Chapter Seventeen
“R ockford, do you realize the position you’ve put Lady Lora in? And if you believe for one minute that I consider that feminine satchel at her feet to be yours, you are mistaken.” Barrington began, his voice firm but not unkind. “To play the rival for affection is one thing, but this is…not like you.”
Rockford met his gaze steadily. “She came here unexpectedly. I did not plan, nor did I invite her here.” He glanced at the door. “If anything, I came here to get away from her.”
Barrington sighed, his brows knitting together. “Regardless, if discovered, an unchaperoned lady alone with a gentleman at a remote location could lead to ruinous gossip.”
“I am well aware,” Rockford replied, tension edging his voice. “I intend to escort her back promptly.”
“Good.” Barrington gave a firm nod. “I know you care for her. That’s clear. But you must proceed with caution. The stakes are high, and not just regarding Hastings.”
“I appreciate your counsel,” He was sincere with Barrington as they walked toward Barrington’s horse. “She’s already entangled in this more than I’d like. It’s time we involve her properly. Our original plan was for me to stay close to Lora to gather information about Hastings and become his rival for her attention.”
“You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment. You care for her—anyone can see that—but including her in this mission? That’s a dangerous precedent.”
“Hear me out. She has proven herself to be resourceful and trustworthy. I believe she should be included in what we’re doing.”
Barrington raised an eyebrow, considering Rockford’s words. “You’re that certain? This is not a decision to be taken lightly.”
“I’m that certain. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I hadn’t thought it through.” Rockford waited and watched Barrington tumble his words in his head. “She knows more than we give her credit for, and her insight could be invaluable. Besides, keeping her in the dark puts her at greater risk.”
Barrington untied a rolled parchment from his saddle and then turned to Rockford. “Very well, then. We proceed together. We must ensure her safety and propriety. Now we best return.”
Relieved, Rockford and Barrington started back to the lodge. They found Lora at the table, her pen and paper ready, her open satchel beside her. Her gaze met Rockford’s. He nodded at her makeshift desk with a smile.
“Lady Lora.”
She directed her attention to Barrington.
“To safeguard your reputation,” he continued gently, “it would be best if His Grace escorted you back to Fallsmith Hall as soon as possible. In the meantime, perhaps we could briefly discuss the urgent matters pertaining to Hastings.”
“Luckily, I came prepared.” She gestured toward the table.
“I see.” Barrington smiled. Rockford took it in for what it was, a smile of contrition.
Had he or Barrington thought for one minute she was there to… No, she was a bluestocking, but even she had her limits, although, to be with him…
The firelight cast flickering shadows across their faces, dancing in tandem with their thoughts. Barrington’s fingers drummed on the table, his brow knit in thought. Lora, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, sat quietly, determined to move her musing to something more acceptable.
“Time is not on our side,” Barrington began, his tone serious. “We have nine days to capture the highwayman and find out who he works for. Every moment counts.”
Lora listened as she absorbed the importance of what Barrington and Rockford discussed. But her mind was already turning over the possibilities and implications.
Barrington unrolled the parchment and carefully spread a detailed map on the table. He bent over it, examining the area around Sommer-by-the-Sea. “Timothy Wilkins is the royal courier who will be riding tomorrow. He will courier the pouch to the king in Royston Mills,” he said, his eyes tracing the route. He straightened up and let out a breath. “It’s only a half day’s journey from here.” He bent down, scrutinizing the map.
In the quiet moment, with Barrington reviewing the map, Lora whispered, “Thank you.”
Rockford nodded slightly, his eyes conveying more than words ever could.
“Do you agree?” Barrington asked, still concentrating on the map.
“Timothy’s usual route passes through these areas.” Rockford traced a finger along the route. “Based on previous attacks, we’ve identified two prime locations where the highwayman is likely to strike.”
