Chapter Sixteen
11 October 1822
F or Lora, the night passed fitfully. Sleep came in pieces, her dreams a tangle of fragmented images, a waltz under shimmering chandeliers, whispers in shadowed corridors, the echo of Rockford’s voice calling her name. She awoke before dawn, the faint blush of sunrise just beginning to lighten the horizon.
Lora dressed quickly, with practiced efficiency. The deep green riding habit fit her perfectly. The tailored lines accentuated her form. She pulled on her polished boots and fastened the silver buttons of her fitted jacket. Standing before the mirror, she pinned her hair neatly beneath a simple velvet hat, allowing a few tendrils to escape and frame her face.
Her reflection gazed back with a steadfast expression. There was no room for hesitation now. She retrieved the small satchel Anna had prepared, ensuring she had all she might need for the journey: a map, a small pouch of coins, and her papers for the events.
Quietly descending the grand staircase, Lora moved through the silent house. The staff would not expect her this early, and she preferred to leave without their attention. As she stepped outside, the cool morning air embraced her, carrying the fresh scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming heather.
Her mare, Astra, awaited her alert and ready, just as Lora had instructed. The chestnut coat gleamed in the soft light, and Astra nickered softly at Lora’s approach.
“Good morning, girl,” Lora whispered, stroking Astra’s sleek neck. “We’ve a journey ahead of us.”
She secured her satchel and mounted gracefully, settling into the saddle with ease. With a gentle nudge, they set off down the drive, hooves muffled against the earth.
The world was awash with the colors of dawn, rosy pinks fading into golden yellows as the sun began to rise. The countryside stretched before her, a patchwork of rolling hills, lush green fields, and hedgerows still cloaked in the remnants of morning mist.
As they rode, Lora’s thoughts churned as she recalled how Rockford often sought solitude at his family’s hunting lodge near Briarcliff Woods. If he was anywhere, her instincts told her she would find him there.
The journey was not a short one, but Lora was an accomplished rider, and Astra’s stamina and steady pace ate up the miles with ease. The crisp air sharpened her focus as each stride brought her closer to the answers she sought.
They followed the River Sommer for an hour and a half until she reached Stonefield’s Crossing, the halfway point. Lora stretched her legs and watched as Astra drank from the cool river. Lora glanced westward. The old road would take her past the old Stonefield farm and Royston Mills beyond. But she was bound north to the woods.
What would she say when he opened the door? Should she be nonchalant? Concerned? Angry?
She glanced south. This was a fool’s mission.
Astra raised and shook her head. “Had enough? Then we best be on our way.”
She should go home. Lora took the reins draped over her saddle, mounted Astra, and headed north, admitting to herself, at least, that she was the fool.
Thirty minutes later, she approached the fringes of the forest, where the trees were denser and their branches intertwined overhead, forming a canopy. The path narrowed, winding through the ancient woodland as shafts of sunlight danced through the foliage, lighting patches of wildflowers that dotted the underbrush.
They rode on another hour before the lodge came into view. It was a stately yet rustic timber and stone structure blending into its surroundings. Smoke curled lightly from the chimney. Someone was there.
Lora brought Astra to the hitching post, dismounted, and removed her satchel. Her boots crunched softly on the gravel path. She took a moment to steady herself, smoothing her skirt and taking a deep breath. The lodge was well situated, but she didn’t hear the soft song of the birds or the gentle rustling of leaves that filled the air. Her nerves fluttered. She closed her eyes. “Foolish girl,” she muttered.
With her satchel in hand, she approached the heavy oak door and hesitated. Finally, she lifted the brass knocker and let it drop.
*
Rockford sat by the hearth, the warmth of the fire doing little to ease the chill of his troubled thoughts. He turned the letter from Barrington over in his hands. The mission was becoming increasingly complex. Being close to Lora was supposed to be a means to an end, to gather information on Hastings. But now, emotions had entangled that plan.
He rubbed his temples, closing his eyes. “What am I doing?” he muttered. The lines between duty and desire were blurred. The king was arriving in ten days, and time was running short. Yet, the thought of deceiving Lora any further was unbearable.
A fall of the brass knocker at the door pulled him from his reverie. His brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Rising cautiously, he crossed the room and opened the door.
“Lora?”
She stood before him, determination and vulnerability flashed in her eyes. “Good morning, Rockford,” she said evenly. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
For a moment, words escaped him. Part of him had feared this moment, while another part had longed for it. “Please, come in.” He stepped aside.
As she entered and placed her satchel by the door, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions. Had she discovered his true intentions? Was this the moment everything unraveled?
“Are you planning to stay long?” He stared at her, then at her satchel, his smile inviting and suggestive.
Her gaze met his with defiance, snuffing out his implied question. “You’re not the only one who can run away.”
They stood gazing at each other for several long heartbeats.
“How did you find me?” he finally asked, attempting a casual tone.
She offered a faint smile. “It seemed a logical place to look when you vanished without a word. Besides, you invited me.”
He nodded slowly, closing the door behind her. “I suppose I underestimated your ability to find me.”
She faced him directly, her chest heaving at his words. “So, you have been avoiding me. I deserve to know why. Especially after…” She hesitated, the memory of their kiss a bittersweet reminder of what had been left unsaid.
