Though they were now paid for their labor, the past exploitation and oppression cast a long shadow.
At her look of confusion and sour face, Eleanor waved her off. "I know this may be different than you're used to as a Yankee, but down here this is normal. Sarah and her family are paid well by Daddy! So don't think nothin' of it."
Rosalie fidgeted with her hat, still feeling uncomfortable by the situation, but walked over to the two women anyway. If she kept her feet planted by the door, it was sure to be an awkward rest of the afternoon.
Eleanor nodded in approval. "Yes, I think this one will look so beautiful on you, Rosalie! Oh, your Mother used to wear dresses like these all the time. Blue was her best color, so I'm not surprised you are the same." She reminisced with a glossy expression.
Julie set the dress down and grabbed Rosalie by the shoulders, steering her over to the bed where what looked to be… an overwhelming amount of undergarments laid on the bed.
"What… are these?" Rosalie asked slowly, reaching down to pick up a white piece of fabric that looked like an odd skirt.
Eleanor smiled at her. "They're undergarments, dear. Don't worry–we can help dress you. If you're comfortable with that." She added, looking at Rosalie kindly.
Rosalie had never undressed in front of someone before. By the time she was about seven, she was bathing herself and getting dressed without needing her father's help. No one had seen her naked since then… so the thought was a little strange, especially as she still didn't know these women very well. They may have claimed to be her family, but they still felt like strangers to Rosalie.
"Um…" She trailed off, her face turning red from embarrassment.
Julie laughed. "We don't have to see you naked if that's what you're worried about. Just put on the things you can and we'll help you with the rest. The makeup and hair is what you'll need the most help with anyways."
"Juliette!" Cried Eleanor in a shrill voice. "Don't be so crude!"
Julie shrugged and rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying. You could see on her face that it was what she was thinking!"
Eleanor shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, walking over to one of the plush loveseats in the center of the room and plopping down. She huffed in exasperation and didn't look in their direction again.
Juliette waved her off and began picking up the different undergarments from the bed. She walked over to a door at the end of the room and beckoned for Rosalie to follow her inside.
The room attached to her bedroom looked like some kind of bathing room. A porcelain basin filled with steaming water was placed against the far wall with a table beside it. On the table was a bowl with a clean sponge and two fluffy towels.
Rosalie neared the tub, blinking in awe at the steaming water and the heat that radiated from the basin. There was a sweet, floral scent from the water. She could only imagine how relaxing it would be to dip inside of it.
"You can bathe here. There's a privacy screen just outside the door where I'll be leaving these. As soon as you wash up, just head out there and change into what you can. If you need help, I'll be in the room with Momma gettin' ready." Julie said, gesturing to the water basin.
Rosalie gave Julie a sideways look. "...I did bathe today, you know."
Julie gave her an apologetic smile. "Yes, I'm sure you did, but this water is scented, so it'll… help mask any other smells you may have picked up on the way here."
Rosalie made a face. She couldn't believe that Julie was trying to indirectly tell her she stunk. She knew that she didn't smell like roses, but she did take care to clean her clothes and wipe herself down with water they dragged from any nearby streams or rivers.
"Mmkay," Rosalie responded, defeated as she turned toward the bath.
Julie gave her another friendly smile, before she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
With a deep sigh, Rosalie looked down at the water.
She had a feeling this was going to be a very, very long day.
Rosalie shed her clothes, folding them neatly into a pile on the floor beside the tub, and placed her hat on top. Slowly, one leg in before the other, Rosalie dipped herself into the tub, the warm water encasing her as she lowered herself to the bottom, her nose just above the surface. She hugged herself beneath the sheet of warm water as the sweet smell of roses filled her senses.
She didn't know why, but the moment the water settled, the room quiet, her heart clenched in her chest, and tears pooled in her eyes.
Perhaps it was the comfort of the water, holding her like a warm embrace, just as her father used to whenever she had a nightmare or was frightened by something as a little girl.
He would pull her into his lap, wipe her tears with gentle hands, and offer a comforting smile as he calmed her. He would whisper that he loved her and that he was the big, bad wolf who would protect her from anyone who tried to harm her. Humming a song, he would soothe her until her cries subsided, rocking her gently and stroking her hair.
Rosalie squeezed her eyes shut and took in a large breathe through her nose, before pulling herself under the surface, the water sloshing as she pressed her back to the bottom of the tub.
She could feel the tears burning in her eyes, but beneath the water, she couldn't feel them running down her cheeks, or the painful sobs that threatened to rip through her chest.