Lora leaned in, her keen eyes scanning the details. She moved closer, her glance following the roads. “Those are two different roads,” she observed, her voice thoughtful. She lifted her head and looked at Rockford. “They converge near the old Stonefield farm at the edge of town, at Stonefield Crossing. His son converted it into an inn. It’s secluded, where the highwayman could plot and plan and not be disturbed.”
Barrington’s eyes widened as he took in her words. He quickly masked his surprise with a controlled expression, one he gave out sparingly. “Well done.” His expression then shifted to one of genuine admiration. “That’s a valuable observation, Lora. We can use that to our advantage.”
“Peter Simms and Simon Watts arrived a few days ago. They were joined by Thomas Greene, who has been working for me for the last six months,” Barrington continued. “They will be instrumental in this operation. Simms, our master of concealment, will shadow the highwayman without detection. Watts, with his exceptional marksmanship and tactical expertise, stands ready to intercept and counter any threat. And Greene, with his expertise, in counterintelligence. In his case, undercover and in Hastings’ employ.”
Rockford leaned over the map, his gaze intense. He tapped the map at the two places near the farm. “We can position Simms and Watts at these two locations.” He indicated a bend in the road on the north and another on the south approaches to the old Stonefield farm. “This way, we cover both possible routes and the area around the farm.”
“Agreed,” Barrington said, his tone decisive. “Tim departs tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. We must all be ready by then. He got to his feet. “There isn’t much more we can do here.”
Rockford folded the map carefully, glancing at his companions. “We’ll use Rockford Manor as our headquarters.”
Barrington nodded in agreement. “I’ll take the south road. We’ll cover every inch.”
“And I’ll take the north road,” Rockford added. His gaze shifted to Lora. “Can you be at Rockford Manor by eight o’clock in the morning?”
Lora straightened, meeting his eyes. “By all means. What would you have me do?”
“I need your keen eyes to review the map and routes.” Rockford’s tone was determined, reflecting the gravity of their mission. “Identify any potential escape routes or contingency plans the highwayman could have. If you find anything, give the information to Jeffers. He will bring it to me immediately. You don’t have to do this—”
“I know I don’t, but I want to.” Lora’s determination and trepidation flared in her eyes.
Satisfied, Rockford placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You are the best person for this assignment.”
Barrington addressed Lora. “I agree with Rockford. Your involvement is an asset and greatly appreciated, but we must prioritize your safety and reputation.” He shook his head gently. “These are challenging times. We must all be cautious.”
As they prepared to depart, Barrington spoke privately to Rockford once more.
“Make sure she’s seen returning from a respectable direction. The last thing we need is unnecessary scrutiny,” he advised. “Perhaps suggest that you encountered one another during an afternoon ride.”
“You needn’t be concerned,” Rockford assured him.
Barrington clasped his shoulder briefly, then waved his goodbye to Lora. “Take care, my friends.” He mounted his horse and turned back toward Sommer-by-the-Sea. As Rockford and Lora watched him disappear into the woods, the impact of the conversation settled over them.
*
Rockford and Lora set out on horseback, the path winding through the woods. Silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Their only accompaniment was the rhythmic clopping of hooves and the distant rustle of leaves. After a while, he noticed Lora adjusting her gloves, a nervous habit she could not overcome.
She broke the silence. “I hadn’t fully considered the implications when I came this morning.” Her eyes remained fixed on the path ahead.
Rockford glanced at her. “You were seeking answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. “I should have been more mindful.”
She shook her head gently, the motion causing a few loose strands of hair to catch the sunlight. “We both hold some responsibility. What’s important now is handling the situation as Barrington suggested, appropriately.”
He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, rueful smile. “Barrington suggested we create the impression we met by chance during a ride.” He gave her a side glance, hoping for her agreement.
“That seems wise.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
They rode silently for some time, the atmosphere thick with unspoken words. Rockford exhaled slowly, the sound mingling with the afternoon’s quiet. His mind churned, grappling with the gravity of the direction the mission had taken. Each heartbeat pounded with the realization of what he stood to lose. When he and Barrington first derived the plan, he thought it would be good to spend time with Lora and if it bothered Hastings, all the more reason to do it. He never thought, God’s Blood, how had this happened? But as he looked at her, riding beside him with quiet determination, the truth was undeniable. He had fallen in love with her.
