Chapter Eight
21 September 1822
Teatime
R ockford arrived with a large bouquet of lavender, roses, dahlias, and chrysanthemums, all in shades of purple. He engaged the bell pull, and when the footman answered the door, he handed him his calling card.
He was ushered into the drawing room. Lora’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the flowers. “Your Grace, these are beautiful! Thank you.”
“I thought you might enjoy them. You did say lavender was your favorite.”
Lora took the bouquet, her smile radiant. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I want to bring these to Mrs. Kelly.”
Alone, Rockford took in the room. It was furnished with a refined touch. The walls were covered with delicate pink and cream floral wallpaper that included touches of green. A grand fireplace framed with a carved mantel was the focal point of the room. Above it, a large mirror added a sense of spaciousness. To one side was a mahogany tea table with eight matching chairs. A porcelain tea set with a floral pattern, tiered plate of scones, and tart were ready to serve.
Soft natural light filtered through the tall sash windows, illuminating the room and the sage-green curtains framing the view. Rockford glanced outside—then froze.
A man in a dark coat and a hat similar to his stood at the garden gate, speaking with the footman who blocked Rockford’s view of his face. As if sensing his gaze, the man glanced over the footman’s shoulder, looking directly toward the window, toward Rockford. Then, without hesitation, he turned and disappeared down the path, the footman calling after him.
“They really are beautiful.” Lora entered carrying a vase with the flowers he gave her. She placed the vase in the center of the piecrust table in front of the tall window. He pulled himself away from the window. They sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. He made a mental not to find out who the mysterious visitor was before he left.
Lora busily poured him tea. “One lump or two?”
“None for me, thank you.” He picked up the cup and saucer as she poured her tea and put one lump into it.
“Have you been thinking about the type of charity event we should offer?” She set her teacup down and continued. “I think something with a good deal of interaction, similar to a grand ball. It would attract a good deal of attention and bring in significant donations.”
Rockford’s mind raced. “What about something unique, something associated with the beauty of flowers?”
Lora’s eyes lit up. “A Floral Gala? Lady Harriet and I were talking about her greenhouse. I believe it is too small.” She smiled at Rockford. “I understand you have a large greenhouse, at Evergreen Lodge, your uncle’s estate, Your Grace. Perhaps that could be made available?” She stared hopefully at him.
Rockford’s ties to Sommer-by-the-Sea ran deep, woven through countless summers spent at his uncle’s estate. He had formed enduring friendships with Lora and Adam, their bond forged during their youth. But as he grew older, his life took him to Eton and beyond, and he hadn’t returned to the village in years.
Rockford nodded, picturing the event. “The greenhouse would be perfect. Upon arrival, each guest could be given a flower, symbolizing the clinic’s mission.”
Lora smiled, encouraged by his approval. “I thought we might do several events. We could have an art auction and a luncheon. Three separate events that may appeal to different people. The gala would be the final event of the series.”
Rockford agreed. “And we could make the gala special and have a few performances throughout the evening. Perhaps a string quartet or the local choir. It would add to the ambiance and make the event even more memorable.”
“Yes, and we could have a theme for the gala.” He observed Lora’s enthusiasm and found it infectious. “Something elegant and timeless, like an Enchanted Garden.”
Rockford raised an eyebrow. “An Enchanted Garden? It would certainly make the evening more,” he paused, “enchanting.”
He watched as the thought flew through her mind. “It would symbolize growth and healing, much like the mission of the clinic.”
Rockford gazed at her. The theme was impressive and creative. To her point, it perfectly aligned with the clinic’s mission. Connecting the event’s aesthetic with its deeper purpose could result in larger donations.
Lora paused, her expression thoughtful. “There’s something else I’ve been considering. Whether the guests give money to the clinic or not, we should ensure they understand exactly how their contributions will be used. Perhaps we could create a pamphlet that outlines the specific projects, the needs of the clinic, and what their contribution will provide. This way, they will know exactly how their generosity makes a difference.”
Rockford raised an eyebrow, impressed. “That’s an excellent point.”
Lora smiled, encouraged by his approval. “Thank you. I believe truth and transparency are crucial for building trust and ensuring continued support.”
Lora’s sincerity was undeniable. And yet, here he sat, smiling congenially while planning to deceive her. He would cause her pain, that much was certain. What he hadn’t anticipated was how much it would cost him.
Rockford nodded. “Your foresight will undoubtedly contribute to the success of this event.”
