Chapter Twenty-Five
16 October 1822
L ora stood by the window of her sitting room, gazing out at the garden below. She didn’t notice the vibrant blooms that swayed softly in the breeze. Her thoughts were a tangle of the previous evening’s events, the art auction, unsettling encounters, and the lingering scent of lemon and smoke that stirred memories she’d rather forget.
A familiar knock pulled her from her reverie. She turned just as the door opened, and her brother, Adam, stepped in, his grin a welcome burst of sunshine.
“Surprise, sister!” He spread his arms wide.
“Adam!” A genuine smile broke across her features. She closed the distance between them swiftly, embracing him tightly. The solid warmth of his hug brought a rush of comfort. “When did you return?”
“Just this morning,” Holding her at arm’s length and studied her face. “Thought I’d return after my short trip to Brighton. Can’t stay away too long, can I?”
She chuckled. “Your timing couldn’t be better.”
His smile faltered slightly as he searched her eyes. “Is everything all right, Lora? You seem… preoccupied.”
She hesitated, torn between unburdening herself and shielding him from her worries. “There have been… some challenges.” The words felt insufficient, like calling a storm a passing drizzle. She exhaled softly. “Perhaps we could talk while walking along the cliffs? The fresh air might help clear my thoughts.”
Adam’s eyes softened with concern. “Of course.” He offered his arm with a flourish. “Lead the way.”
They crossed the garden and slipped out the back gate, stepping onto the path that meandered toward the cliffs. The North Sea stretched before them, a vast expanse of shimmering blue meeting the horizon. The salty breeze played with Lora’s loose wisps of hair, and she inhaled deeply, hoping to ease the tightness in her chest.
“This is one of my favorite places. I understand why Father preferred living here to the house in London,” Adam said, his gaze fixed on the distant waves. “Standing here clears the mind, doesn’t it?”
Lora leaned close. “It does the same for me. Everything feels simpler out here.”
They walked in companionable silence for a few moments. The only sounds were the rhythmic crash of waves below and the crunching of leaves underfoot.
“There is talk about your project to expand the clinic all the way in Brighton,” Adam said eventually, casting her a sidelong glance. “How are the plans progressing?”
Lora raised an eyebrow playfully. “Are you teasing me?”
He shook his head, his expression earnest. “Not at all. I was just as surprised as you.”
She relaxed, a hint of a smile touching her lips. “Well, we’ve organized a series of events to raise funds. Last night’s art auction was the first. Rockford was incredibly generous. He donated a Constable landscape. It was the highlight of the evening. Lady Beatrice had the winning bid.”
Adam’s smile broadened. “Thank you for warning me. The last time I saw her, she went on and on about acquiring a Constable. She must be positively glowing about acquiring a Constable.”
Lora nodded. “I’m glad the painting found a good home. The proceeds will make a significant difference for the clinic.”
They continued along the path, a figure emerged ahead, a man walking briskly in their direction. As he drew closer, Lora recognized Thomas Greene.
“Lady Lora,” Greene greeted with a courteous bow when they met. His gaze flickered briefly to Adam. “Good day.”
“Mr. Greene,” Lora replied with a polite smile. “May I introduce my brother, Viscount Wesley?”
Adam touched the brim of his hat, his eyes cool. “A pleasure.”
Greene hesitated, his fingers flexing briefly at his sides before he nodded. “The pleasure is mine, my lord.”
“Enjoying a morning stroll, Mr. Greene?” Lora inquired.
“Indeed. The sea air is invigorating. You’re looking well, milady.” His gaze darted nervously between them.
“Much better, Mr. Greene.”
“Well, I shouldn’t keep you. Good day.” He tipped his hat and continued past them.
Adam watched Greene’s retreating figure with a thoughtful frown. “What is this about you not feeling well?”
“Too much excitement and champagne at last night’s art auction. Nothing more. I was with Rockford.”
“I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with Thomas Greene.”
“Rockford introduced us,” Lora explained. “Why do you ask?”
They resumed walking, but Adam’s earlier lightness had faded. “I’ve heard some… unsettling things about him. In Brighton, his name came up in less-than-flattering contexts.”
Lora glanced at her brother, concern knitting her brow. “What do you mean?”