He closed his eyes as the word seared into his brain. Love. Since he returned from France, he had made honesty, loyalty, and trustworthiness the bedrock of his identity. Yet here he was, entangled in a deceitful plan.
He glanced at Lora, her profile illuminated by the dappled sunlight. She had shown such courage and determination, qualities he admired deeply. He had always prided himself on being a man of honor, yet now he found himself violating the very principles he held dear. The mission demanded secrecy, but the cost was eroding his self-respect. He couldn’t bear the thought of Lora seeing him as a liar and a fraud.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tired. “Lora, I want you to know, I never intended for you to become embroiled in all this.
She turned to look at him, her gaze steady and unwavering. “I chose to involve myself. And despite the… complexities, I don’t regret seeking the truth.”
The path gradually widened, leading them out of the dense woods and into open fields. The landscape was a patchwork of meadows and farmlands, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. They reached Stonefield Crossing and turned south to follow the Sommer River.
Rockford’s gaze flickered to Lora. “Lora, you don’t have to take this on. Hastings is not a man to be underestimated.”
Lora met his gaze with quiet determination. “I am aware of the risks, Rockford. But I cannot stand idly by. The clinic is vital. I cannot turn my back on the people it serves. I must see this through.”
How had he not known about her valor? He laughed to himself. All he had seen was Adam’s little sister in a beautiful woman’s body. “Together, we will see it through.” Silently, he made another vow. No matter what happened, if he had to put his own back to it, she would get the clinic expansion she was fighting so hard for.
As they approached the outskirts of her family estate, Fallsmith Manor came into view, its imposing silhouette softened by the waning light. Rockford guided Lora to the front door, reluctant that their journey was ending.
Before she dismounted, Rockford reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “Promise me you’ll be careful. We have a long road ahead, and I need to know you’ll stay safe.”
Lora nodded, her expression resolute. “I promise, Rockford.”
He helped down. She shook out her skirt. The stable boy came out to take Astra. She looked around.
“Is something amiss?”
“My satchel,” she looked up at Rockford, her face a mirror of distress. “I left it at the lodge.”
“Not to worry. I’ll have it for you in the morning.”
As she disappeared into the house, Rockford lingered for a moment, watching the door close behind her. With a heavy heart, he turned his horse and began the ride back. The path ahead was uncertain, but his commitment to protect her was unwavering.
*
Lora stood at the threshold of her father’s study, her heart pounding. She had heard the familiar sound of his voice mingling with the rustle of papers as she passed by the corridor. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked softly on the door.
“Lora, my dear. Come in,” her father called warmly from inside.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside, a smile on her face. “Welcome home, Father. How was Brighton?”
“It was delightful,” he replied, setting his quill down and motioning for her to sit. “Your mother had quite a list of tasks for me, but we managed to get through them all. Adam sends his regards as well.”
Lora nodded, feeling a moment of peace in the familiarity of their conversation. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s good to have you back.”
Her father studied her for a moment, then asked, “Do you have any plans for the next season?”
Lora was startled by the question, her heart skipping a beat. “Absolutely not.”
Her father raised an eyebrow, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “And Lady Harriet has not been successful in finding you a suitable match?”
A surge of anger welled up inside her. “Not for any lack of trying, Father.”
“Well,” he said, his tone firm, “what you and she cannot accomplish, I will.”
Lora’s curiosity got the better of her. “What do you mean? What are you doing?”
“I’m writing to the king,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I am making the arrangements where you and Harriet have failed.”
Her anger flared, her mind racing. “You can’t be serious! You’re deciding my future without my consent?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, dismissing her concern with a wave of his hand. “You’ll love his garden.”
Lora’s breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to argue, but her father had already turned back to his writing, dismissing her as if she were a child. Fury and disbelief surged through her. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed out, her pulse hammering with outrage.