Chapter Fifteen
A s Lora returned to the carriage, a knot of doubt tightened in her chest. She climbed inside, and the coachman turned for her instructions.
“Home, my lady?” he asked.
Lora hesitated, her gaze distant as she stared unseeing at the road ahead. Return home? Alone with her turbulent thoughts and the silent rooms echoing with questions she couldn’t answer? The walls would close in, magnifying her uncertainty.
She needed clarity, some help to pull her from the confusion. Harriet’s steadfast friendship and keen intuition were that beacon.
Taking a breath, she met the coachman’s gaze. “No, take me to Lady Harriet’s,” her voice steadier than she felt.
As the carriage drove on, the rhythmic clatter of wheels matched the anxious cadence of her heart. Rockford’s silence, the butler’s curt dismissal, and Hastings’ smug insinuations churned in her mind, an endless storm.
At Harriet’s home. Lora scarcely waited for the footman to open the door before alighting. The familiar scent of sandalwood and old books greeted her, a brief comfort against her inner turmoil.
Harriet looked up from her embroidery as Lora entered the drawing room. A warm smile spread across her face, but it quickly faded as she saw Lora’s strained expression.
“Lora, dear, what brings you by at this hour?” Harriet set aside her hoop and hurried to her friend.
“Harriet,” Lora began, her voice scarcely above a whisper. The words caught in her throat as she struggled to swallow a lump of emotion. Her carefully maintained composure was fracturing, her vulnerability threatening to surface.
Harriet gently took Lora’s hands. “Come, let’s sit. Whatever it is, you can share it with me.”
They settled on the plush settee near the hearth, the crackle of the fire filling the silence. Harriet waited patiently, her steady presence a comfort to Lora’s frayed nerves.
“It’s Rockford,” Lora finally managed, her gaze fixed on the carpet’s intricate pattern. “I haven’t heard from him in two days. When I called today, I was turned away. And…” She paused, her hands clenched in her lap. “Hastings was there. He implied things, suggested that Rockford might be… neglecting certain obligations.”
Harriet inhaled thoughtfully. “That doesn’t sound like Rockford at all,” she said softly. “What exactly did Hastings say?”
“It’s not just what he said, but how he said it,” Lora replied, frustration and hurt mingling in her chest. “With that smirk, as if he knows something I don’t. I pride myself on not being swayed by idle gossip, but his words…” She paused. “They’re difficult to ignore.”
“Hastings has a way of twisting words, doesn’t he?” Harriet placed a comforting hand over Lora’s. “Always looking to stir the pot and leave a trail of doubt.”
“I know.” Lora nodded, her voice quavering slightly. “But I can’t help feeling that there’s truth lurking beneath his insinuations. Why else would Rockford avoid me? Especially after…” She flushed, the memory of their shared kiss rising unbidden.
“After what, Lora?” Harriet prompted gently.
Steeling herself, Lora met Harriet’s gaze. “We shared a moment, a… a kiss. It felt significant, as though we acknowledged what was growing between us. And at tea, he spoke of his feelings. But now…I’m left questioning if it meant anything to him at all.”
“Oh, Lora,” Harriet murmured, squeezing her hands gently. “Matters of the heart are seldom straightforward. But Rockford doesn’t appear to me as a man who takes such things lightly.”
“Then why his silence?” Lora’s composure slipped further. “Why distance himself now? It feels as though he’s built a wall between us overnight, and I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong.”
“You may have done nothing wrong,” Harriet assured her. “Men often grapple with their own battles, internal and otherwise, and believe they must do so alone.”
Lora’s eyes flashed with frustration. “But I am not some fragile creature to be protected from the world’s harshness. I thought he saw me as an equal, a partner. How can we build anything lasting if he shuts me out at the first sign of difficulty?”
“Your feelings are valid. But patience might serve you here. Give him a little time. He may come to you when he’s ready.”
“Patience has never been my virtue,” Lora muttered, a wry smile tugging at her lips.
“I am well aware,” Harriet replied with a soft laugh. “But consider this. Acting in haste might push him further away. If you confront him now, while emotions are high, it could lead to misunderstandings that are difficult to mend.”
Lora leaned back, closing her eyes briefly. The logical part of her recognized Harriet’s wisdom, but her heart ached with the need for an immediate resolution. “Perhaps you’re right,” she conceded quietly. “But what am I to do in the meantime?”
“Focus on the things in your control,” Harriet suggested. “Isn’t the gala approaching? Pour your energy into ensuring its success.”
“The gala,” Lora echoed, the thought distant. “Yes, there’s still much to be done.”
“And remember, I’m here whenever you need me.” Harriet gave her an encouraging smile.
“Thank you, Harriet. Your friendship means more to me than I can say.”
“Nonsense,” Harriet put her arm around her and drew her close. “That’s what friends are for.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the warmth of the fire seeping into their bones. Lora felt a measure of peace returning, the chaos settling ever so slightly. While the path ahead remained uncertain, she took comfort in knowing she didn’t have to navigate it alone.
As she prepared to leave, Harriet walked her to the door. “Promise me you’ll be kind to yourself,” Harriet said, her eyes earnest.
“I’ll try,” Lora replied, mustering a small smile.
“And if you decide that patience isn’t the way,” Harriet added with a teasing glint, “just make sure you’re prepared for whatever you might uncover.”
Lora nodded, a determined light reigniting in her gaze. “I won’t shy away from the truth, whatever it may be.”