Rosalie wanted her father back. She missed him dearly. Learning about her mother and her family only made her miss him more. How would he feel, knowing that she was here with her mother's family? She wished she could ask him about it. She wished she could ask him about everything.
Running out of breath, she sat up, the water splashing as she broke the surface. Her hair was a thick curtain around her face as she took in deep breaths, trying to fill her lungs with air once more.
Rosalie needed to remain focused. One of her grandfather's business partners was conspiring against him with the O'Driscolls, and it was likely he would be at this party today. If there was any information she could get about their next move, or on Colm and Cormac's whereabouts, she needed to find it.
She cleaned up and dressed to the best of her ability, only asking for Julie's help to lace the very uncomfortable and tight corset, and to guide her on when to put on each layer of the confusing ensemble.
After she dressed, Julie guided her to the vanity and began to dry her hair, running the same stone comb she had used on her own hair through Rosalie's. No one had brushed Rosalie's hair since her father had as a girl, so it was a strange sensation to adjust to. But Rosalie didn't mind, as Julie did it with care, her touch delicate and kind.
Once she was satisfied with the combing, Julie pinned her hair up into a fancy updo, her blonde curls held neatly at the base of her skull, with a few curls delicately framing her face. It was similar to the way Rosalie did her own hair when she wanted to appear inconspicuous for cons, so it was not an unfamiliar style to her. However, her hair felt much softer and smelled like flowers from the bath, adding a touch of luxury to the familiar style.
The makeup was probably the most confusing part for Rosalie. She never wore makeup, as she had no one to teach her how to apply it or what to buy. She had always recognized when women wore color on their cheeks or something on their lips, but she never sought it out on her own.
It was a delicate thing as Julie applied a light bit of face powder on her skin and tapped a light pink blush into her cheeks with her fingers, followed by a very slight red lip stain that barely changed her lips from her natural color.
Once she was finished, Julie stepped back with a wide smile and beckoned Eleanor over, her eyes fixed on Rosalie.
"Oh, you look so beautiful." Julie cooed.
Eleanor came over, in the process of fixing her own makeup in another mirror on the other side of the room. Her face softened as she took in the sight of Rosalie, and she couldn't help herself as she placed a tender hand on her arm.
"You look just like your Momma," Eleanor said gently.
For the first time since the entire ordeal, Rosalie turned to look at herself in the mirror, taken aback by the person who was staring at her.
Her curls were pulled out of her face, save for the few that hung around her cheeks and against her forehead. The usual redness that tinged her cheeks was dusted over with the face powder, the only color being the delicately placed blush on her cheekbones that made her appear more feminine rather than the usual rosacea. Her lips were pouty with a lip stain and glossy.
The blue dress she wore was something as well, the delicate lace lining the sleeves and neck against the pale color made her look like she was meant to be part of this life. It was strange, but in a way, it made her feel beautiful.
Rosalie never thought herself to be ugly, especially as she usually tricked others by playing the part of a pretty young girl, wooing them with bats of her eyelashes and bright smiles. But looking at herself now… she really did feel beautiful. Like a true lady. It was an odd feeling, but she could have done without the corset.
Julie smiled at her in the mirror, Rosalie's brown eyes meeting her green as Eleanor moved to place her hands on her shoulders.
"You could do without that black hat you always wear," added Eleanor. "I can see your face properly now. You have a nice one—no need to hide it like some folks do with their hats."
Rosalie didn't have the chance to reply that the black hat was not anything ordinary, but as Eleanor clapped her hands with a bright smile. "Now that we're all ready, let's go downstairs! The guests are bound to be filling in now."
With that, they went downstairs and into the backyard where the party was set. Rosalie found it difficult to walk in her heeled shoes, as while her boots were heeled, the shoes she wore were much more delicate and wobbly in comparison. She made it work though, walking down the stairs and into the backyard after her cousin and aunt.
The backyard was full of people, tables and chairs set up throughout the garden, the patches of flowers offering a bright background to the party as the guests mingled about. There was the soft melody of stringed instruments and a piano, along with the hum of chatter.
Julie had given her a fancy blue fan lined with lace, and she was grateful for it as it gave her something to do with her hands. Julie looped her arm through Rosalie's and led her over to their grandfather, who was having a conversation with an older woman with a hooked nose.
At the sight of her, Charlie smiled wide, beckoning the girls over.
"Ah, there you are!" He turned to the woman beside him and smiled at her, though Rosalie could tell it was strained in comparison to the one he gave to his granddaughters.
