requests the honor of yourpresence
at a Gala to be heldat
Fallsmith Manor
on the 20th of September1822
at 7 o’clock in theevening
Hosted by Lady Lora and Viscount AdamWesley
RSVP by the 10th ofSeptember
A smaller note was tucked inside, written in Adam’s familiar hand.
Rockford,
My apologies for the late notice. The family hopes you can attend.
Adam.
A slight smile touched his lips. “That will be an interesting evening.” He placed the invitation on his desk along with other correspondence that needed his response.
Chapter Three
20 September 1822
As Rockford’s carriagerolled along King’s Way, he gazed absently at the passing countryside, his mind consumed by the events of the past fortnight. It had been over two weeks since his return to Sommer-by-the-Sea, and he had wasted no time immersing himself in the investigation. Whispers of his scandal in London had followed him here. Small towns thrived on gossip, and while he paid it little heed, he couldn’t entirely dismiss the way it sharpened the townsfolk’s curiosity about his movements.
The elusive highwayman had not struck during this time, even though the royal courier had been dispatched four times. Peculiar. Coincidence? He doubted it, especially given that his prime suspects had conveniently left town on each occasion.
Meanwhile, the village buzzed with chatter about Dr. Manning’s clinic expansion. The gossip grew more heated by the day. Opposition to the project seemed to be mounting, and Rockford suspected the very people he was investigating were behind it. Every conversation he overheard held a hint of something deeper as if the entire village spoke in a code he was only beginning to decipher.
Rockford leaned back against the carriage seat and considered his next move. The pieces were all there, he just needed to fit them together. Helping Lady Lora with the clinicmight do more than earn her gratitude. If the resistance to the clinic was connected to the larger plot he was investigating, then aiding her would not only be the right thing to do but also a strategic advantage.
Then, there was the scandal trailing behind him. As a duke, he enjoyed certain advantages. People still engaged with him, even if with caution. Yet their wariness worked to his benefit. Once they believed he was compromised, the people he was after would lower their guard, inadvertently revealing secrets they’d otherwise keep hidden. He could already feel the undercurrents shifting, each interaction a subtle maneuver in a larger game he was determined to win.
His carriage turned into the gate and down Fallsmith Manor’s drive. It had been some time since he was last here, and the sight of the imposing structure brought back a flood of memories.
The manor stood imposingly at the end of a long, tree-lined drive, its solid stone and brick facade projecting strength and permanence. The architecture confirmed the Fallsmith family’s wealth and influence, with ivy climbing its sturdy walls and large, mullioned windows reflecting the sun’s setting. An image of the manicured gardens came to mind, and the gate in the back stone wall that opened onto a path that meandered along the cliff’s edge. There was a perch where you could look out over the vast expanse of the North Sea.
Rockford recalled the evenings spent here, the grand gatherings and quiet moments alike. As the carriage drew closer, the elegance of the portico came into view. When the carriage came to a stop, Rockford stepped out and paused, noting with a touch of nostalgia that the manor stood just as it had the last time he’d visited. Venturing inside, he found everything as he remembered, the rich mahogany paneling, the black and white checkerboard marble floor with the Fallsmith family medallionin the center of the pattern. The intricate design was a hammer and anvil encircled by gilded rays of light. Around the edge, the family motto,Strength Forged in Honor.
“Good evening, Your Grace. It is good to see you again. Welcome back to Fallsmith Manor.”
“Good evening, Axbridge. It is good to be here.” He leaned in. “I’ll have to stop by and catch up on the local goings and comings.”
The very formal butler glanced at him and smiled. “Will the whiskey be pilfered from your father, Your Grace?”
“Not this time. I’ve upgraded to pilfering my own stock.” Rockford grinned. “I’ve learned a thing or two since my youth, Axbridge.”
The butler’s lips twitched, barely suppressing a smile. “I shall believe that when I see it, Your Grace.”
He followed Axbridge into the bustling ballroom. The room was alive with movement and sound. The light of the crystal chandeliers overhead danced across the gathering. The music played softly, but Rockford’s attention was elsewhere. He surveyed the crowd, noting familiar faces and potential allies. Laughter and conversation blended into a hum that filled the space, but he listened for particular voices, snippets of conversations that might interest him. For him, this gathering was more than a social event. It was an opportunity.
As Rockford made his way around the room, Lord Fallsmith approached him with a welcoming smile. “Rockford, it’s been far too long.” The earl extended his hand. His hair had greyed since Rockford last saw him, but his eyes still held the same sharp intelligence.
“Indeed, it has,” Rockford firmly shook Lord Fallsmith’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, my lord.”
