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The Fosters were the richest family in Thebarton and the most likely to be able to afford a personal loan with a long repayment period. There were others who might be able to manage it, but Rosalie didn’t hold out much hope after her reception by the Fosters. She didn’t want to ask for assistance all over town if everyone would feel the same fear.

The townsfolk had been generous with small gifts—food from their gardens, game from the woods, outgrown clothes and shoes for the boys—but it was clear they thought of those in the same way Blythe did. A loan was another matter—it skirted too close to an investment.

Daphne would want to help, of course. But she didn’t have that kind of money herself. She might be able to convince her parents to give the loan—and Rosalie was almost desperate enough to let her try—except her parents were out of town and would be until after the payment deadline. So Rosalie was saved from imposing on her most loyal friend in order to rescue her brothers.

Rosalie groaned and rubbed her eyes. Her thoughts were going around in circles with no new solutions presenting themselves.

Desperation seized her. She thought she’d left her pride behind at the Fosters’ threshold, but she hadn’t fully let it go. She shouldn’t have rejected Blythe’s offer. The money might not be enough to cover the loan, but it was a start. Rosalie couldn’t afford to reject any help.

Turning her steps toward the Mortar and Pestle caused physical pain, but she forced herself to do it anyway. If she went to Blythe now—in front of all her old friends—Blythe would reinstate the offer. Even if she’d thought better of it already, she would be too pleased at seeing Rosalie humbled to refuse.

It was possible she was wronging Blythe in thinking that way. Blythe might be just as willing to accept Rosalie’s change of heart if she approached her alone. But this way was both safer and faster. It would ensure Rosalie didn’t go home to her brothers empty-handed.

Having made the decision, she increased her pace, giving proper attention to her surroundings for the first time. While her mind had been busy, her feet had led her deep into the town. She had some way to go to make it back to the central square, let alone the Mortar and Pestle. She increased her speed even further, impatient to get the coming ordeal over with. But she’d only made it a block before she noticed footsteps behind her.

Glancing back, she saw two unfamiliar men walking several lengths behind her. She sped up, and they did the same, maintaining the same distance.

Rosalie told herself it was a coincidence, but her racing heart was unconvinced. She tried harder. Thebarton was a large town, and she didn’t know the face of everyone who lived there. It was the afternoon, and bright sun was shining down on her. Why would someone even be following her anyway?

Still, she hurried even faster, stopping just short of a run. The men behind her increased their pace again.

Rosalie looked around desperately for help, but she had wandered into a quiet part of town far from the stores and workshops where people gathered during working hours. She debated breaking into a full run. Would such an obvious action provoke the men into seizing her?

The terror from two days ago swept over her. Blind panic crept in as the memories of her abduction stole her remaining rationality. She had to get away before it happened again.

She broke into a run but only made it two steps before she ran headlong into a man stepping out from a narrow side street. He seized her arm, and before she could scream or even process what was happening, he dragged her into the alley.

Her new assailant pushed her against the brick wall of one of the buildings. Keeping his grip on her upper arm, he pressed his other hand over her mouth. Rosalie’s breath heaved, and her eyes widened as she stared into a familiar face. Jace.

She had been terrified almost out of her wits a moment ago, but seeing Jace steadied her. She was still trapped and alone, but the rising fury burned off the unreasoning fog. She was still afraid, but she was also angry, and her ability to think had returned.

She reached up and pried his hand off her mouth.

“What are you doing?” she spat at him. “Are you seriously trying to abduct me in the middle of Thebarton?”

Jace smiled, the expression filling her with disgust. “Abduct you? No, of course not! I let you walk away, remember?”

Rosalie remained silent, fuming. She remembered it all too well.

Jace let go of her arm, but he leaned his left hand against the wall beside her, creating a makeshift barrier between her and the main street beyond. “I just want to talk,” he said plaintively.

Rosalie could have pushed him away and run, but she hadn’t forgotten the men behind her. They must have been Jace’s men,and they were probably still lurking on the main street. Now that she was no longer ruled by unthinking fear, she didn’t want to act hastily.

Jace wanted something, but she didn’t think it was to harm her—not immediately anyway. Her pride wanted to turn her back on him and stalk away, but her family’s situation was desperate enough that she needed to hear what he had to say. If she was going to find a way out, she needed as much information as possible.

“Spit it out, then,” she said coldly.

“I’m hurt.” Jace pretended to look wounded. “You always liked talking to me in the past.” He gave a self-satisfied smile that made Rosalie want to kick some sense into her past self. Or perhaps just kick him.

“Talk now or I’m leaving,” she growled.

Jace smirked but dropped the playacting.

“I just wanted to make sure you got my message,” he said.

Rosalie’s glare turned even icier. “Next time, if you have something to say to me, say it yourself. Don’t send a message through my brothers. They’re only children.”

Jace chuckled. “I don’t think they’d agree with that assessment. Don’t you remember being thirteen?” His face twisted. “They’ve always been remarkably annoying youths, though.” He looked back at her, and his face hardened. “Don’t imagine I’ll go easy on them because of their age. In three days I either receive that money, or…” He reached out and took a lock of her wavy hair, winding it around his finger. “Or a rose. I’m sure that charming suitor of yours will be more than happy to oblige your brother for a single rose.”