“That will be all for tonight. Thank you, Anna,” Lora offered a reassuring smile, hoping to quell any unspoken questions.
As Anna left the room, Lora released a slow breath. She turned back to the window as the stars grew brighter against the velvet sky. The silver glow of the crescent moon cast gentle shadows across the estate grounds. The tranquil estate seemed to mock her turmoil. Its serene beauty contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions within her, each shadow outside reflecting the unanswered questions that haunted her.
“Whatever you’re hiding, Rockford,” she vowed, her gaze fixed on the crescent moon. “I’ll uncover the truth, no matter the cost.”
Chapter Sixteen
11 October 1822
For Lora, thenight passed fitfully. Sleep came in pieces, her dreams a tangle of fragmented images, a waltz under shimmering chandeliers, whispers in shadowed corridors, the echo of Rockford’s voice calling her name. She awoke before dawn, the faint blush of sunrise just beginning to lighten the horizon.
Lora dressed quickly, with practiced efficiency. The deep green riding habit fit her perfectly. The tailored lines accentuated her form. She pulled on her polished boots and fastened the silver buttons of her fitted jacket. Standing before the mirror, she pinned her hair neatly beneath a simple velvet hat, allowing a few tendrils to escape and frame her face.
Her reflection gazed back with a steadfast expression. There was no room for hesitation now. She retrieved the small satchel Anna had prepared, ensuring she had all she might need for the journey: a map, a small pouch of coins, and her papers for the events.
Quietly descending the grand staircase, Lora moved through the silent house. The staff would not expect her this early, and she preferred to leave without their attention. As she stepped outside, the cool morning air embraced her, carrying the fresh scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming heather.
Her mare, Astra, awaited her alert and ready, just as Lora had instructed. The chestnut coat gleamed in the soft light, and Astra nickered softly at Lora’s approach.
“Good morning, girl,” Lora whispered, stroking Astra’s sleek neck. “We’ve a journey ahead of us.”
She secured her satchel and mounted gracefully, settling into the saddle with ease. With a gentle nudge, they set off down the drive, hooves muffled against the earth.
The world was awash with the colors of dawn, rosy pinks fading into golden yellows as the sun began to rise. The countryside stretched before her, a patchwork of rolling hills, lush green fields, and hedgerows still cloaked in the remnants of morning mist.
As they rode, Lora’s thoughts churned as she recalled how Rockford often sought solitude at his family’s hunting lodge near Briarcliff Woods. If he was anywhere, her instincts told her she would find him there.
The journey was not a short one, but Lora was an accomplished rider, and Astra’s stamina and steady pace ate up the miles with ease. The crisp air sharpened her focus as each stride brought her closer to the answers she sought.
They followed the River Sommer for an hour and a half until she reached Stonefield’s Crossing, the halfway point. Lora stretched her legs and watched as Astra drank from the cool river. Lora glanced westward. The old road would take her past the old Stonefield farm and Royston Mills beyond. But she was bound north to the woods.
What would she say when he opened the door? Should she be nonchalant? Concerned? Angry?
She glanced south. This was a fool’s mission.
Astra raised and shook her head. “Had enough? Then we best be on our way.”
She should go home. Lora took the reins draped over her saddle, mounted Astra, and headed north, admitting to herself, at least, that she was the fool.
Thirty minutes later, she approached the fringes of the forest, where the trees were denser and their branches intertwined overhead, forming a canopy. The path narrowed, winding through the ancient woodland as shafts of sunlight danced through the foliage, lighting patches of wildflowers that dotted the underbrush.
They rode on another hour before the lodge came into view. It was a stately yet rustic timber and stone structure blending into its surroundings. Smoke curled lightly from the chimney. Someone was there.
Lora brought Astra to the hitching post, dismounted, and removed her satchel. Her boots crunched softly on the gravel path. She took a moment to steady herself, smoothing her skirt and taking a deep breath. The lodge was well situated, but she didn’t hear the soft song of the birds or the gentle rustling of leaves that filled the air. Her nerves fluttered. She closed her eyes. “Foolish girl,” she muttered.
With her satchel in hand, she approached the heavy oak door and hesitated. Finally, she lifted the brass knocker and let it drop.
*
Rockford sat bythe hearth, the warmth of the fire doing little to ease the chill of his troubled thoughts. He turned the letter from Barrington over in his hands. The mission was becoming increasingly complex. Being close to Lora was supposed to be a means to an end, to gather information on Hastings. But now, emotions had entangled that plan.
He rubbed his temples, closing his eyes. “What am I doing?” he muttered. The lines between duty and desire were blurred. The king was arriving in ten days, and time was running short. Yet, the thought of deceiving Lora any further was unbearable.
A fall of the brass knocker at the door pulled him from his reverie. His brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Rising cautiously, he crossed the room and opened the door.
“Lora?”
She stood before him, determination and vulnerability flashed in her eyes. “Good morning, Rockford,” she said evenly. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
