Rosalie finished weaving her hair into a thick plait, the ends of her hair hitting her mid back as she flicked it over her shoulder and placed her father's black cowboy hat on her head. She meandered over to the outside of her tent where she left her fishing pole and a tin of bait. She stuck the tin under her arm and shifted the pole against her shoulder as she walked over to the fire.
"I'm going fishing," Rosalie said to Dutch, Hosea, and Susan who sat around the fire on boxes or a log. Dutch smoked a cigar, his gaze shifting to her as she walked over while Hosea read his book.
Susan ran a thread through one of John's trousers. She made a face, looking up from her work. "And why is that? I asked you to clean the shirts in that bin over there." She said, pointing to the pile of soapy shirts hanging outside the bucket and against the washboard.
"Those aren't my clothes?" Rosalie said with a raised brow as though Susan had asked a dumb question. "Why would I clean something that isn't mine?"
Susan's gaze narrowed. "Because we all gotta chip in, Miss."
"I do chip in. By hunting and fishing, along with bringing leads to the table that get us money." Rosalie snapped back, her grip tightening around the fishing pole against her shoulder. "I brought back those rabbits we ate last night. No one else brought anything for lunch either. That was me!"
Susan scoffed. "I don't care what you brought back for lunch or dinner. You need to help with other chores around here to earn your keep."
Rosalie's face screwed up in irritation. "What are you talking about?! How come you're getting on to me? Arthur hasn't been here at all, and at least I'm doing something—!"
"I don't care what Arthur has been doing, Miss, that has nothing to do with you!" Susan snapped, getting to her feet now. The trousers hung by her hand, the thread in the other as she met her stare head-on.
Hosea sighed and shook his head, refusing to get involved as he looked down at his book. John came around from the other side of the tent he shared with Arthur, his gun holster in hand and a rag in the other. He had been busy cleaning it but came to see what the commotion was.
Dutch sighed and rubbed between his eyes with his thumb, the smoking cigar between his fingers. He looked between the two women with a pained expression. "Please, ladies, can we not shout at one another? Is gettin' along so hard?" He asked in exasperation.
"Dutch, would you please tell her she needs to chip in more?! We can't be supportin' freeloaders!" Susan cried, throwing her hand up with the trousers in Rosalie's direction.
This set Rosalie off. Susan was a fine woman, most of the time, but wow, could she be downright nasty.
"Freeloader?!" Rosalie cried, looking at Susan as though she had grown two heads. "I was here before you, mind you! I bring in leads, like I just said if you would open your damn ears! Leads, that bring you money, that pays for your shit! Along with food that keeps you from starving!" She shouted, her cheeks turning red from anger.
Dutch stood and waved his hands in the open air, stepping between the two women like he was fending off wild animals from attacking one another. "Ladies! Please! Enough!"
Hosea grimaced and looked up from his book. He placed his hand on his knee and glanced between the two, before his gaze settled on Grimshaw. "Just leave the girl alone, Susan. She ain't gonna be here washin' dishes with you 'cause she's proved herself useful in other ways. I'm sorry, but you gotta let this rest." He said.
Susan scoffed and rolled her eyes, about to argue with him, but Dutch shook his head, cutting her off before she could begin her sentence.
"Enough of this," Dutch glanced over to John and nodded in Rosalie's direction. "John, go with Rosalie. You know how to fish, son?" he asked.
John shook his head no. Dutch nodded. "Okay then. Rosalie, you can teach him, yes?"
Rosalie nodded and leaned back, her temper calming now that both Hosea and Dutch had told off Susan. "Yeah, I can teach him," she said.
"Good. John, go with her." Dutch said. He seated himself back on the log with a deep sigh and took a long drag from his cigar.
Susan scoffed and shook her head, tossing John's trousers over the log beside Dutch. She spun on her heel and walked around the campfire, marching away from the group to cool off. There was a tense silence in the air before Rosalie shook her head and let out a huff.
What a sour woman.
