Chapter Twenty-One
14 October 1822
A s Rockford approached the grand entrance of Fallsmith Manor, the crisp scent of autumn mingled with the delicate aroma of blooming roses, a gentle reminder of the changing seasons. Yet, despite the serene beauty surrounding him, his thoughts were consumed by the tumult of the previous day.
The urgency in Lora’s message had ignited a fire within him. He’d known that involving her in the scheme to bait Hastings held an element of risk, but he’d never anticipated she would take such bold action alone. Her fierce independence, once merely a characteristic he admired from a distance, was now a source of pride and deeper concern.
He recalled dismounting at the crossroads. His heart didn’t begin to pound until he saw the dainty footprints as he scanned the area. He knew they were Lora’s. When he found different hoofprints, he knew at once she’d been captured, and it was his fault. Guilt gnawed at him, a slow, insidious weight settling in his chest. The memory of her dainty footprints at the crossroads, the stark contrast between them and heavy boots prints beside them, proof of her capture, flashed in his mind. Proof of his failure. His hands curled into fists. If he hadn’t agreed to this charade, if he hadn’t let her become involved, she might never have been in danger.
The memory of finding her in that dimly lit room, eyes wide with fear and relief, was seared into his mind. Her whispered plea, the way she clung to him, haunted his every thought. The truth settled in his chest, cold and undeniable, his feelings for Lora were not an act. Perhaps they never had been.
“Good morning, Your Grace.”
A familiar voice cut through his brooding, grounding him in the present. Rockford blinked, realizing Axbridge stood before him, patient as ever.
“Good morning, Axbridge,” Rockford replied, offering a curt nod. “Lady Lora is expecting me?”
“Yes, sir. She’s in the sitting room.”
“Thank you.”
As he followed Axbridge through the stately foyer, the burden of his deception sat like a stone on his heart. His feelings had deepened, the lines between duty and desire blurred, and for once, he found himself struggling with a task. Each moment spent with her made it more difficult to maintain the charade.
Rockford clenched his fists at his sides, the tension obvious in the rigid set of his shoulders. His gaze lingered on the grand portraits lining the walls, but his mind was consumed by thoughts of Lora, her laughter, and her eyes sparkling with determination. He could not reconcile the happiness she brought him with the deceit he was entangled in. Each smile she gave him was a dagger to his heart, reminding him of the lie he lived.
Axbridge’s footsteps echoed through the corridor, but Rockford, lost in his turmoil, barely heard them. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, the strands slipping through his fingers as if seeking solace in what he had to do.
The realization hit him hard. Soon, he would have to confront the truth with Lora and himself. The battle between his duty and his love for her tore him apart, and he feared which side would ultimately prevail.
Entering the sitting room, his gaze found Lora immediately. She was on the sofa near the window, bathed in sunlight that highlighted the subtle auburn strands in her hair. When she looked up, their eyes met, and a familiar warmth stirred in his heart.
“Good morning,” he greeted softly. “I wanted to discuss where we are with the gala plans if you’re up to it.”
Her eyes searched his, perhaps seeking reassurance, or was he imagining that? She gestured to the seat beside her. “Yes, the gala… it’s important we keep moving forward.”
He took his place on the sofa, conscious of the respectful distance yet acutely aware of their unspoken connection. She spoke with quiet determination, but her fingers curled around the cushion’s edge, gripping it like an anchor. A flicker of exhaustion crossed her face before she smoothed it away. She wore a brave face, and guilt tightened like a vice around his heart.
“Is there anything specific you’d like us to focus on?” he asked gently, hoping to ease into their usual rhythm.
She drew a steadying breath. “I’ve added the last of guest responses to the list. Let’s finalize the list and ensure we have everything in hand.”
“Of course.” He offered a small smile, producing his notes. “I brought our notes from our last meeting. We can review them together.”
As they delved into the details, he couldn’t help but become acutely aware of her every movement. The way a stray lock of hair brushed against her cheek and the earnestness in her voice as she spoke about the clinic drew him in.
“You have an incredible vision for this event,” he remarked, genuinely impressed by her passion. “Your ideas truly capture the essence of the clinic’s mission.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you. I believe creating a serene atmosphere will encourage support for our work. The clinic means so much to the community—it deserves nothing less.”
