Chapter Thirty-One
19 October 1822
R ockford stood at the edge of the estate’s lake, the still water reflecting the overcast sky. He skipped a stone across the surface, watching as the ripples distorted his reflection. The cool breeze carried the scent of rain, a hint of the storm lingering in the air and in his thoughts. He held a smooth stone, his thumb tracing the familiar contours. With a swift flick of his wrist, he sent it skimming across the surface, one, two, three skips before disappearing into the water.
How did it come to this? The attempt on his life lingered in his mind like a dark shadow, but it was the hurt in Lora’s eyes that haunted him the most. The memory of her face when he’d confessed his deception cut deeper than any physical wound.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed Barrington approaching until he was beside him, skipping a stone across the lake. “Six skips,” Barrington noted a hint of satisfaction in his tone.
Rockford managed a faint smile. “Show-off,” he muttered, but his heart wasn’t in the jest.
Barrington glanced at him sideways. “You used to beat me every time when we were children. You’ve lost your touch.”
“Perhaps,” Rockford replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Or maybe I’ve got heavier stones to carry these days.”
Barrington’s expression softened. “You’re thinking about her.”
Rockford sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t get her out of my mind. The pain I’ve caused… it’s unbearable.”
“Have you heard from her?” Barrington ventured cautiously.
Rockford kicked at the stones on the ground. “She came to the manor last night only to see how I fared. Turner suggested she see me, but she declined,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to see me again.” He took a deep breath. “But I made my decision.” He turned to Barrington. “It appears so has she.”
Barrington’s gaze softened. “Give her time. Lora is nothing if not resilient. Last night’s incident was a close call. If you hadn’t jumped when you did, the carriage would have crushed you. How are you truly feeling?”
“A few bruises,” Rockford admitted, rolling his shoulder to ease the stiffness. “Dr. Manning was here earlier. We agreed to let it be known that I’m in critical condition. It might buy us some time. Do you have any news?”
Barrington picked up another stone, weighing it in his hand. “Hastings and his associates are making bold moves. Your bank received documents this morning alleging fraudulent activities. They’ve been asked to seize your assets. Montague is the one pushing it.”
Rockford scoffed, anger flashing in his eyes. “Montague? They must be confident to act so openly.” Rockford clenched his fists, the stone digging into his palm. The realization sank in—this wasn’t just another move in their game. This was an execution. The noose was tightening, and soon, there would be no escape.
“I told Edward about the Order of Shadows. It changes everything. They are getting bolder, especially targeting a peer of the realm. He will handle the financial issues along with Hughes,” Barrington assured him. “He’ll stall Hastings, but uprooting their entire scheme will take time.”
“Time we don’t have,” Rockford said grimly. “His Majesty arrives in two days. If Hastings poisons him against me before then…”
Barrington placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need to get you out of sight temporarily. Come, stay with my brother. It’s safer, and we can strategize from there.”
Rockford shook his head firmly. “Running now would only fuel their accusations. Besides, I can’t leave Lora unprotected. Hastings won’t hesitate to use her to get to me.”
“Then we’ll find a way to expose Hastings and protect those we care about,” Barrington said.
Rockford looked at him, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
They began walking along the shoreline, the gravel crunching under their boots. The tranquility of the setting was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that raged inside Rockford.
*
In the heart of the Fallsmith Manor garden, Lora sat on a worn stone bench beneath the branches of an ancient oak. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Memories of sun-drenched afternoons with Rockford when they were young and their innocent laughter came unbidden and mingled with the chaos in her heart.
In her hand, she clutched a letter with Hastings’ carefully penned words offering support. She read it again, her eyes narrowing at the feigned concern.
My dearest Lady Lora,
I am deeply troubled by the hardships you face. Know that I am here for you, ready to offer support in any way you need.
Yours sincerely,
Hastings
She crumpled the letter as anger and exhaustion washed over her. “How dare he,” she muttered.
Harriet stood by her and waited. She was with her when the letter arrived.
Lora turned to face her, holding out the letter. “Look at this. Hastings pretends to be my sincere friend, but it feels all wrong.”
Harriet scanned the letter, her expression mirroring Lora’s disdain. “It’s disturbingly convenient, isn’t it? Especially after the accident.”
Lora nodded. “Hastings can’t be trusted, especially where Rockford is concerned. Every moment of kindness, every carefully chosen word, it was all part of his game. And I nearly believed him.”
“Have you heard any news?” Harriet asked gently as she put the letter on the garden bench.
“I went to Rockford Manor as soon as Axbridge gave me the news,” Lora replied, swallowing hard. “The footman, James said he’s resting and that his condition is serious. He asked if I wanted to see him. But I couldn’t, not yet.” She turned to Harriet, not caring about the tears that threatened to run down her face. “I just needed to know he wasn’t…”
Harriet placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Rockford is strong. Father will not let anything happen to him. He really is an excellent doctor.”
“I want to believe that.” Lora’s voice was a whisper, her gaze drifting back to the ground. “But everything is collapsing around him. Hastings is attacking his reputation and seizing his assets. And now this letter…”
“Then we can’t stand idly by,” Harriet declared, determination lighting her eyes. “We will take action.”
Lora looked at her friend, a spark of hope igniting. “What do you suggest?”
Harriet smiled slyly. “Let’s discuss it over tea. I have some ideas that might just turn the tide. The first thing we need to do is speak to your Mr. Axbridge and the other servants.”
They linked arms and headed toward the house, leaving the crumpled letter on the bench, a discarded ploy of Hastings’ in their renewed commitment against him.