"These are my granddaughters, Rosalie and Juliiuette," He introduced, gesturing toward her. "And this is Mrs. Catherine Braithwaite."
The woman smiled at both the girls, but Rosalie could tell it was not authentic, the sour expression beneath her stretched lips rotten enough for her to see a mile away. Rosalie was a born bullshitter, and had been all her life thanks to her father. The saying was true; you can't bullshit a bullshitter.
Julie seemed to stiffen as well, but she still smiled kindly. "Yes, well, I just wanted to come over and say 'hello' before I take Rosalie to see some of my friends."
Charlie smiled, though it was still tight, obviously not wanting to be left alone with Catherine, who was sipping at her glass now, uncaring about the exchange between them.
"Yes, I'll have to catch up with you later. Enjoy the party." He smiled at them with a small wave, before he returned to the conversation with Catherine, whose face fell flat, the woman appearing bored out of her mind.
The two girls trailed off, weaving between guests that Julie made sure to smile at and give polite waves to if it was someone her grandfather was familiar with. Rosalie felt like a fool next to her, stuffed in a fancy dress and attached to her arm. She didn't know how to greet these people, and she could tell the patrons thought she was odd from their raised brows and twisted expressions.
Rosalie did feel beautiful, but a deeper, more insecure part of her, felt like a fraud.
Julie led her to a group of girls, all dressed in similar gowns to Julie and herself, but ranging in shades of purple, dark maroon, and green. They were all beautiful with delicate, curled hair twisted into intricate updos, their necks, and ears adorned with glittering jewelry.
How much money would just one earring get her? Or their necklace? It would be easy to slip it off... maybe she spills a drink and pats them down with a napkin, only to fumble at the neckline and slide the necklace into the dirty napkin. It would probably be easy.
"My, you look so beautiful!" Cried one of the girls, a small brunette with blue eyes. "And is this your cousin? The one you had told us all about?"
Julie nodded with a wide grin. "Yes! Isn't she so pretty!"
Another woman fanned herself, smiling at Rosalie. "You look so much alike. No wonder your mother approached her. At first, when you said she found her in a café in the French district, I thought it was a joke, but now I see it's not! You must feel like Cinderella, coming here to all this fanciness and luxury compared to what you had before." She hummed, waving her fan around.
Rosalie blinked, unsure what the comment was supposed to mean, but it felt as though there was a jab intended. The woman seemed to be implying that the place she came from was trash compared to the Montgomery manor. It sent a spark of irritation through her.
"I don't understand your meaning, Miss," Rosalie said plainly, though she was doing her best to keep a polite tone.
The woman shrugged with a deep sigh and rolled her eyes. "Well, Jules told us all about how you lived on the road with your father, bouncing from place to place, and that you dress like a man usually, no less–"
Julie paled and grit her teeth, angry that she had been sold out. "Madeline–!"
Rosalie tugged her arm from Julie's grip and looked between the two girls, unable to contain the anger pooling in her chest. "You were talking about me to your friends like I'm some interesting gossip?" She said incredulously.
She couldn't believe she was stupid enough to think her cousin would be her friend and not someone who would make fun of her.
"I-I…" Julie stumbled over her words, fighting to come up with something. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear! I only told her the things Momma told me–!"
Before Rosalie could say anything else though, there was a deep sigh behind them.
"Juliette," said the chiding, masculine soft voice. "Please don't cause a scene. It's improper to gossip, anyhow."
They turned to see two men behind them. The first, Rosalie recognized as George Langley, the man who had received her the first day at the plantation and gave her a tour of the gardens.
He wore a dark green button-up, a cream vest on top with a silver pocket chain. He wore no hat, his hair combed over neatly once again with what looked to be an expensive pomade.
George kept his eyes trained on Rosalie, his expression unreadable. His lips parted slightly, as if in entranced awe, but she didn't pay him much attention. Her gaze quickly shifted to the new person before her.
He was tall and blonde, his face thin and eyes a deep brown. He looked quite similar to Julie and herself, which made her wonder if this man was also one of her cousins. He wore a crisp white button-up with a black vest, and gold chain clipped to his pocket. There was something very meticulous and poised about him, different from the somewhat boisterous nature Julie seemed to have.
The blonde man turned his attention to her and held out his hand. "I don't think we've met yet, but I'm assuming you are Rosalie Klein?"
Rosalie took his hand and gave it a firm shake, "Yes, I am. And you're…?" She trailed off, looking up at him.
