Chapter Twenty-Nine
L ora moved with purpose as she descended the staircase, her footsteps echoing lightly against the polished wood. Outside, the carriage awaited, the coachman standing at attention. The sky overhead was a patchwork of clouds, hinting at the possibility of rain, a reflection of the anger building inside her.
She stared out the carriage window as the carriage set off toward Rockford’s estate. The familiar scenery passed by in a blur. With each turn of the wheel, she replayed conversations in her mind. The truth was there for all to see. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. Rockford needed to know what foolishness was afoot.
“Play me false. Really. Now, this gossip has gone too far. Hastings must be behind this with all the innuendo he was making.” she whispered to herself with conviction. The thought of his sincere affection strengthened her tenacity. Every moment she shared with Rockford, the warmth of his touch, the genuine look in his eyes, the tenderness of his kiss, was real.
“What if he denies it?” The question surfaced, but she dismissed it quickly. “Of course, he will deny it. Because it’s a lie.” She tightened her grip on the letter. Rockford would be as outraged as she was. Someone was out to ruin his reputation, and she would not stand for it.
The carriage jolted slightly over a rut in the road, pulling her from her thoughts. She took a steadying breath. She would remain composed regardless of how Rockford might rant. This letter was a cruel ploy, and they would confront it together.
Moments later, the carriage slowed as it approached the manor. As they came to a halt, a footman hurried forward to assist her. Lora stepped out. Her heart pounded with each step toward the entrance, but she held her head high, feeling like an angel of mercy coming to help him.
“Good day, Lady Lora,” Mr. Turner bowed. “Is His Grace expecting you?”
She offered a tight smile. “Perhaps not, but I’m certain he’ll see me.”
“Of course, milady. Please, this way.”
She followed the footman through the familiar halls. They paused outside the door to Rockford’s study. “One moment, milady.” He knocked discreetly.
A muffled response came from within. The footman opened the door. “Lady Lora to see you, Your Grace.”
Rockford looked up from the papers spread across his desk, surprise flashing across his features before being replaced with a warm smile. “Lora.” He rose quickly to his feet. “This is a delightful surprise.”
She stepped into the room, her gaze steady. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Never,” he assured, moving around the desk to greet her. “What brings you here?” His eyes searched hers.
For a heartbeat, she hesitated, emotions swirling beneath her composed exterior. “The Duke of Rockford’s courtship of Lady Lora was initiated under false pretenses…” echoed in her head. She swallowed hard. “Harriet received something absurd that you should know about. I am sure you will know what must be done.”
His smile faltered slightly. “Of course. Shall we sit?” He gestured toward the pair of armchairs by the window.
She nodded, allowing him to lead the way. Once seated, she turned to face him fully, holding his gaze.
“What did Lady Harriet receive?”
“An anonymous note making certain… allegations about you.”
A trace of apprehension crossed his face. “Allegations?” he echoed cautiously.
She drew a breath, steeling herself. “It claims that your courtship of me was… orchestrated for ulterior motives. That you never truly cared for me.”
He stiffened, a shadow passing over his face. “Lora, this isn’t what you think. Please, just let me explain.”
Her face fell. Explain? The word echoed, sharp as a knife. The urgency in his voice should have reassured her, but instead, it cut deeper. Her heart clenched painfully at his response. The lack of immediate denial struck like a blow. “This is true?” Pain threaded through her words as she dreaded his answer. “You played me false?”
He instinctively reached for her hand, but she recoiled, pulling her hands into her lap. “Please, let me explain,” he implored, anguish evident in his eyes.
“Explain what?” she demanded, her composure beginning to crack. “That I was a means to an end? A pawn in whatever scheme you’re entangled in?”
He hesitated, guilt and determination etched into his features. “When we met at the tearoom, I was involved in matters of great importance that required discretion. At first, my intentions were…not entirely personal.”
She laughed bitterly, tears brimming in her eyes. “Not entirely personal? That’s a rather delicate way to admit deceit.”
“Lora, please,” he pleaded. “What started as necessity quickly changed. My feelings for you grew and became real in a way I hadn’t anticipated.”
“Real?” She stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away. “How am I to believe anything you say now? Every smile, every whispered word, your kisses, was any of it genuine?”