"Cut Miss Grimshaw some slack, Rosalie," Dutch said idly, looking off into the distance again. "She jus' wants the camp to run like a well-oiled machine."
Rosalie rolled her eyes. "It's not like there's twenty of us. Things were just fine before she showed up."
"Be nice," Hosea said, not even bothering to look up from his book to scold her.
Rosalie huffed, but didn't say anything more to them on the subject of Miss Grimshaw. She glanced over to John and waved him over. "C'mon! Let's go!"
Rosalie began walking over to Blitz, John hot on her heels, their boots scraping against the tall, dry grass as they walked. She set her rod and bait on the ground and began saddling her horse, talking to the black stallion under her breath to comfort him as she did so. Blitz snorted in appreciation as she ran her hand over his neck before feeding him a peppermint.
"You know anything about fishing?" Rosalie asked John as he came up to her. She folded her pole and stuck it into Blitz's saddle bag along with the tin.
"No, I've never been fishin' before. I don't know a thing," John said, watching as she stuck her foot in the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle. He followed soon after, sliding atop Blitz behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
Rosalie grabbed Blitz's reins and turned him out of camp, digging her heels into his sides as she urged him into a trot. She smiled over her shoulder at John. "Well, that's why I'm here. It's fun, so don't you worry." She said.
After a short ride, Rosalie arrived at a small, tree-covered fishing hole she had discovered a week earlier. She came here a few times on her own to enjoy her own company. It was nice; she could stick the rod in the dirt and just enjoy the waterfront. If she was feeling a little more daring, she could wade a little ways into the pond and see if she could catch anything up close. It was rare that she did that, but if she felt like changing things up, it was a nice option.
Though she learned pretty quickly to stay away from certain bodies of water due to the population of gators… she really hated Lemoyne.
Pulling Blitz to a stop near the waterhole, she dropped off her saddle and took her rod from the bag. Patting Blitz's neck as she walked by, she made her way over to the waterhole, John trailing behind her.
"Be careful where you step," Rosalie said, rolling her sleeves higher as they neared the hole, wet vegetation and tufts of marshy grass littering the ground. The mud squished underneath their boots. "There's gators around here, so pay attention."
John turned a shade paler. "Gators?!"
"You have your revolver on you, right?" Rosalie called over her shoulder with a raised brow. "Then you'll be fine."
John grimaced and looked around his feet as he walked, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that looked too large or too scaly to be a rock. "I ain't ever seen a gator before." He murmured.
Rosalie walked up to the waterhole, a few skipping bugs skimming the surface and creating water ripples as they went. There was the faint buzzing of other nats and annoying flies in the air. Rosalie swatted at one idly as she set the tin of bait at her feet and undid her fishing pole.
John grimaced as he came over and stared warily at the water. He shifted closer to her, careful not to get too close to the edge. A rock tumbled off and plopped into the water. The drop wasn't very large, but the water hole looked relatively deep.
"Since you don't have a pole, you can just use mine," Rosalie said, taking a cricket and sliding it onto the hook at the end of the line. She glanced over to John, raising a brow at his gaze fixated on the water, but didn't comment on it, instead getting to her feet and passing him the pole.
John took the pole and held it like a foreign object. He was clearly uncomfortable with it due to his lack of experience fishing. Rosalie laughed and stood behind him, holding the pole around his hands.
"It's really not that hard. Some people would even call this boring, but I think it's fun," Rosalie said, fixating herself behind John to help him cast the line.
"If you say so," John murmured, his brows furrowed as Rosalie grabbed the pole and reared her shoulders back, moving him with her, before swinging forward, the line casting out into the water.
"There!" Rosalie cheered as she stepped away. She patted John on the shoulder with a proud smile. "You cast your first line! See, it isn't too hard."
A grin started to tug at John's lips. He laughed a little. "H-Hey, yeah! This ain't too hard!"
"Let's just make sure we bring something back. I don't wanna fight with Susan again," Rosalie said, pulling a cigarette from her pocket and sticking it between her lips. She struck a match and lit her cigarette, before shaking the flame out and throwing it into the water.