He was the first to call her by her real last name, instead of assuming she was a Montgomery. It was a small detail, but Rosalie appreciated it.
"Loius Montgomery." He greeted, before dropping her hand and shifting his gaze back to Julie, who was red with embarrassment.
"Please do forgive my silly sister, as she can be crass and make choices sometimes that are rather unfavorable…" Louis scolded, meeting her gaze with a look of disapproval.
The group of women fanned themselves, politely averting their gazes from the scene before them, creating an awkward tension. One of the women suggested they go get champagne, and the others quickly chimed in with voices of agreement. The posse slid away toward the refreshment table.
Julie watched them leave before glancing at Rosalie and frowning. "I truly am sorry. Please don't be offended by my words or my friends." She apologized.
Rosalie was irritated by that woman's words, but she could tell that Julie was remorseful about it. She had spent the entire morning chatting Rosalie's ear off and getting her ready for the party. If Julie wanted to hurt or make her look stupid, she would have done it by now.
"It's fine," said Rosalie stiffly.
There was an awkward lull. Louis sighed and shook his head, coming over to hold his sister by the shoulders. He gave Rosalie an apologetic look.
"It was nice to meet you, but I think we should go find our mother now," Louis gave her a small, polite smile, before steering Julie into the crowd of people.
Leaving her alone with George, Rosalie gave a great, big sigh, placing a hand on the side of her face.
Why did Rosalie agree to come here in the first place? It seemed like such a big headache. She wasn't used to these high society things, and wearing the dress with a thousand layers while speaking to women who seemed to think she was a wounded puppy was humiliating.
"I hope you're not too miserable. The party has a few more hours left to go, at least," Chimed George, walking closer to her now that Loius was gone.
Rosalie waved him off with another deep sigh. "No, it's just that I'm not used to doing things like this. I've never been anywhere like this before." She shot a glare in the direction of the group of ladies. "But that doesn't make me some poor, street urchin. What did she even tell them anyway?!" She added with grit teeth.
George laughed. Rosalie looked over at him in surprise. She didn't expect him to laugh at her out of all things. What had she said that was so funny?
George placed his hands on his hips as he tried to subdue his laughter, but it wasn't working very well. "No, no, sorry, it's just that you looked so ferocious as you said that—I don't think I've ever heard anyone, let alone a lady speak like that before. It's funny."
"Well," Rosalie crossed her arms with a huff. "I don't think it's very funny. Those women were talking about me as though I came from trash!"
George shrugged. "To them, you probably did."
Rosalie gave him a look of bewilderment. "Excuse me?"
"Hey, before you get upset with me, I'm not claiming you're from trash," he said, shaking his head to put that thought to rest. "I'm only saying that your lifestyle would make any one of these ladies, even the men, turn on their heads if they had to live the way you do."
Rosalie raised a brow. "The way I do…?" She crossed her arms and turned to face him fully. "And what is the way I live?"
George flashed her a bright grin. "Why, as a wild gunslinger, miss."
Rosalie snorted and shook her head. "I am not a gunslinger. Where did you get that idea from?"
George held his arm out for her to take. "Because, you carry a gun and dress yourself like a wild cowboy miss. It's not a bad thing; I'm only using my astute observation skills." He teased, batting his eyelashes at her.
"Uh huh…" Rosalie slid her arm through his, allowing him to guide her over to the refreshments table, weaving through people, the lively music of the stringed instruments in the background.
Her jaw almost dropped to the floor at the amount of food and drinks they had sitting out. All sorts of fruits, cheeses, crackers, and fancy-looking pastries.
Rosalie thought she had died and gone to heaven when she purchased that chocolate croissant in the French district, but these pastries were miles above that one from their looks alone.
"Are you alright?" George asked as her eyes scanned the table.
"I'm just… there's so many…" She blinked slowly. "I've never seen so much food in my life!"
George barked a laugh. "Yeah, kind of unfortunate, but a lot of this goes to waste. There's too much food so not all of it gets eaten."
"Do you think they'd let me take some with me?" Rosalie asked, her eyes wide.
George laughed, failing to understand that it wasn't a joke and that she was serious about stuffing a bunch of the food into a rucksack and making off with it. The food almost seemed to be a more prized possession than any fancy necklace or painting in her head. She would gorge herself on cheese for hours, and she could only imagine how John would react if she showed up with a sack full of food.
"Have you ever had a fruit tart?" George asked.
"No, why?" Rosalie pulled her gaze from the table of assorted goods to look at him.
