Rose paced her room. She forced herself to stop biting the nail of her thumb. The poor thing was sore as chipped but it was hard to do when her only plan had just come crashing down on her face.
Thomas would have been nice to even properly refuse her, not walk out on her—but she didn't expect anything less from the pompous, spoiled lord. He was somewhat nicer now but he was still an annoying brat.
She wrapped her arms around herself. She was out of time. Tomorrow, they will leave for Futherfield. Things had been awfully quiet, and she hadn't seen the crown prince in a while.
Should she go to him? Was that really her only option—to rely on the jerk? Rose sighed. She could do it, for her mother. It wasn't that she couldn't, but who was to say he wouldn't tell her no just to spite her?