"Yeah, I don't think anyone wants to hear y'all fightin' again," John grumbled. He swatted a nat that came too close to his face.
Rosalie heard him but didn't comment on it.
Susan had been pissing her off more than usual lately. She thought they were on better terms after Susan intervened with Arthur the other night, but apparently not. Susan was still as downright nasty as ever. She was a unique character, that was for certain, and Rosalie wasn't sure what to think of her.
Placing her hand on her hip, she took a drag from her cigarette and watched as John held the fishing pole. It twitched slightly, the line being pulled underneath the surface. She nodded toward the waterhole once she spotted the tugging.
"Now reel in the line. If the fish starts to fight back, you gotta tug on the line before you reel it in, okay?" Rosalie said, watching as John began tugging on the line to get ahold of the fish.
John grunted, his footing slipping as he tried to get ahold of whatever was pulling so hard. The rod bounced up and down, the wood groaning in protest. Whatever was on the other end of that line was not letting up so easily.
"Uh, t-this ain't working!" He cried, his eyes wide as the pole jerked forward out of his hands and into the water below. John lost his balance from the strong pull and stumbled forward. He cried out, skirting against the rock, small pebbles breaking off and tumbling into the water.
The cigarette between her lips partially forgotten, Rosalie lunged forward to grab hold of him. Her fingers skimmed his shirt collar. John tumbled forward into the water with a scream, landing in the watering hole with a splash. Water flew everywhere. Rosalie cried out and shielded herself from the spray with her arms.
"John?!" Rosalie cried, rushing over to the edge of the rock, her eyes skimming the water.
"H-help!" John cried, thrashing about in the watering hole like a wild animal. "I-I can't swim!"
Rosalie groaned and threw her hands up. "You can't swim?!" She cried in exasperation, tossing her cigarette and her hat to the side.
Without wasting a second, she jumped off the rock and into the water with a great splash. She swam over to John, who was still flailing his arms about and wailing. Rosalie grabbed him and tucked him against her side, holding him upright as she waded the water.
John breathed heavily, his skin pale and exhaustion littering his features from the close run-in he had with drowning. Rosalie breathed just as hard, looking around for her pole.
"Where the hell did that thing even go?" She asked, turning to see if she could spot the wooden pole bobbing near them.
"I don't know, but I jus' wanna get on dry land!" John whined, holding onto her for dear life. "Who cares 'bout the pole?!"
"I do!" Rosalie cried with exasperation.
There was a low bellowing sound behind them. John shrieked and slapped Rosalie's arms to get her attention.
"G-Gator!?"
Rosalie glanced over her shoulder to see a large, scaly gator with its beady, reptilian eyes staring at them over the surface of the water. Her fishing pole floated by, snapped in half pathetically.
Rosalie's mouth went dry, her eyes widening at the sight of the scaly gator staring at them like they were its next meal. "Oh shit," She muttered, her chest tightening with fear and her blood running cold.
Slowly, Rosalie began to back up towards the shore, continuing to hold John against her side as she tried to put as much distance between herself and the gator as possible without disturbing the water too much. If the gator hadn't noticed them, she wanted to keep it that way. But from the way it was looking at them, she doubted that was the case.
The gator bellowed deeply, sliding across the water and starting to pick up speed. John screamed and held onto her arm. He dug his fingernails into her skin.
"Don't let me go! Don't let me go!' John screamed, eyes blown wide in fear.
"Oh shit! Oh shit!" Rosalie gasped, hurriedly swimming through the water backward. Water splashed as she pushed her way through the watering hole toward the shore.
"I-it's getting closer!" John shrieked.
"Dammit!" Rosalie shouted, drawing her revolver and firing at the gator as she continued to move backward.
With John tucked against her side and her other arm firing shots at the gator, she was having a hell of a time getting away. Her legs burned from how hard she was kicking toward the shore. Even with her effort, she was barely moving.