“That’s the Lora I know.” Harriet pulled her into a brief hug.
Lora drew a deep breath as she stepped out into the fading midday light. The air was crisp, carrying the briny scent of the North Sea and a hint of unknown possibilities. Her emotions still swirled, but they were tempered now by a renewed determination. Whether through patience or action, she would find her way forward.
*
Lora’s impatience grew as the day waned, her mind swirling with unanswered questions and the growing fear that something was deeply amiss. Every moment of silence chipped away at her composure, leaving her restless and uneasy. Harriet means well. She paced the length of the drawing room. But she doesn’t feel this suffocating uncertainty. I can’t just sit here and wait while everything feels like it’s slipping away. Her stubbornness refused to let the matter rest. She needed to take matters into her own hands.
But where to begin? The memory of Rockford’s kiss lingered like a bittersweet echo, stirring vulnerability she had long guarded against. Opening her heart had been a risk, and now the silence made her question if it had been worth it. Her fingertips grazed her bottom lip absentmindedly, recalling the warmth and tenderness of his kiss. It had stirred something deep within her, a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to feel. Opening her heart had always been her greatest fear, and now, that fear threatened to consume her.
“How could he…” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the vastness of the room. A surge of frustration welled up and mingled with the lingering ache of disappointment. She had let down her guard and shared a piece of herself she had kept hidden from the world, and now he had retreated into silence.
“Enough,” she declared aloud, the word echoing off the ornate plasterwork of the ceiling. The determined tone startled her but ignited a spark of conviction in her chest. She would not be left in the dark nor allow her emotions to make her powerless.
Crossing swiftly to her writing desk, she pulled out a sheet of fine stationery. The familiar scent of parchment and ink offered a small comfort. She sat, the delicate chair creaking softly beneath her, and took up her quill. Her hand hovered over the page for a moment, her thoughts racing. Should she express the depth of her confusion? The hurt? No—her pride bristled at the thought. No, something neutral. Perhaps it would be best to address him under the guise of their shared responsibility. The gala. It was reasonable to contact him without revealing her inner turmoil.
She penned a concise note:
Dear Lord Rockford,
I hope this letter finds you well. As the date of the gala draws near, there are several pressing matters that require your attention. Your guidance is essential to ensure the event’s success. Might we arrange a time at your earliest convenience to discuss the details?
Warm regards,
Lora
She read over the note, satisfied that it conveyed urgency without giving way to her personal frustrations. It was formal yet personal enough to prompt a reply.
Sealing the envelope with her signet, she summoned a footman.
“Please ensure this letter is delivered to His Grace immediately,” she instructed. “It is important that he receives it as soon as possible.”
“At once, my lady,” he replied, taking the letter with careful hands before departing swiftly.
As the door closed behind him, Lora let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She hoped that invoking the gala would prompt Rockford to respond. After all, they had committed to working on it together, and the approaching date necessitated collaboration.
Hours slipped by with no reply. She attempted to occupy herself reviewing guest lists, and coordinating the vendors, but her mind kept drifting back to him. The silence was maddening, each passing moment amplifying her concern.
The day waned, and twilight shadows crept across the room. Lora stood by the window, staring at nothing in particular. The sky blazed with hues of amber and crimson, but the beauty did little to soothe her restlessness.
The sky outside darkened, she lit a few candles, their flickering light cast long shadows that danced on the walls. She reviewed the inventory list Harriet had given her to identify what her household could provide. She glanced at the clock again, her heart sinking with each passing minute.
She added the responses that arrived in the day’s mail to the guest list, scanning its contents without really reading it, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Rockford. The silence was maddening, a constant reminder of her growing anxiety. Every creak of the house, every rustle of the curtains stirred by the evening breeze, made her heart jump.
No matter how she tried to occupy herself, Lora kept returning to the window, staring into the darkness. Each moment of silence deepened her unease.
As the hours slipped by and Rockford’s silence stretched unbroken, a thought pierced her mind—a man of his word would not ignore something so important. Something was wrong. Her impatience sharpened into steely conviction. “If he refuses to respond, then I’ll find the truth myself,” she resolved, her reflection in the glass hardening with purpose. Her stubbornness refused to let the matter rest. She would seek answers, even if it meant stepping beyond the bounds of propriety.
She rang for Anna.
“Please have my riding habit available early in the morning and ask the stable master to have Astra ready at first light,” Lora instructed, her voice calm but resolute. This was not a decision she made lightly, but one born of necessity and an unwavering determination to confront the unknown. “Tomorrow I shall be riding early.”
Anna looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across her features. It was uncommon for Lora to request her riding attire at such an hour. “Very good, my lady,” she replied, curtsying slightly.
“I’ll need a small satchel as well.”
“Of course,” Anna said, though curiosity lingered in her gaze. “Will there be anything else?”
“That will be all for tonight. Thank you, Anna,” Lora offered a reassuring smile, hoping to quell any unspoken questions.
As Anna left the room, Lora released a slow breath. She turned back to the window as the stars grew brighter against the velvet sky. The silver glow of the crescent moon cast gentle shadows across the estate grounds. The tranquil estate seemed to mock her turmoil. Its serene beauty contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions within her, each shadow outside reflecting the unanswered questions that haunted her.
“Whatever you’re hiding, Rockford,” she vowed, her gaze fixed on the crescent moon. “I’ll uncover the truth, no matter the cost.”