He rose, desperation coloring his tone. “Yes! More than anything. You must believe me.”
She spun to face him, fury and hurt blazing in her eyes. “Believe you? After admitting you deceived me from the start?” Her voice shook. “You let me fall in love. You encouraged me to fall in love with you, and all along…”
He flinched at her words. “I never meant to hurt you. I thought—”
“You thought what?” she cut in sharply. “That I wouldn’t find out? That the ends justified the means?”
“I was trying to protect you.” He stepped closer, his voice firm. “There are dangerous forces at play. I kept you in the dark to keep you safe.”
She shook her head, tears spilling over. “By lying to me? By making me a fool in the eyes of others, in my own?” Her voice broke. “If you needed me to play a part, you should have said so.”
He reached out again, his voice thick with emotion. “Lora, I’m sorry. If I could undo the pain I’ve caused you, I would.”
She took a step back, raising a hand to stop him. “It’s too late for apologies. And I don’t want any.”
His shoulders sagged. He was at a loss for the first time since she knew him. “Tell me how to make this right. I’ll do anything.”
Silence stretched between them, taut and heavy. She drew in a shaky breath. “You can start by telling me the whole truth.”
He nodded earnestly. “I will. No more secrets. I swear it.”
She studied him for a long moment, vulnerability and determination warring within her. “Why now?” she whispered. “Why not before I had to confront you?”
Rockford hesitated, then spoke with quiet intensity. “Because I was afraid. Not of losing you, but of what I might become without you. I can face any enemy, but not the thought of you hating me.”
A bitter smile touched her lips. “And yet, by hiding the truth, you’ve lost me, anyway.”
He visibly paled. “Please don’t say that.”
She closed her eyes briefly, composing herself. “I see nothing to salvage here.”
“Lora—”
“Goodbye, Your Grace,” she said firmly, the use of his title deliberate to distance herself from him.
She turned and walked toward the door. Just as she reached for the handle, his voice stopped her.
“Lora, I love you.” His voice was soft and passionate. His words trembled in the air.
She paused but didn’t turn around. “Some declarations come too late.”
She left his study, the door behind her closed with a resounding click. She headed to the entrance. She wanted to run down the hall to get out of the manor, but she took a breath and walked down the cold grand hallway that echoed as she moved away from him.
Descending the front steps, she fought to steady her breathing. The gardens outside were vibrant under the afternoon sun. As she climbed into her carriage, her composure finally crumbled. Tears flowed freely as the horses pulled away, the manor shrinking behind her.
Memories flooded her mind, the warmth of his smile, the touch of his hand, the laughter they shared. Each recollection pierced her heart. Had any of it been real? Or was it merely a well-crafted illusion?
She pressed a hand to her chest, the ache almost unbearable. “I thought I knew him,” she whispered brokenly. “Perhaps I never did.”
The journey home blurred past, her thoughts a storm of emotions. Betrayal, hurt, love, and longing all intertwined into one. By the time she reached Fallsmith Manor, a numbness had set in.
Retreating to the sanctuary of her room, she sank onto the window seat, gazing unseeingly at the horizon.
“How do I move forward from this?” she murmured to herself.
As twilight deepened, her confidence grew stronger. Rockford would not break her. But whether she could forgive or trust him again remained a question.
A gentle knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts. “Lora, it’s me—Harriet,” her friend’s voice called softly from the other side of the door. “May I come in?”
Lora clenched her hands in her lap, her knuckles white. “Not now, Harriet,” Lora managed between breaths.
“Please,” Harriet persisted, a note of concern threading through her words.
For a moment, Lora stared blankly at the intricate pattern of the rug, Rockford’s deception pressing heavily on her chest. Finally, with a weary sigh, she relented. “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and Harriet slipped inside, her eyes immediately searching Lora’s face. Without a word, she crossed the room and sat beside her on the window seat, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.
Lora drew a shaky breath. “He admitted it,” she said hoarsely, her gaze fixed on the rain-speckled glass. “He played me false.”
Harriet’s expression softened, her brow knitting with empathy. “Oh, Lora… I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Lora whispered, her voice quivering. “Part of me wants to hate him, but” she glanced up at Harriet, tears running down her cheek. “…I can’t.”
“Feelings are seldom simple,” Harriet murmured gently. “But perhaps there’s more to his story than we know.”
