Rosalie retracts her gloved hand, swallowing. She tries to mask the awkwardness of it being left hanging there by bringing it up to her throat, to fiddle with her necklace prettily but self-consciously.

She wants to snap at him. She wants to tell him exactly what she thinks of him, in no uncertain terms.

But she is a lady. And this is her greatest pride, despite the fact that it requires her restraint. She is perfect. She's what every man would want. And it would not be proper to try to stand up to this young man in any direct manner. So she doesn't.

It's what makes her better than him.

She is able to mask her rage almost completely, except for the flush that continues to color her cheeks. But it works perfectly to her advantage... She flutters her eyelashes, angling her gaze slightly downward, pretending to be bewildered.

"Rosalie Hale." Her tone is appropriately timid, though fury is what makes it waver. She curtsies slightly.

Everyone is watching. And she's just made Edward seem like the most heartless man in all of Rochester.