He grasped her shoulders. “No, not because of you. Never.” He took a deep breath wrestling internally. Could he confide in her without jeopardizing the mission? Without putting her in danger? His feelings for her warred with his sense of duty.
“Lora, there are things you don’t know, things I can’t fully explain right now.”
She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “Then trust me enough to understand,” she implored, her voice soft yet resolute.
He hesitated, the impact of his decision bearing down on him. Would revealing just enough keep her safe or push her further into harm’s way? He looked into her eyes, seeing the sincerity and strength that had drawn him to her from the start. Perhaps he owed her the truth or at least part of it.
“Come, you must be cold. We’ll sit by the fire.” As Rockford and Lora sat in the warmth of the lodge, Lora’s gaze reflected the hurt he had caused. He took a deep breath and began to explain.
“I’ve been avoiding you because of my misstep,” he admitted, his tone heavy with regret. “It’s led to insinuations, and I didn’t want you caught in Hastings’ schemes.” He paused. If he told her anymore, she wouldn’t be in the fray. She’d be in the fire.
“Hastings,” she said with conviction.
He felt the blood drain from his face.
Lora placed a hand on his arm. “Hastings has made similar insinuations to me.”
“I had no intentions of compromising you. Hasting wants to be something he is not, an aristocrat with all that he thinks goes with it. Money, position, and a title. He’d be willing to marry as long as it was a profitable arrangement.”
“My trust.”
His eyes widened.
“Please, don’t be surprised. Harriet already told me he was questioning my trust. He thinks he will…” She stopped and looked at him. “You know that already.”
“Yes. It wasn’t until recently that I realized Hastings was rooting around in other people’s finances besides mine. He has been making moves to undermine the new reforms, organizing some of the most influential and wealthiest men to stop workers from banding together. They are particularly against the expansion of the clinic.”
Lora listened attentively, her eyes fixed upon his. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she inquired softly.
“Matters have grown more intricate. Hastings and his accomplice are determined to halt progress at any cost, and their actions pose a significant threat to us all. I have been gathering intelligence, keeping watch over their activities, and seeking a means to stop them without drawing undue attention. But it is perilous work. If you were not involved, there was no need to put you in harm’s way.”
Her expression softened, but she didn’t offer him immediate relief. “I am involved. Why is he looking into your finances?”
“He is searching for something to use as leverage to have me do his bidding. He operates on the assumption that everyone has something to hide. That is his preferred currency.”
Lora leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “What is he hoping to find, Rockford? What are you hiding?”
His jaw muscle visibly tensed as he weighed his options. The scandal in London was a convenient decoy, but it was far from the whole truth. Could he keep her safe while keeping her in the dark? Every moment spent in silence felt like an eternity as he wrestled with the dilemma. The mission is paramount.
“There was a scandal in London,” Rockford said, his voice firm. “I was accused of indiscretion, and though the accusations were unfounded, the stain on my reputation remains. Hastings knows this and seeks to use it against me. But you must believe me, Lora, my intentions toward you are sincere.”
“We’ll turn this to our advantage,” she said firmly. “Together, we’ll outmaneuver Hastings, quietly, but decisively.”
The muscle along his jawline pulsed as he stared at her. When he looked into her eyes, he saw unwavering determination and strength. And something shifted inside him.
It was as if a tight knot in his chest suddenly gave way, and he was flooded with clarity he hadn’t felt before. He would sacrifice the mission if it meant keeping her safe. She was more than a part of his life now; she was the very center of it. The mission and its secrets paled beside her safety. He would face any danger to ensure she remained unharmed. Losing her was unthinkable.
“Do you want to tell Barrington, or shall I?” Rockford’s smile softened, a rare warmth in his voice. “That you’re part of Barrington’s Brigade.”
Barrington was in for a surprise. Lora was smarter than he thought, and, more importantly, she was up to the challenge.
The conversation, heavy with unspoken truths, was interrupted by a firm knock at the door. Rockford’s eyes widened, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Wait here,” he said quietly, rising to his feet.
He opened the door, “Barrington,” he paused more from relief than surprise. “This is unexpected. It seems to be a day filled with surprises.”
“Rockford, may I come in? There’s an urgent matter we need to discuss.”
Rockford stepped aside. “Of course.” He stepped aside.
Barrington entered, his gaze falling first on Lora by the hearth, her satchel at her feet. Surprise flickered across his face before disapproval settled in his eyes. Rockford braced himself.
“I was preparing to return to Rockford Manor when Lora arrived.”
Barrington straightened, his posture impeccably formal. “Lady Lora,” he greeted with a slight bow. “I hadn’t expected to find you here.”
Rockford tensed when a flush rose to Lora’s cheeks, but he knew he needn’t have been concerned when Lora met Barrington’s gaze with composure. “Lord Barrington,” she titled her head. “I needed to discuss urgent gala matters with His Grace.”
Barrington’s expression softened slightly. “I see.” He straightened his coat with a deliberate motion, then turned to Lora. “Forgive me, Lady Lora,” he said before turning to Rockford. “May we speak privately?”
“Of course,” Rockford replied, his stomach tightening at the urgency in Barrington’s voice. Whatever the matter, it promised to test his already strained resolve.