Lora turned to face her, anger flashing in her tear-filled eyes. “He lied to me, Harriet. Deceived me completely. How can there be more?”
Harriet held her gaze. “People can make mistakes, sometimes with the best intentions. Only you can decide whether to seek the truth and forgive.”
Lora swiped at her tears angrily. “He shattered my trust. Why should I give him the benefit of the doubt?”
Harriet hesitated before speaking, choosing her words carefully. “Because I’ve been hearing things, rumblings among the social circles. The same rumors are spreading, and it seems the accusations aren’t isolated.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Lora’s face. “It wasn’t just one letter?”
Harriet shook her head slowly. “No. It appears someone has been very deliberate in spreading these rumors. Many of the people I’ve spoken to received similar anonymous letters. The content and timing are alarming.”
Lora’s brow furrowed, confusion mingling with her hurt. “But what could be the motive? Why go to such lengths to defame Rockford and implicate me?”
“There are a few possibilities.” Harriet took her hand and leaned in slightly. “Some suggest it might be out of envy or social rivalry. Rockford’s recent actions could have unsettled certain individuals. Others believe it could be tied to financial interests, particularly regarding the art auction and a commission he’s rumored to have received.”
Lora frowned deeply. “But that’s not true. He didn’t receive a commission. In fact, he paid the art dealer’s commission himself. He wouldn’t accept any reimbursement even though I authorized the draft.”
Harriet’s eyes widened slightly. “Don’t you see? If they have that wrong, perhaps other details are fabricated as well. Someone is manipulating the narrative.”
Lora’s mind raced, the pieces of a larger puzzle beginning to surface. “He admitted to me that he hasn’t been truthful,” she murmured. “But that still doesn’t explain who would orchestrate this or why.”
Harriet squeezed her hand gently. “Lora, you know him better than anyone. If you believe there’s more to the story, then shouldn’t you be the one to uncover it?”
Harriet lowered her voice. “I discovered something troubling. Viscount Montague met with several government colleagues and Hastings around the same time these letters began circulating.”
Lora’s eyes narrowed, suspicion sharpening her features. “Montague and Hastings? But Montague is the Deputy Secretary of the Board of Control.”
“With responsibility for finance.”
She met Harriet’s gaze. “What could they gain from discrediting Rockford or sabotaging the clinic?”
“I have to admit, it’s difficult to say. But their involvement suggests this is more than petty gossip.” Harriet bent close to Lora. “There might be a larger scheme here, perhaps involving political conspiracies and financial gain.”
A heavy silence settled between them as Lora grappled with the implications. Her emotions churned. Betrayal and anger had taken second place to a growing determination.
“Thank you, Harriet. This changes everything. If there’s a plot against Rockford and possibly the clinic, we must uncover the truth.”
Harriet placed a reassuring hand on Lora’s arm. “We’ll find out what’s truly going on, no matter how deeply it’s buried.”
Lora nodded, a flicker of hope igniting. “But I can’t confront Hastings and Montague, not yet. Not until we know exactly what they are planning. I need to be certain before I take any further steps.”
Harriet squeezed her hand gently. “We, Lora. We need to be certain. We’ll be cautious. Perhaps we can discreetly gather more information. It has worked before. We can speak to those who might know something without arousing suspicion.”
Lora took a deep breath, the tension easing. “Thank you, Harriet. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her friend gave her a warm look. “I have a vested interest in seeing justice served.”
A hint of a smile touched Lora’s lips. “And what is that?”
“In my heart of hearts, I cannot see Rockford playing you false. There is something more to this, and I will move heaven and earth to help you find what that is. Now, let’s consider our next steps…”
*
Elsewhere, Hastings sat in his dimly lit study, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The news of Lora’s confrontation with Rockford had reached him swiftly. His plan was unfolding perfectly.
“The first act is complete,” he mused aloud, savoring the words. “Now, for the final curtain.”
He reached for a message that had been slipped under his door. All is ready.
He tossed the message onto the other papers on the desk. Of course, all was ready. All he had to do was wait. Tonight. Tomorrow morning. It didn’t matter. As long as he got the results for which he paid.
Hastings leaned back, his eyes gleaming with malice. “By morning, the Duke of Rockford will be nothing more than a tragic memory.”