Rosalie's bullets landed in the gator and it groaned in pain, but it continued pushing forward, its jaws opening as it neared them. Rosalie's feet touched the ground as they reached the shallow end of the watering hole. She scrambled up the shore and fired again, the gator's jaws wide and ready to clamp down on them.
John shrieked and held onto her. Rosalie fired one last shot, the bullet hitting the gator between the eyes. It slumped to the ground merely feet from them and flung mud in the air, letting out one last bellow before it took its last breath.
Rosalie and John huffed, John still tucked against her side and holding onto her like his life depended on it. They were both soaked, water dripping from their clothes and hair. A puddle began to form beneath them from all the water sliding off their hair and clothes.
There was a beat of silence as they caught their breath.
"...Can we eat gator?" John asked, looking up at her shakily. "I know it ain't a fish, but…"
Rosalie breathed out a laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. "Well, uh, I don't see why not."
After skinning the gator to the best of her ability, the tough scales hard to slice through with her knife, they took the meat they could along with its scales and piled it onto Blitz. The horse wasn't too happy about carrying the gator pieces, but he took it like a champ once Rosalie fed him a sugar cube and they were off.
Upon riding into camp, Dutch and Hosea looked at them in bewilderment, eyeing their soaking wet clothes and the strange meat strapped to her horse.
"What the hell happened to you?" Dutch asked, rising from his log and coming over to them, Hosea trailing behind him with his book in hand.
Rosalie let out a breathy laugh and dropped off her saddle, John sliding to the ground beside her. She shook her head and glanced over to Dutch, her hands on her saddle.
"John needs to learn how to swim." She said flatly.
Hosea snorted. "Did he fall in?"
John grimaced, coming around the horse and scrunching the water out of his hair that hung around his face in wet, stringy strands. "I didn't fall in! There was a gator that grabbed me n' pulled me in." He said.
Dutch raised a brow. "A gator?"
"Yeah!" John cried. "I got pulled in n' Rosie jumped in after me, then we turned around and bam! The gator was there! He started chasing us, but she grabbed me and started swimm' away while shootin' at it! She shot it right before it got us."
Hosea laughed, looking at Dutch. "Well, ain't that some fishin' trip."
Rosalie gestured to the gator stowed on the back of Blitz. "I didn't get any fish, but I brought back some gator meat. Thought we could eat that."
"Never had gator before, but food is food I reckon," Dutch said, coming around to the back of her horse and starting to remove the skin and meat she tied there.
Rosalie's clothes were soaking wet and bloody, along with her hands and knife. She grimaced, looking down at her appearance. "If you guys wanna take care of that gator, I'm gonna go clean up because… this is disgusting. Got my nice shirt all dirty." She grumbled, eyeing the splotch of mud and gator guts that covered the bottom of her shirt.
Hosea sent her a sideways look. "I think that would be a good idea. You too, John. You both smell like swamp water."
Rosalie snorted as she trudged over to her tent. "I wonder why that is?!" She called over her shoulder playfully.
Hosea waved her off and didn't even bother to retort back.
Once she had cleaned up and changed her clothes, she walked back into camp with her dirty belongings, blinking at the sight of Arthur in an intense discussion with Hosea and Dutch. She didn't pay them much mind at first, walking over to her tent and discarding the dirty items there, before she came over to them.
"Is everything okay?" Rosalie asked, running her fingers through her wet, curly hair that was now clean.
Hosea looked at her wearily, sharing a look with Dutch that Arthur was ignorant of.
"I've uh…" Arthur wrung his hands together, tilting his head down as he spoke in a low voice. "I've uh, asked Mary Gillis to marry me…n' she said yes."
Rosalie blinked, her lips parting subconsciously as she looked at Arthur.
Arthur had asked Mary… to marry him. He was going to marry her? They were engaged?
A tense silence hung in the air, one that Arthur didn't seem to understand, but both Dutch and Hosea were privy to. Arthur played with his hands to avoid looking at her.