“When should we hold this event? I would think the middle of October. What are your thoughts?” she waited for Rockford.
“I agree. The middle of October would be good.”
As they finished their discussion, Lora looked at him with gratitude. “Thank you. I couldn’t do this without you.”
Rockford smiled warmly. “That is not so.” Reaching across the table, he took her hands in his. “These ideas, very good ones, are yours. I only wish some of my colleagues in the House of Lords had your foresight and dedication. I thank you, Lady Lora. It is an honor to work alongside you.”
Lora’s eyes shone with determination. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“As long as you don’t lock me in the closet.” His eyes were full of mischief.
Lora laughed out loud, a large, unladylike laugh. “You still remember.”
“How can I forget? You asked me to fetch something in the next room. I walked through the door and the next thing I knew, the door was slammed and the lock was turned and I found myself in a closet.”
“I came back an hour later and sat by the door and read to you, but you didn’t answer. After a while, I got concerned. I kept calling you but you said nothing.”
Rockford nodded, trying not to laugh.
“I admit. I panicked and struggled to open the door. And when I did all I found was a stool with a half-eaten biscuit and you nowhere to be found.”
“For days I couldn’t figure out how you got out. I searched the closet and found nothing. It wasn’t until I confessed to Adam that he showed me where to find the latch for the jib door.”
“He was my accomplice.”
Her head popped up. “What!”
He looked at the papers on the table. “We vowed never to tell you.”
The warmth in her voice made Rockford hesitate. Planning this event with her had been a pleasant diversion, but it was only that, a diversion. The closeness they shared now would serve its purpose, drawing Hastings out. And when that happened, he needed to be ready.
As he stepped out of the drawing room, Rockford spotted the footman and approached him. “Who was the man at the gate earlier?”
The footman bowed slightly. “I’m not certain, Your Grace. He suddenly left before he told me his name.”
Rockford nodded, his brow furrowing in thought. “If you see him again, let me know immediately.”
The footman bowed again. “Of course, Your Grace.”
As Rockford walked away, his mind raced with possibilities. Who could that man be? He slowed his pace and took a breath. He was being foolish. It was probably a suitor for one of the housemaids.
*
Hastings sat in his study, the rented suite of rooms at the Stonefield Inn, the dim light from the oil lamp casting long shadows across the modest room. Papers and documents lay spread out before him, detailing the intricate web he had woven to undermine Rockford and secure his own position. He had been working tirelessly, too much was at stake to falter now.
He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The recent note, outlining Rockford’s involvement with the upcoming events in Sommer-by-the-Sea gave him what he needed. These events would be the perfect opportunity to further his schemes. With the elite of society gathering for various social functions, he could manipulate conversations, gather intelligence, and sow seeds of doubt about Rockford.
Hastings picked up a letter from his desk, reading it over once more. It was an invitation to a clandestine meeting with men who shared his ambition. Hastings scanned the list of influential men who had pledged their support in exchange for his political favors: Earl Marchant, Surveyor General of Ordinance; Viscount Montague, Deputy Secretary of the Board of Control. Hastings’ gaze lingered on the last name. Rockford’s boss, Edward, Duke Oakdene, Under-Secretary of State for the Home Department. Lord Barrington’s brother, how poetic, given their rivalry. No love was lost there.
Gaining their backing was critical to his success. With their influence, he could discredit Rockford and position himself as a trusted ally to the king. Then there is the lovely Lora. Her endowment was a significant prize, and he was determined to win her favor. Her fortune would be his to do as he pleased. He had already begun to charm her but knew he needed to be careful. Rockford’s presence was a constant threat, and he couldn’t afford any missteps. Removing him as a competitor was the first order of business.
Just then, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Enter,” Hastings called, setting his papers aside.
A messenger stepped in, bowing slightly. “A letter, sir. Need I wait for a response?”
Hastings took the letter. “No, that will be all.” He dismissed the messenger with a curt nod. He opened it, his eyes scanning the contents quickly. A slow smile spread across his face.
“So, a gala at Evergreen Lodge,” he murmured to himself. “An event that will surely attract the elite.” He tapped the letter against his chin thoughtfully. “With the right timing and subtle suggestions, I’ll shift the narrative ensuring Rockford’s reputation unravels even more.”
His mind was already working on how best to manipulate the situation to further his ambitions. He glanced at the clock. It was time to put his plan into action. And if all went well, he would finally have the power and influence he deserved.