He let go of her arm and backed away. "Wait here. I'll go get one for you. It's my favorite. My mother used to yell at me, saying I'd get fat if I didn't stop, but they're so delicious, it's hard to control yourself."
Before Rosalie could protest about being left alone, George had disappeared into the crowd to search for the other refreshment table so she could try this 'fruit tart'.
It was funny, and she almost found it a bit cute that he was excited at the thought of her trying one of his favorite desserts. However, she also had a feeling that he wanted to find some of those tarts for himself.
Left alone now, Roslaie looked around, her face twisting at all the people mingling and their fancy attire.
She felt so out of place.
"Champagne, miss?" Asked a waiter, floating by with a tray full of sparkling, golden liquid in thin glasses.
Rosalie furrowed her brows, eyeing the glass.
She never had champagne before, as it was usually expensive and reserved for more high-class events, but she knew it was alcohol and that most loved it. As long as it didn't taste like whiskey, it couldn't have been too bad.
"Thank you," Rosalie said as she took a glass.
The waiter dashed off, leaving Rosalie alone again. She sipped at the champagne, pleasantly surprised at the taste, enjoying the bubbles. If only it wasn't so expensive, she would choose it over whiskey any day.
Two men engaged in hushed conversation behind her, their voices carrying over the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. Rosalie glanced over her shoulder curiously, their conversation seemingly secretive, intriguing her.
"...Colm O'Driscoll? Are you sure about this, William?" one of the men murmured, his tone laced with skepticism. "He and his brother are dangerous men. Outlaws."
"Absolutely," came the assured reply. "We've struck a deal with him. A sizable shipment of tobacco from the Caribbean will be arriving at Lake Catherine in a month's time. With that, we can undercut Montgomery and dominate the market. His business won't stand a chance."
Rosalie's heart skipped a beat as the gravity of their conversation sunk in. This must have been the man who those O'Driscolls were receiving the shipment for, or at least part of it. It seemed they were awaiting an even bigger one, though, one that it was likely Cormac and Colm would show up for themselves.
"We need to ensure Montgomery's downfall," the other man insisted, his voice tinged with determination. "With O'Driscoll's backing, we'll have the upper hand. It's time to sabotage his operations and seize control. I hate French people."
Rosalie downed the champagne glass, glancing over fully this time to see two, dark-haired men dressed in fine clothes. One, she knew as William from her eavesdropping, but she didn't catch their last name if it had been mentioned at all.
She would have to tell Dutch about this. The last shipment had gotten them cash, but they were really after Colm and Cormac. This could be their opportunity.
Before Rosalie could hear anything else, though, George came over with two small plates, both of them practically stacked to the brim with small pastries covered with fruit and cream.
"Here is yours…" he said, passing her the plate, before eagerly taking his pastry with his free hand and taking a large bite out of it.
Rosalie blinked at him, open-mouthed at how he dug into the pasty, a bit of cream on the corner of his mouth. He looked like he was in heaven as he chewed it, groaning a bit.
Feeling her eyes, he swallowed, glancing at her. "What?" He asked innocently.
Rosalie giggled with a shake of her head as she picked up her own tarte. "Oh, nothing."
She bit into it, and she realized why George was throwing such a fit about them, as it really was delicious. The fruit along with the cream and crust… she couldn't help herself as she groaned too.
"See," George raised his tart in her direction. "It's delicious."
Rosalie nodded as she licked her fingers, finishing the pastry. "It is good. I never ate many sweets as a girl because they were so expensive, but my Daddy would get them for me when he could because he knew I loved them so much. I had my first one in a long time the other day at the Cafe Eleanor found me in."
George nodded, already moving on to his next tarte. "I heard where she found you. The coffee there is good, but there's another cafe up the street that has amazing espresso." He raised a brow at her. "Do you like coffee?"
Rosalie nodded. "Oh, I love it. The espresso at that cafe though was unlike anything I've ever had, so I can't imagine something better."
George lowered his halfway-eaten tarte to the plate. He looked away, avoiding her gaze as his cheeks turned a bit red. "Well… if you would like… do you want me to take you to the cafe? O-only if you would like, that is. I know you must be busy–"
Rosalie smiled at him. "I would love to."
George looked at her, his cheeks still red, blinking owlishly at her. He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "Ahem, well, then perhaps… in a couple of days? I can pick you up wherever you're staying?"
Rosalie laughed. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. I can meet you downtown. By the bridge?"
George nodded slowly. "Alright… then… then I will meet you there."
Rosalie smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Okay."