Adam hesitated. “He’s been linked to some dubious dealings, associations with unsavory characters. I don’t have specifics, but the whispers were enough to raise my suspicions.”
A chill prickled at the back of Lora’s neck. “I had no idea. He’s always been polite if a bit reserved.”
“Politeness can be a mask,” Adam cautioned gently. “I’ll speak to Rockford.”
She sighed, her gaze drifting back to where Greene had disappeared down the path. “Thank you for telling me.”
Adam squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Anything to protect my sister.”
They walked a little further. Her mind churned with the new information about Mr. Greene. If Greene was not to be trusted, what implications did that have for her project? First, Mr. Hastings and now, Mr. Greene.
“We should head back,” she suggested softly. “Rockford is meeting me at the house soon. We’re supposed to finalize a few things for the luncheon, the next event in our march toward financing the expansion.”
“Of course.” Adam offered his arm again, and they returned and entered through the garden gate.
“His Grace and Lord Barrington are in the drawing room,” Axbridge announced as they stepped inside.
“Both of them?” Lora exchanged a concerned glance with Adam. A knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach, her earlier calm now replaced with a bubbling unease.
Without another word, she hurried down the corridor, the hem of her dress brushing against the polished marble floor. The familiar scent of polished wood and fresh lilies seemed cloying today and failed to soothe her racing heart. Adam kept pace beside her.
As they approached the drawing room, Lora hesitated for the briefest moment, taking a steadying breath before pushing the heavy oak door open. The sight that greeted her only deepened her worry.
Rockford stood by the fireplace, his posture rigid, one hand gripping the mantelpiece as if to anchor himself. The usually warm and inviting room felt chilled despite the crackling fire. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows that played across his chiseled features. His eyes, stormy and distant, were fixed on the dancing flames.
Barrington sat in a high-backed chair nearby. His fingers steepled under his chin, his expression grave. The air was thick with unspoken tension.
“Gentlemen?” Lora’s voice was gentle but edged with concern.
Both men turned upon her entering, Barrington rising out of the chair. Rockford’s gaze softened when he saw her, the hard lines of his face easing just a fraction, but the shadows remained. “I’m glad you’re here.” His deep voice carried a hint of weariness.
Barrington rose, offering a curt nod. “We have some concerning news that we need to discuss.”
Lora felt her heart skip a beat. She glanced between them, noting the seriousness etched on their faces. “What is it?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Rockford exchanged a brief look with Barrington before stepping forward. He held out an envelope, the seal broken. “You and I both received these this morning.”
Her fingers trembled slightly as she took the envelope, its weight seeming heavier than mere paper should allow. Adam moved closer and glanced over her shoulder.
As she unfolded the letter, her eyes skimmed the elegantly penned words. With each line, a cold dread settled over her.
“They’ve uninvited me,” she murmured, the words tasting foreign on her tongue. “For the sake of harmony and to protect the fundraising project.” The justification rang hollow, a carefully crafted excuse to mask a calculated slight.
She looked up, meeting Rockford’s gaze. The sympathy she found there threatened to undo her composure.
“I suspected this might happen,” Barrington interjected, his voice firm yet laced with frustration. “Hastings has been securing allies in high places, most notably, Earl Marchant and Viscount Montague.”
Adam’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “They uninvited you?” His voice was dangerously low before he refocused. “Marchant, the Surveyor General of Ordnance, and Montague, Deputy Secretary of the Board of Control? You think they’re involved with Hastings?”
Barrington nodded grimly. “It’s highly likely. They’ve been seen in several private meetings. Given their sway in society, their support could significantly bolster Hastings’ position.”
Rockford’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking just beneath the surface. “They’re the ones we’ve been investigating. They’re believed to be part of Hastings’ close circle. If they align against us, it would mean we’re close to finding the truth.”
A wave of dizziness washed over Lora. She pressed a hand to her temple, a headache blossoming behind her eyes. The room seemed to tilt slightly, the rich hues of the drapes and furnishings blurring at the edges.
“First Greene, now this,” she whispered, her voice touched with despair. “It feels like everything is coming apart.”
