Lora nodded, a determined light reigniting in her gaze. “I won’t shy away from the truth, whatever it may be.”
“That’s the Lora I know.” Harriet pulled her into a brief hug.
Lora drew a deep breath as she stepped out into the fading midday light. The air was crisp, carrying the briny scent of the North Sea and a hint of unknown possibilities. Her emotions still swirled, but they were tempered now by a renewed determination. Whether through patience or action, she would find her way forward.
*
Lora’s impatience grewas the day waned, her mind swirling with unanswered questions and the growing fear that something was deeply amiss. Every moment of silence chipped away at her composure, leaving her restless and uneasy.Harriet means well.She paced the length of the drawing room.But she doesn’t feel this suffocating uncertainty. I can’t just sit here and wait while everything feels like it’s slipping away.Her stubbornness refused to let the matter rest. She needed to take matters into her own hands.
But where to begin? The memory of Rockford’s kiss lingered like a bittersweet echo, stirring vulnerability she had long guarded against. Opening her heart had been a risk, and now the silence made her question if it had been worth it. Her fingertips grazed her bottom lip absentmindedly, recalling the warmth and tenderness of his kiss. It had stirred something deep within her, a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to feel. Opening her heart had always been her greatest fear, and now, that fear threatened to consume her.
“How could he…” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the vastness of the room. A surge of frustration welled up and mingled with the lingering ache of disappointment. She had let down her guard and shared a piece of herself she had kept hidden from the world, and now he had retreated into silence.
“Enough,” she declared aloud, the word echoing off the ornate plasterwork of the ceiling. The determined tone startled her but ignited a spark of conviction in her chest. She would not be left in the dark nor allow her emotions to make her powerless.
Crossing swiftly to her writing desk, she pulled out a sheet of fine stationery. The familiar scent of parchment and ink offered a small comfort. She sat, the delicate chair creaking softly beneath her, and took up her quill. Her hand hovered overthe page for a moment, her thoughts racing. Should she express the depth of her confusion? The hurt? No—her pride bristled at the thought. No, something neutral. Perhaps it would be best to address him under the guise of their shared responsibility. The gala. It was reasonable to contact him without revealing her inner turmoil.
She penned a concise note:
Dear Lord Rockford,
I hope this letter finds you well. As the date of the gala draws near, there are several pressing matters that require your attention. Your guidance is essential to ensure the event’s success. Might we arrange a time at your earliest convenience to discuss the details?
Warm regards,
Lora
She read over the note, satisfied that it conveyed urgency without giving way to her personal frustrations. It was formal yet personal enough to prompt a reply.
Sealing the envelope with her signet, she summoned a footman.
“Please ensure this letter is delivered to His Grace immediately,” she instructed. “It is important that he receives it as soon as possible.”
“At once, my lady,” he replied, taking the letter with careful hands before departing swiftly.
As the door closed behind him, Lora let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She hoped that invoking the gala would prompt Rockford to respond. After all, they had committed to working on it together, and the approaching date necessitated collaboration.
Hours slipped by with no reply. She attempted to occupy herself reviewing guest lists, and coordinating the vendors, but her mind kept drifting back to him. The silence was maddening, each passing moment amplifying her concern.
The day waned, and twilight shadows crept across the room. Lora stood by the window, staring at nothing in particular. The sky blazed with hues of amber and crimson, but the beauty did little to soothe her restlessness.
The sky outside darkened, she lit a few candles, their flickering light cast long shadows that danced on the walls. She reviewed the inventory list Harriet had given her to identify what her household could provide. She glanced at the clock again, her heart sinking with each passing minute.
She added the responses that arrived in the day’s mail to the guest list, scanning its contents without really reading it, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Rockford. The silence was maddening, a constant reminder of her growing anxiety. Every creak of the house, every rustle of the curtains stirred by the evening breeze, made her heart jump.
No matter how she tried to occupy herself, Lora kept returning to the window, staring into the darkness. Each moment of silence deepened her unease.
As the hours slipped by and Rockford’s silence stretched unbroken, a thought pierced her mind—a man of his word would not ignore something so important. Something was wrong. Her impatience sharpened into steely conviction. “If he refuses to respond, then I’ll find the truth myself,” she resolved, her reflection in the glass hardening with purpose. Her stubbornness refused to let the matter rest. She would seek answers, even if it meant stepping beyond the bounds of propriety.
She rang for Anna.
“Please have my riding habit available early in the morning and ask the stable master to have Astra ready at first light,” Lora instructed, her voice calm but resolute. This was not a decision she made lightly, but one born of necessity and an unwavering determination to confront the unknown. “Tomorrow I shall be riding early.”
Anna looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across her features. It was uncommon for Lora to request her riding attire at such an hour. “Very good, my lady,” she replied, curtsying slightly.
“I’ll need a small satchel as well.”
“Of course,” Anna said, though curiosity lingered in her gaze. “Will there be anything else?”
