Rose sat up slowly. The first thing she noticed was that she was still wearing her dress from the night before. It had been unbuttoned and her corset loosened, but otherwise all her clothing was still intact. Her shoes sat neatly side by side next to her bed. Her hair had been unpinned and brushed. The bathroom door was open and through it she could see her reflection in the mirror over the sink. The powder she wore to hide the bruise on her cheek had been washed off. When did I do that? she wondered. She tried to lift her hand to her face, but couldn't. Puzzled, she looked down and discovered her hand was tightly clasped in both of Jack's. His head rested on the edge of her bed. His body was slumped forward as though he'd started out on his knees and then slid down as he slept.
"Oh," she murmured as the memory of the night before set in. "I didn't do any of this. He did." She leaned back against the pillows. In the soft morning light, the events of the previous night felt more like a nightmare than reality. Except that it wasn't. It was real. She shuddered as Cal's face loomed before her. It was as if it were still happening. She felt his hot breath on her face, his weight pressing into her middle. His words echoed in her ears. "You are mine." Her stomach lurched as the memory of his hand invading her body washed over her. "I'm not!" she cried. "I'm not! I'm not!"
Jack's eyes flew open. He leapt onto the bed. "What's wrong?" She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "Rose, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice thick with love and anxiety. When she didn't answer, he gently put an arm around her shoulders. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said.
She buried her face in his shirt collar. "Jack, please, just hold me," she whispered. "Please. Just for a moment."
He wrapped the other arm around her. "I'll hold you forever."
He might very well have had Rose's stomach not begun to growl. Her cheeks reddened. She was glad he couldn't see her face. "Sounds like someone's hungry," he joked, just as his own stomach gave a rumble of its own. "And I guess it's me," he added.
Rose raised her head. "I can get you some food."
"It's okay," he said. "I can wait."
"But you don't have to," she insisted. "I can have some brought up."
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but she was already up and across the room before he could even get a word out. He watched, fascinated, as she rang for a servant. She grabbed a robe out of her wardrobe and pulled it on over her dress. "Do I look acceptable?" she asked, turning to him.
He nodded. "You look beautiful."
She smiled. "Thank you, but I was hoping she would believe I'm sick."
"Close your eyes a bit," he said. "Not quite squinting, though."
Rose did as he instructed. "Like this?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Now, kind of let your body go limp—no, not like that. Just move as though you're wading through maple syrup—yeah, like that."
A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door. Jack dove onto the floor and rolled under the bed. Holding his breath, he listened as Rose asked someone named Mary to bring her breakfast up to her room.
"Tell my mother I'm not feeling well," she said. "I need to rest after the party last night."
Mary nodded. "Yes, Miss."
"You can come out now," Rose said when the door was safely closed and locked behind her.
Jack slowly crawled out from under the bed. "Do you think she'll come see about you?"
She gave him a puzzled look. "Who?"
"Your mother. You said you were sick, so—"
"We don't have to worry about that," Rose said. "The most she'll do is send one of the servants up."
"That's…" Horrible, he wanted to say. But it didn't matter whether he said it or not. Rose could tell what he was thinking. It was written all over his face.
"It's just not how things are done," she explained. "Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't." They gazed at each other in silence until another soft knock sent Jack scrambling back under the bed.
"Breakfast," Rose said, dropping onto the floor next to the bed.
Jack crawled out. His eyes widened at the sight of the tray in front of him. "That's what you eat for breakfast?" he asked.
Rose avoided his eyes. "It's a bit lavish, I know," she said. "Does it bother you? I could—"
"It's fine," he said, touching her hand. "I just feel a bit underdressed," he added with a grin.
She smiled and handed him a fork. "I think you're dressed perfectly."
After a few bites, Jack wiped off the fork with a napkin and handed it back to her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, pushing it back into his hand.
"You're hungry, too," he said. "I can't just sit here and eat all of this knowing that." He opened her hand and put the fork into it.
"Jack, really—"
He shook his head. "I'm not taking another bite until you do." He crossed his arms over his chest.
She sighed. "Fine."
They had just finished having the last bite when they were startled by a knock at the door. "She must have sent someone up," Rose whispered. Jack nodded and dove under the bed. Rose grabbed the tray and hopped onto the bed. She made sure her robe was closed—and the previous night's dress hidden—before softly calling "Yes?"
"Miss, are you sure you can't come down?" Mary called. "Mr. Hockley is downstairs asking about you."
Jack's hands curled into fists. He swore under his breath. Rose's heart began beating faster. "Mary, would you come in here, please?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Close the door."
"What's wrong, Miss?" Mary asked. She laid a hand on Rose's forehead. "You're so pale."
Rose smiled weakly. "I have a headache. I just need to rest," she said. She lowered her voice. "Can you tell me what Mr. Hockley's mood is like today?"
Mary, who was more familiar with Cal than she would have liked, knew exactly what Rose wanted to know. "He seemed cheerful," she said. She avoided letting her eyes rest on Rose's bruised cheek. "Not at all angry or unpleasant."
Rose nodded. "Tell him I'll try to come down soon."
"Yes, Miss."
"And Mary?"
"Yes?"
"Don't let him come up here unless he sends you up to ask permission first."
"Yes, Miss. Are you finished with this?"
Rose nodded. "Yes, thank you."
When he heard the door click shut behind her, Jack crawled out of his hiding place. Rose was holding her head in her hands and murmuring to herself. He sat down next to her on the bed. "I won't let him hurt you again," he said. He touched her shoulder. "If I hadn't fallen out the window, he wouldn't have hurt you last night."
Rose raised her head. "I know we didn't plan it this way, but could we leave now?"
Jack looked at the window. "Do you trust me enough to let me carry you down on my back?"
She leaned forward and kissed him. "I trust you completely."
He nodded. "Okay. If you're sure."
"I am. I just need to change first."
Jack slowly paced her room. His eyes kept wandering over to the clock on the mantel. It had only been about five minutes since Rose disappeared into the bathroom, but it felt like hours had gone by. What are you doing?
Running away with the woman I love.
Yeah, okay, but to where? Did you forget you don't have anywhere to go? You were supposed to spend today working on that.
I'll figure somethin’ out.
He froze as he heard yet another knock on the door.
"Miss?" Mary called. Silence. She knocked again, harder this time. "Miss? It's about Mr. Hockley. He wants to come up."