Adam stepped forward, his expression fierce and determined in a way she hadn’t seen before. “We need to act.” He glanced between Rockford and Lora. “If Hastings is consolidating power with Marchant and Montague, we have to expose them before—”
“The king arrives,” Lora finished, the seriousness of their predicament becoming obvious. She sank slowly into a nearby chair, momentarily sapped of her strength.
“Agreed,” Barrington said, his gaze steady. “But we need irrefutable evidence against them. Without it, any accusations we make could go very badly for us. They hold considerable influence.”
“There is another issue.” Barrington turned toward Rockford, Lora, and Adam. He took a brass button from his coat and handed it to Lora. “Can you identify this?”
Lora glanced at him and then at the brass piece, the threads still hanging from it. “There’s a signet on it.” She took a closer look. “A bird of sorts with its wings spread in front of a slanted rectangle, a diamond.” She handed it to her brother. “I’ve never seen it before. Why do you ask?”
Barrington exchanged a glance with Adam before passing the button to Rockford.
“Order of Shadows,” was all Rockford said. “It’s a clandestine crime organization known for its ruthless tactics and extensive network of informants. They operate in the shadows, manipulating events and people to their advantage. Their influence reaches the highest echelons of society.”
“We’ve encountered them before,” Barrington said.
Rockford crossed the room and sat beside her, his presence grounding her against the tide of uncertainty. “They can whisper and maneuver all they like. But we won’t let them take this from you.”
She took a deep breath, drawing on every ounce of inner strength. “What do I need to do?”
Barrington offered a small, reassuring smile. “Your connections could be invaluable. If you can discreetly gather information from your social circle, it might lead us to the evidence we need.”
Lora’s gaze dropped to her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Under the current situation, I’m not sure my connections are as valuable as you think.” A hint of bitterness crept into her tone. “Hastings has undermined each of us. Invitations have been withdrawn; whispers follow me wherever I go.”
“Not everyone has turned away.” Adam placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “He thinks he has, but there are still resources at our disposal.”
She looked up at him, surprised by the fervor in his voice. “I’ve never seen you so adamant.”
He offered a faint smile. “I’ll spend some time with some of my contacts. Perhaps there’s something I can pick up, people who are discontent with Hastings or have noticed irregularities.”
“Rockford and I will concentrate on the financial records and transactions,” Barrington added, his strategic mind already at work. He glanced at Rockford. “Hughes is here from London. We can see if he has any information. He’s an excellent solicitor with resources that could be quite helpful.”
Rockford nodded. “He might be able to trace any unauthorized movements of funds or uncover discrepancies that tie back to Hastings and his allies.”
A fragile hope flickered within Lora. “Perhaps Harriet can help,” she mused aloud. “I’m expected at tea today. It might provide an opportunity to gauge where others stand and perhaps learn more.”
Barrington regarded her thoughtfully. “That could be advantageous, but you must be cautious. We can’t risk anyone knowing we are aware of what is happening too soon.”
“I understand,” she affirmed. “I’ll tread carefully.”
The room fell into a pensive silence, the enormity of their predicament settling upon them.
Adam was the first to speak. “We should move quickly. Time is not on our side. The twenty-first is only four days away.”
Barrington straightened. “Agreed. Let’s regroup this evening to share any developments.”
Lora stood, squaring her shoulders. “Thank you, all of you.”
As the group began to disperse, Adam approached Rockford. “A moment, if you will. I have a matter I’d like to discuss with you, but not here.”
“Of course, feel free to come this afternoon. I have some fine brandy we can share, and we won’t have to filch it from my father’s study.” Rockford clasped Adam’s shoulder, a wide, mischievous smile blooming on his face.
The others were gone, but Rockford lingered. “Lora,” he said softly, “if there’s anything you need, any support, I hope you know you can call on me.”
She offered a genuine smile, her eyes reflecting gratitude and something deeper. “I do. And it means more than you know.”
He nodded a silent promise passing between them.
Lora allowed herself a moment to absorb everything before straightening her shoulders. There was much to do, and she would not let Hastings unravel everything they had fought for.
“Anna, it’s time to get ready for tea.”
Anna carefully arranged the gown on the bed, her eyes twinkling with pride. “This soft lavender muslin will suit you perfectly for tea at Miss Harriet’s, my lady.”
“That will be perfect.”