Chapter Twenty
13 October 1822
Lora perched onthe edge of the drawing room chaise, her hands knotted in her lap. The late afternoon light slanted through the windows, casting golden patterns on the Aubusson carpet. She traced its swirling designs with her gaze, willing the chaos in her mind to settle. Her fingers tightened, twisting a loose thread in the fabric of her gown. The delicate china clock on the mantel ticked steadily, each movement of its gilded hands marking a moment she wished would pass more quickly.
“Lady Lora,” She flinched, her hand flying to her chest. “Forgive me, my lady. I didn’t mean to startle you. Would you care for more tea?” Mrs. Kelly hovered near the untouched tea service with its gleaming teapot and unused porcelain cups.
Lora glanced up, her eyes momentarily unfocused. “Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Kelly. I’m quite all right.”
The housekeeper hesitated, worry lines etched on her face. “Very well, my lady.”
The housekeeper left the room, passing Harriet, who glided through in a swirl of autumn color muslin and reserved anxiety. Her concern for her dear friend was obvious by the set of her mouth and look in her eyes.
“There you are! I was beginning to think you’d hidden yourself away.” Harriet crossed the room with grace, then settled beside Lora. “I was here earlier but was told you weren’treceiving callers. Really, Lora, did your morning not go as you planned?”
Lora’s fingers tightened around the embroidered handkerchief. Its delicate fabric crumpled slightly under her grip. Planned? All she wanted to do was ensure the highwayman was delayed until Rockford arrived, not… “My morning ride was… more eventful than I anticipated.”
Harriet tilted her head. “Eventful? I don’t know if I should be concerned or delighted. Now you must tell me what happened. Did you encounter a dashing stranger on your ride?” She winked conspiratorially.
A flicker of something, fear, perhaps, flashed in Lora’s eyes before she masked it with a practiced smile. “Nothing of the sort. I merely lost track of time while riding and found myself farther from home than intended.”
Harriet studied her, the teasing glimmer in her eyes dimming. She let out a small sigh and took Lora’s hand gently. “Lora, forgive me. I was only trying to bring back your smile.” A pause. Then, more softly, “Mrs. Kelly mentioned you were out of sorts.”
Lora opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. How could she possibly convey the whirlwind of emotions in her head, the lingering dread, the relief, the confusion? She glanced toward the window to avoid Harriet reading more of her inner thoughts than she wanted.
“I’m just a bit tired,” she finally managed. “Perhaps planning the gala has been more difficult than I thought. I don’t know what I would do if you hadn’t agreed to help.”
Harriet’s gaze softened. She reached out, placing a gentle hand over Lora’s. “Then it’s settled. If you’re indebted to me, I demand we have fresh tea and not talk of tiring rides.”
Before Lora could protest, Harriet tugged on the bell pull. Mrs. Kelly reappeared as if summoned by intuition.
“Would you please bring a fresh pot of chamomile tea, Mrs. Kelly? And perhaps some of those lovely lemon biscuits?” Harriet requested with a warm smile.
“Of course, Lady Harriet.” The housekeeper’s glance flickered briefly to Lora with quiet understanding and relief.
As Harriet turned her attention back to Lora, she began chatting about the upcoming gala, her words a soothing hum that required little in the way of response. Lora appreciated the effort—Harriet’s unspoken gift of companionship without obligation.
Yet, beneath the veneer of casual conversation, Lora’s thoughts churned. ‘I enjoy a challenge.’ The sound of the highwayman’s voice, the flash of his eyes. The phantom sensations refused to fade, and the searing grip of his hand still burned on her arm. She resisted the urge to rub the spot, unwilling to draw Harriet’s notice.
“…and Lady Weatherby simply insists on wearing that atrocious feathered hat, can you imagine?” Harriet chattered, her nose wrinkling delicately. “Honestly, someone ought to advise her otherwise.”
Lora nodded absently. “It’s certainly… distinctive.”
Harriet observed her quietly for a moment. “You know, you don’t have to pretend with me.”
Lora’s gaze snapped to Harriet’s, a hint of apprehension in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that if something is bothering you, you can tell me,” Harriet replied softly. “You’ve been distant. It’s unlike you. Is it Rockford? Has he said anything, done something?”
“Not at all!” Lora’s eyes widened as she sharply shook her head. She hesitated, torn between the desire to confide and the instinct to protect herself, and perhaps Harriet, from the darkness of the day’s events. She took a steadying breath. “It’s just been a rather overwhelming day. That’s all.”
Before Harriet could press further, the drawing room door opened once more. Rockford stepped inside, his presence commanding yet welcome. Dressed impeccably, there was a subtle tension in his posture. His eyes immediately focused on Lora.
*
“Lord Rockford.” Harrietstood and greeted him with a pleasant surprise. “What brings you to Fallsmith Manor this afternoon?”
He offered a polite bow. “Good afternoon, Lady Harriet. I hope I’m not intruding.”
