“Not at all,” she assured him. “We were just about to enjoy some tea. Would you care to join us?”
His gaze flitted to Lora, then back to Harriet. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense.” Harriet turned to Lora. “I just remembered there’s a matter I must speak to Mrs. Kelly about concerning the gala invitations. Please make yourself comfortable. Lora could use the company.”
Before either could protest, Harriet excused herself with a subtle smile.
An awkward pause settled as the door closed behind her. Rockford took a tentative step forward, not knowing what he would face. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”
Lora managed a small smile. “You’re always welcome here.”
He clenched his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to reach for her, to reassure himself she was truly safe. “I came to see how you were faring.”
She lowered her gaze. “I’m perfectly fine.”
How could she say that after what she’d been through? “Are you?” He searched her eyes, desperation seeping into his tone,the same desperation he felt when he realized the depth of the consequences of their plan.
She sighed softly, the mask slipping just enough to reveal a hint of the turmoil beneath. “It’s been a long day.”
“I can only imagine,” he murmured, the words tasting bitter. How his heart pounded when he found her in that lodge. The fear, the rage, the helplessness. “You went through quite an ordeal.”
She looked up sharply, a flash of warning in her eyes. “Please, not here.”
He straightened, biting back his impulse to respond. His own pain was nothing compared to hers, but it gnawed at him just the same. “Of course.” He tilted his head. “My apologies.”
Mrs. Kelly returned, carrying a tray with a fresh pot of chamomile tea and a plate of delicate lemon biscuits. “Here we are. Shall I pour, my lady?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kelly, but I can manage.”
As the housekeeper departed, Rockford watched as Lora busied herself with the tea service, the clinking of porcelain providing a welcome distraction for her.
He noticed the slight tremor in her hands and refused to let her struggle further. He covered her hand with his.
Lora raised her chin and stared at her.
“I find I’d rather walk in the garden. It’s warm for October. Join me?”
She paused, and he watched as she silently debated. He hoped she would agree with the idea of open space, away from prying eyes.
“Yes, I think I would.” She picked up her wool shawl from the end of the chaise and wrapped it around herself.
She accepted his offered arm, and they made their way through the French doors into the gardens.
The Fallsmith garden paths were lined with manicured hedges and bursts of colorful blooms. The soft fragrance of roses mingled with the earthy scent of the late afternoon. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, whispering secrets only the trees knew. He and Lora went on.
As they walked silently next to each other, he noticed the more they walked, the more the tension lifted from her shoulders. They reached a secluded alcove with a stone bench nestled beneath a canopy of gold wisteria leaves tipped with red.
Lora paused. “Shall we sit for a moment?”
“Of course.” He hoped the garden walk was doing its magic.
They settled onto the bench, a comfortable distance apart.
“I appreciate your company, Rockford, but…” Lora hesitated. “There was no need for you to come.”
Rockford turned to face her, his expression a mix of worry and admiration. “Lora, I know you’ve been through an unimaginable ordeal.” His voice was gentle yet firm. “I wanted to be here, beside you, give you whatever strength you need. That’s what friends do. That’s what people…like us do.”
Every fiber of his being wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he restrained himself, aware that his turmoil mirrored hers. He took a deep breath, hoping it would calm him.