He hesitated before adding, “Including certain military and government officials could bolster our efforts. Their support might prove invaluable.”
She met his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. “Yes, that’s wise. But we mustn’t forget our local benefactors, the townspeople who’ve supported the clinic from the very beginning. It’s important we honor those who’ve been with us all along.”
“You’re absolutely right.” He made a note beside several names. “Their loyalty has been invaluable.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, filled only by the soft scratching of pen on paper. Yet, beneath the surface, his thoughts warred. He’d deceived her, led her to believe his courtship was genuine when, in truth, it had begun as a mere strategy. Now, faced with the reality of his growing feelings, he grappled with a profound sense of shame.
“Lora,” he began carefully, setting his pen aside. “I can’t help but feel responsible for yesterday. If I hadn’t involved you in this scheme, perhaps none of it would have happened.”
She shook her head gently, a small, reassuring gesture. “Don’t blame yourself. I acted on my own because I believed it was necessary. I couldn’t risk the highwayman slipping away due to an oversight.”
“Still,” he pressed, “the thought of what could have happened if I hadn’t arrived in time…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hung heavy in the air.
She reached out then, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. The contact sent a subtle warmth through him. “But you did come,” she said softly. “And that’s what matters. I knew you would.”
For a moment, he allowed himself to simply absorb the sincerity in her gaze, the delicate touch of her hand. He wanted to promise he’d always be there and move heaven and earth to keep her safe. But the words felt too large, too laden with meaning.
She withdrew her hand and glanced down as if collecting her thoughts. “I mentioned to you before that fragments of time I was in the lodge resurface in my mind…”
He leaned in slightly, his attention fully hers. “Anything you recall could be helpful. Even the smallest detail.”
“There was a scent,” she began, her brow furrowing in concentration. “Like lemon mixed with something smoky. It’s distinct, but I can’t place where I’ve smelled it before.”
“Lemon and smoke,” he repeated, filing that away mentally. “Anything else?”
“His voice had an odd cadence. Almost familiar, but not quite. And he seemed to know things about you.”
A chill prickled at the back of his neck. “About me? What did he say?”
“He made veiled references. It felt personal as if he held a grudge.”
Rockford sat back, his fingers tightening around the armrest. A slow dread curled in his gut, cold and uncertain. His past was not without its shadows, but this? This was personal. Whoever the highwayman was, he wasn’t just playing a game, he had a personal vendetta.
“I thought if we pooled our perceptions, we might piece together who he is and what he wants,” she continued, her eyes searching his.
He met her gaze, determination, and something deeper stirring within him. “We’ll figure it out,” he assured her.
A hint of relief softened her features. “Thank you, Rockford.”
He hesitated before adding, “And please, promise me you won’t take such risks again. I couldn’t bear it if—” He stopped himself, the depth of his feelings threatening to spill over.
She offered a faint smile. “I’ll be more cautious.”
“Good.” He exhaled slowly, tension easing slightly. “Perhaps we can interview the couriers who had encounters with the highwayman. See if any patterns emerge.”
“That’s a good idea.” She reached for a stack of papers. “I’ve taken some notes…”
As they immersed themselves in the task, he remained acutely aware of her every movement—the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and her voice’s soft inflection when she pondered a thought. An unspoken understanding lingered between them, a connection that went beyond their shared mission.
He decided then and there to protect her—not just from physical harm but from the shadows that threatened to dim her spirit. Rockford would ensure it ended here, whatever the highwayman wanted, whatever vendetta he pursued.
“Lora.” Her name left his lips before he could stop it, barely above a whisper. She looked up, curiosity flickering in her gaze.
He hesitated. The truth pressed against his ribs, demanding to be spoken. But once said, it could never be taken back. His jaw tightened. Not yet.
Instead, he exhaled slowly. “I appreciate your trust in me. It means more than you know.”
Her gaze softened, a gentle smile touching her lips. “You’ve given me every reason to trust you.”
The knot in his chest tightened. He forced a smile, nodding. “Shall we continue?”
“Yes, of course.”
As they delved back into their notes, Rockford knew the moment to reveal the truth was approaching. But for now, he cherished this time with her, even as his heart battled between duty and love.