"Marry you," Rosalie said flatly, her expression turning blank.
"Yes," Arthur nodded, the corner of his mouth twisting.
While he didn't quite understand what her change attitude was for, he could tell enough that there was something wrong with her tone about the news of his proposal.
"So what does that mean, then?" Rosalie asked, still being careful not to reveal too much about how she felt. "That you're gonna stay here with her?"
Arthur shook his head with a pathetic shrug. "Well I uh–I don't know yet, to be honest. I jus' know I love this woman and I wanna marry her. Ain't that enough?" He asked in a weakened voice. From his expression, it was obvious he had just been berated with the same question by both Hosea and Dutch.
Rosalie's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel a burning in her eyes from tears that wanted to fall, but she was careful not to let them. She didn't want to make her pain too obvious. Just as Susan said before; she had already made herself look like enough of a fool when it came to Arthur.
Instead of crying or throwing a fit, she walked over to Arthur and patted his arm with a weak smile.
"Well, I hope it all goes well," Rosalie said, before walking away towards Blitz who was still saddled from her fishing trip with John earlier.
Sliding her foot into the stirrup and swinging herself into the saddle, she turned Blitz out of camp and dug her heels into his sides with a loud yip, sending him into a trot toward town.
The grass kicked up under Blitz's hooves as she rode, her fingers curling around the reins as she sniffled, doing her best not to let the tears fall.
She wouldn't let herself cry over him. Not any longer. Not when he was so utterly in love with Mary that he could barely give Rosalie the time of day. Arthur didn't look at her in that way. Not romantically. Maybe he never did. She felt stupid and deluded by her emotions.
What was it that made her so undesirable? Rosalie thought that Arthur liked her. She was so certain of his feelings all those weeks ago in Tennessee that she would have kissed him. But… but it seemed whatever inkling of emotions he held for her, if he ever did have any, wasn't enough, as Mary had his heart the moment they met. Rosalie didn't stand a chance.
Coming to a stop in a field some ways away from camp, Rosalie sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her wrist. Tears rushed fully down her cheeks as she allowed herself to cry.
This was all just a little crush anyway, right? Then why did it hurt so bad?
Maybe it was just the thought of someone loving her in that way. The butterflies, the shy smiles, and the lingering touches. Those moments they shared meant something. At least to her, they did.
Arthur had actually made her feel happy since the death of her father. There was a different kind of warmth and comfort he offered that wasn't the same as the sibling love she shared with John or the parental love she had with Dutch and Hosea. It was different with Arthur. He made her feel warm and giddy—a good, pleasant emotion in the midst of her grief that felt like it was threatening to swallow her whole some days.
That was why her feelings for him were so important to her. How he smelled as they sat by the fire, or when he would lean in to light her cigarette and meet her eyes over the flame. Arthur offered comfort in a way she hadn't experienced before, from his small acts of kindness to the dry, playful jokes that made her laugh despite the grief overshadowing most of her thoughts.
All of it was just acts of friendly companionship to him. But to her, it was more than that.
Rosalie felt like an idiot for it.
While she got to experience them, those feelings were nice. The giddiness. The smiles she wore around him. The bumping of shoulders by the fire and racing through the fields on their horses.
Rosalie could only imagine how George felt when she turned down his proposal. It probably felt similar to this.
With the added thought, Rosalie began to cry harder, sniffling as she sat atop her horse, the tears continuing to fall.
Rosalie just felt so guilty. Why was it so hard for things to work out the way they should? It would be easier if she just loved George. Then she could move into his nice, warm brick house at the end of the road, visit her grandfather in the evenings, take strolls with Julie, and talk about books with Louis. Why couldn't she just be like a normal lady? Why couldn't she be satisfied like every other woman in the world?
That alone made her feel even more guilty.
