The next morning, Rosalind was the first to wake.
She had hardly slept at all, and when she finally opened her eyes, a sore throat greeted her, the painful reminder of everything that had happened the night before.
Her body felt weak, especially her knees, and she could still feel the ache from kneeling for so long.
Carefully, she lifted Alaric's arm from around her waist, moving slowly enough not to wake him before slipping out of the bed. She didn't even spare him a glance as she quickly went to find her coat and hurriedly slipped it on before making her way toward the door as silently as she could. She wanted nothing more than to avoid facing Alaric this morning.
The moment Rosalind stepped out of the room, her gaze fell on her footman, who had been standing there since the night before, waiting for her. Shame immediately washed over her at the thought that he must have heard everything that had happened inside, every humiliating moment of how she had been disgraced. She swallowed instinctively, only to instantly regret it when pain shot through her throat.
Without saying a word, she began to walk away from him, and he silently fell into step behind her as she made her way back to her quarters.
The moment she got inside, she hurried straight to the bath chamber and bent over the basin, rinsing her mouth again and again.
The memory of what Alaric had made her do the night before resurfaced so vividly that she kept rinsing, again and again, only to find that the bitter taste still lingered stubbornly on her tongue.
Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at herself in the mirror.
For a moment, Rosalind barely recognized the woman staring back at her.
She had always carried herself with pride and dignity, but after last night, it felt as though every part of that had been torn away from her.
When she returned to the room, her legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the floor. Pulling her knees close to her chest, she buried her face against them, yet no tears came, even though she desperately wished to cry. She didn't know how long she remained there like that until the walls of the room suddenly began to feel too close and she realized she needed air.
Rosalind changed into another dress before putting her coat back on as she was certain it would be cold outside. Then she stepped out of her room.
"I want to go to the garden," she said quietly to her footman.
He lowered his head in response, and together they began walking toward it.
The garden was alive with beauty. Flowers bloomed in every corner, the fountain shimmered softly, birds chirped from the trees, and butterflies drifted lazily through the air. The grounds had already been cleaned, and soon Rosalind found herself walking slowly along the soft grass, her fingers brushing over flowers and trailing across leaves.
It should have brought her comfort.
It should have made her smile.
But instead, she only felt empty.
Her fingers continued to graze the leaves as she walked past without truly seeing any of them until she came upon a concrete seat. Letting out a soft sigh, she sat down and stared blankly into nothingness.
Being here was harder than she had thought.
She didn't know how long she had remained seated there while Rowan stood quietly behind her, keeping his usual distance.
He noticed immediately that the lady seemed unusually quiet this morning. She wasn't irritated, nor was she sharp-tongued the way she usually was whenever he followed her around.
She just seemed… different.
Still, whatever was troubling her, his duty remained the same.
After some time, Rowan's gaze lifted toward the sky when he noticed the weather beginning to change. The leaves rustled as the wind picked up, and when he saw the dark clouds gathering above, it confirmed his suspicion.
His gaze returned to Rosalind. "Please head inside, my lady. The rain is about to fall," he said.
But Rosalind did not move.
It was as though she hadn't even heard him, though she had. She simply did not have the strength to go back.
Soon, the first droplet fell against her cheek, followed by another. "My lady, it isn't safe to remain outside in the rain," Rowan repeated after a while.
Still, Rosalind said nothing. She remained seated, staring into the distance as though lost somewhere far away from the garden.
A moment later, she heard retreating footsteps, and her gaze narrowed slightly.
So he had left.
Of course he had.
He had probably gone to find shelter for himself.
At least now she knew she was truly alone in this place, and the thought settled heavily in her chest. At that realization, her eyes began to sting, and before she could stop it, tears started slipping silently down her cheeks.
The rain began to fall in soft droplets, one after the other, until it threatened to pour properly.
And yet, not a single drop touched Rosalind.
Because contrary to what she had assumed, her footman had not abandoned her.
Quietly, Rowan had gone to fetch an umbrella, and now he stood behind her once more, holding it above her while the rain crashed down on him instead.
Rosalind wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She had truly thought he was going to leave, and she hadn't expected him to come back for her. The way he had quietly left her to herself without disturbing her at all left her unsure of what exactly to make of it.
Luckily, the rain wasn't heavy enough to become unbearable for Rowan. It was only a slight shower, but the lady had been completely shielded from it. Meanwhile, his own clothes had grown damp and his hair was wet as the cold slowly seeped into his body, yet he barely seemed to feel it. He had endured far worse than this, and a little rain was hardly an inconvenience.
As the rain gradually began to ease, the sun slowly peeked through the clouds again, casting light across the garden. The moment Rowan saw that the weather had cleared, he quietly pulled the umbrella back.
****
Meanwhile, in Alaric's chamber, he had finally woken up, and his mood seemed unusually good as the memory of how his little Rosalind had pleased him the night before returned to him.
She had done so well that it made him want to reward her, to encourage her to do even more for him.
He realised she hadn't been in the room when he woke, and he naturally assumed she had left out of shyness, never once considering that it had been disgust and shame that drove Rosalind from his bed.
As he sat up, his eyes narrowed slightly when he suddenly remembered that he did have something his little Rosalind might like.
Without wasting another moment, he rose from the bed and walked toward the table where he had last placed the box.
Only to find it gone.
His gaze darkened instantly.
Who had dared steal from him? The thought thundered violently in his mind.