“To safeguard your reputation,” he continued gently, “it would be best if His Grace escorted you back to Fallsmith Hall as soon as possible. In the meantime, perhaps we could briefly discuss the urgent matters pertaining to Hastings.”
“Luckily, I came prepared.” She gestured toward the table.
“I see.” Barrington smiled. Rockford took it in for what it was, a smile of contrition.
Had he or Barrington thought for one minute she was there to… No, she was a bluestocking, but even she had her limits, although, to be with him…
The firelight cast flickering shadows across their faces, dancing in tandem with their thoughts. Barrington’s fingers drummed on the table, his brow knit in thought. Lora, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, sat quietly, determined to move her musing to something more acceptable.
“Time is not on our side,” Barrington began, his tone serious. “We have nine days to capture the highwayman and find out who he works for. Every moment counts.”
Lora listened as she absorbed the importance of what Barrington and Rockford discussed. But her mind was already turning over the possibilities and implications.
Barrington unrolled the parchment and carefully spread a detailed map on the table. He bent over it, examining the area around Sommer-by-the-Sea. “Timothy Wilkins is the royal courier who will be riding tomorrow. He will courier the pouch to the king in Royston Mills,” he said, his eyes tracing the route. He straightened up and let out a breath. “It’s only a half day’s journey from here.” He bent down, scrutinizing the map.
In the quiet moment, with Barrington reviewing the map, Lora whispered, “Thank you.”
Rockford nodded slightly, his eyes conveying more than words ever could.
“Do you agree?” Barrington asked, still concentrating on the map.
“Timothy’s usual route passes through these areas.” Rockford traced a finger along the route. “Based on previous attacks, we’ve identified two prime locations where the highwayman is likely to strike.”
Lora leaned in, her keen eyes scanning the details. She moved closer, her glance following the roads. “Those are two different roads,” she observed, her voice thoughtful. She lifted her head and looked at Rockford. “They converge near the old Stonefield farm at the edge of town, at Stonefield Crossing.His son converted it into an inn. It’s secluded, where the highwayman could plot and plan and not be disturbed.”
Barrington’s eyes widened as he took in her words. He quickly masked his surprise with a controlled expression, one he gave out sparingly. “Well done.” His expression then shifted to one of genuine admiration. “That’s a valuable observation, Lora. We can use that to our advantage.”
“Peter Simms and Simon Watts arrived a few days ago. They were joined by Thomas Greene, who has been working for me for the last six months,” Barrington continued. “They will be instrumental in this operation. Simms, our master of concealment, will shadow the highwayman without detection. Watts, with his exceptional marksmanship and tactical expertise, stands ready to intercept and counter any threat. And Greene, with his expertise, in counterintelligence. In his case, undercover and in Hastings’ employ.”
Rockford leaned over the map, his gaze intense. He tapped the map at the two places near the farm. “We can position Simms and Watts at these two locations.” He indicated a bend in the road on the north and another on the south approaches to the old Stonefield farm. “This way, we cover both possible routes and the area around the farm.”
“Agreed,” Barrington said, his tone decisive. “Tim departs tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. We must all be ready by then. He got to his feet. “There isn’t much more we can do here.”
Rockford folded the map carefully, glancing at his companions. “We’ll use Rockford Manor as our headquarters.”
Barrington nodded in agreement. “I’ll take the south road. We’ll cover every inch.”
“And I’ll take the north road,” Rockford added. His gaze shifted to Lora. “Can you be at Rockford Manor by eight o’clock in the morning?”
Lora straightened, meeting his eyes. “By all means. What would you have me do?”
“I need your keen eyes to review the map and routes.” Rockford’s tone was determined, reflecting the gravity of their mission. “Identify any potential escape routes or contingency plans the highwayman could have. If you find anything, give the information to Jeffers. He will bring it to me immediately. You don’t have to do this—”
“I know I don’t, but I want to.” Lora’s determination and trepidation flared in her eyes.
Satisfied, Rockford placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You are the best person for this assignment.”
Barrington addressed Lora. “I agree with Rockford. Your involvement is an asset and greatly appreciated, but we must prioritize your safety and reputation.” He shook his head gently. “These are challenging times. We must all be cautious.”
As they prepared to depart, Barrington spoke privately to Rockford once more.
“Make sure she’s seen returning from a respectable direction. The last thing we need is unnecessary scrutiny,” he advised. “Perhaps suggest that you encountered one another during an afternoon ride.”
“You needn’t be concerned,” Rockford assured him.
Barrington clasped his shoulder briefly, then waved his goodbye to Lora. “Take care, my friends.” He mounted his horse and turned back toward Sommer-by-the-Sea. As Rockford and Lora watched him disappear into the woods, the impact of the conversation settled over them.
*