She had been offered an amazing opportunity to marry a wealthy man and have the rest of her life set for her. Yet she turned him down to… have freedom? To most, that would seem ridiculous. Plenty of women would kill for her position. But Rosalie couldn't do that to George. She couldn't trap him in a marriage with her and delude him into thinking she shared his affections. She knew she did the right thing by not accepting his proposal, but she still felt so guilty for it.
Why couldn't Rosalie just be normal?
Feeling like she had nowhere to go, as she didn't want to go to camp to face Arthur, or go to see George, she rode to the Spanish district and slid off her horse after she had hitched him. Pulling her hat off her head, she walked inside of Isabella's store, unable to help her sniffling as she walked inside.
Isabella sat at the counter and stitched a vest. She looked up at the sound of someone entering, her eyes widening in alarm at the sight of Rosalie. She set down the vest and needle and rushed around the counter to grab onto her arm. Isabella's brown eyes darted around Rosalie's red, splotchy face from how hard she had been crying.
"¿Qué pasó?! What's with the tears?" Isabella asked, leading her over to the counter and guiding her into the seat.
Rosalie sniffed and set her hat on the counter. She placed her face in her hands and cried, feeling like an idiot and embarrassed for breaking down in front of someone else. Despite how embarrassed she was, she needed the support of a friend. She didn't know what to think or where to go.
"S-sorry for coming here. I hope your Momma doesn't get mad again i-if she sees me. I don't want you t-to get in trouble–" Rosalie said between her shivering breaths, continuing to cry.
Isabella scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Idiota. I'm not going to be mad, okay? If my Mama comes in here and sees you I'll tell her off. Now tell me what's wrong? Why are you crying so hard?" She asked, pulling up another stool and sitting beside her.
"Arthur is engaged." Rosalie spat, sniffing as she pulled down her hands.
"To Mary?" Isabella asked with wide eyes.
"Who else?!" Rosalie cried, throwing her hands up. "Certainly not to me!"
Isabella shushed her gently and rubbed her back as Rosalie continued to cry. She frowned, her eyes sad. "I'm so sorry."
"It is what it is," Rosalie muttered, sniffling as her tears began to subside. Her cheeks were red and her eyes puffy as she stared into space. There was silence as Isabella continued to rub her back and allow Rosalie to sort out her thoughts.
"I just don't get it," Rosalie began slowly, furrowing her brows. "I don't understand any of this. I thought he liked me… and I just feel so stupid. He loves Mary enough to be engaged within just a month of knowing her. I know that's not uncommon, but I've known Arthur for almost half a year now and he hasn't done… so much of anything." She rubbed the side of her face, her frown deepening. "Is there something wrong with me?"
Isabella didn't respond at first. She wore an expression of deep thought, before she gave Rosalie a small, pained smile. "I'm sorry that you're hurting. Arthur seems like an ignorant idiot, but you can't control what he does or how he feels. I think the obvious answer… is to move on from him." She said gently. "You deserve someone who looks at you the way you look at them, just as I said before, no?"
Rosalie nodded slowly, blinking away the burning in her eyes. She looked down at her hands that rested on the counter and fidgeted with her fingers. "I know. It just… it hurts. It hurts to see something there that isn't."
"I'm sure," Isabella said gently, brushing the loose curls over Rosalie's shoulder. "But I'm also sure that there's someone out there who will love you for who you are. You're quite the peculiar woman, with a peculiar lifestyle, and a peculiar past. There's plenty of peculiar men for that," She teased, grinning at her now.
Rosalie laughed and rubbed her face to get rid of the splotches. "Yeah, I guess so. I just want to stop getting so upset over this, you know? I don't enjoy feeling this way."
Isabella smiled at her sadly. "I know. You can stay here as long as you need."
The door opened. Rosalie straightened and cleared her throat, trying to make it look as though she didn't have a meltdown a moment ago. She didn't need to be even more embarrassed than she had been today.
Isabella stood up from the counter and walked around to greet whoever had come in. When she saw who it was, she greeted them excitedly, her giddy voice surprising Rosalie.
Rosalie set her hat on her head and looked up, blinking at the sight of her cousin Louis, dressed in a crisp dark green shirt and an expensive, black vest. Isabella's hand rested on his arm, her expression gentle as she looked at him, before glancing over to Rosalie.
Louis's eyes were wide at the sight of Rosalie. He definitely did not expect to see her from his reaction, turning a shade paler. "Rosalie…?" he asked in shock.
"Louis…?" Roslaie said, her gaze lingering on the placement of Isabella's hand, before drifting between the two of them. They seemed very familiar with each other from how close they stood.
Isabella gave her an innocent smile, though there was something mischievous to it as she met Rosalie's gaze. "You asked if you would ever get to meet the man who captivated my attention… well, it seems you already had, as he's your cousin." She said a bit cheekily.
Louis's face twisted in anxiety. "I'm sure you can already tell, but Grandfather doesn't know about us… I think he would be up in arms if he ever found out… so if you wouldn't mind…"
"My lips are sealed," Rosalie said immediately, her gaze bouncing between the two. She blinked, her brain still trying to process that the man Isabella had been seeing the entire time was Louis.
Rosalie wasn't sure who she expected this mystery man she was seeing to be, but it certainly was not her cousin. Sure, there was that one time that she came upon Louis and George on their way to the Spanish district, but she hadn't anticipated that the reason they were coming this way was to see Isabella.
It was no wonder he kept it a secret though. From the very first meeting her grandfather thought it important enough to mention how much he hated Spaniards. Charlie was a good man who had spoken about his mistakes when it came to keeping her mother and father apart, but she wasn't sure she would feel the same way about Louis and Isabella, unfortunately.
"Does anyone else know about you guys?" Rosalie asked, looking between the two of them.
Isabella smiled at her. "George Langley is the only other person who knows. He's a good friend to Louis." She said.
"I heard about his proposal to you," Louis said suddenly, frowning at her. "I'm sorry that it didn't work out. I think he expected it, though."
Rosalie gave him a small, sad smile in return, trying to ignore the guilt in her heart at the mention of George. "Well, I hope he finds someone who will care about him in the way I couldn't. He's a good man." She said softly.
Louis nodded, placing his hand on top of Isabella's and patting it gently. He looked down at her lovingly, the pure adoration in his eyes as he met her gaze. It was painfully obvious that he loved her with his entire heart.
"I'm sure he will," Louis said gently as he continued to look down at Isabella. "I never thought I would love, especially when my father left my mother, but I found Isabella and I promised myself I'd never let her go."
Rosalie furrowed her brows. "Your father left your mother?"
It was true that Eleanor hadn't mentioned a husband or being romantically involved with anyone. Rosalie hadn't connected the dots before, but it was odd that Eleanor had the last name Montgomery, along with her children, assuming that she had them while married. Louis and Julie's father had left their mother?
Louis looked over at Rosalie knowingly. "It seems you haven't realized… or no one has mentioned it to you. My father was a bastard. Ran off with some woman when I was five and Julie was three. He didn't want to be part of high society life anymore and had an affair. I thought that… that love was a fabrication, that it didn't really exist… but then I met Isabella."
Isabella leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, before pulling away from him and coming over to the counter Rosalie sat at. Louis was practically glowing from her affection, his eyes trailing after Isabella as she went.
Isabella leaned against the counter and placed her chin in her hand. "My Mama doesn't know either. She'd probably have a heart attack if she found out I was with Louis." She glanced over at him as he came to stand beside her.
Louis brushed a piece of dark hair out of Isabella's face and just smiled at her, "Despite the problems our families have, we still love each other. I'm not sure what we plan to do in the future… but we'll figure something out." He said confidently, his eyes full of love.
Rosalie couldn't help the swell in her chest as she watched how full of adoration Louis was as he looked upon Isabella. It was painfully obvious how much he cared for her, and how much Isabella loved him from the way she smiled softly and leaned into his touches.
Rosalie had the fleeting thought that it was impossible for someone to carry love like that for her.