Lora frowned and turned to Rockford. “Whose seal is that?”
Langley met her gaze. His expression was grave. “It’s from Mr. Thompson.”
“Thompson?” Rockford echoed. “Our mentor?”
Langley nodded. “Yes. Years ago, I encountered Hastings at a tavern. He was down on his luck, and I introduced him to Thompson, hoping to help him find honest work. But Hastings betrayed that trust. Thompson uncovered Hastings’s collusion with the enemy and documented everything.”
He handed the letter to Rockford.
Hastings’s face paled further. “You have no proof!” Hastings glanced around desperately, realizing his allies had abandoned him. “You can’t do this,” he spat. “This isn’t over! You may have won tonight, but you have no idea what you’ve set in motion. My reach extends further than you know, and sooner or later, you’ll see the consequences.”
Lora and Rockford exchanged a worried glance. Rockford stepped in front of Hastings, “Who else was involved?”
Hastings laughed bitterly. “You’ll find out soon enough. Or perhaps you’ll recognize the face of betrayal yourself.”
Moments later, Greene re-entered the room, dragging a sullen figure behind him.
“James?” Rockford turned to Barrington then back to James. “You’ve been our family footman for years.”
James avoided his gaze. “I never wanted to do it. But… I had no choice.”
Rockford’s eyes narrowed. “What leverage did he have against you, James?”
James looked up, his face pale. “My brother… he’s in debt, deep debt. Hastings promised to clear it and keep him out of debtor prison if I helped him.”
Barrington signaled to Peter and Simon. “Take him into the castle dungeon.”
“This isn’t over!” Hastings shouted as he was led away, his voice echoing down the corridor until it faded into silence.
For a long moment, the ballroom remained still, the weight of what had just transpired settling over every guest. Then,whispers rippled through the crowd, some murmuring in shock, others exchanging uneasy glances. A few stepped away, as if physically distancing themselves from the scandal that had unfolded before them.
Lora exhaled slowly, her fingers trembling at her sides. Rockford stood beside her, his jaw clenched, his gaze steady despite the storm still raging within him.
Then, from across the room, Lord Whitfield cleared his throat, drawing attention. “Well,” he said, his voice carrying authority. “I daresay this evening did not unfold as any of us expected.”
A murmur of uneasy agreement spread through the crowd.
“But let us not allow the actions of one man to overshadow the greater purpose of tonight.” He raised his glass, his expression resolute. “The clinic remains a cause worth championing. If anything, this reminds us why we must stand together, to support those who serve our community with honor.”
Lora’s breath caught, her eyes flicking toward Rockford. Slowly, a sense of calm settled over the room, as if the guests had found their footing once more.
Whitfield lifted his glass higher. “In light of these events, I propose we all reaffirm our commitment to the clinic’s expansion. It is a noble endeavor, and I, for one, am increasing my donation.”
A murmur of approval followed, then scattered applause. One by one, others lifted their glasses, their voices rising in agreement.
Rockford glanced at Lora, something unspoken passing between them. This battle was over, but their work was far from finished.
Mrs. Turner appeared at Rockford and Lora’s side. “Dinner is served if you’d please have your guests proceed to the dining hall.”
Rockford smiled warmly. “Thank you, Mrs. Turner.” He turned to his guests. “Ladies and gentlemen, shall we continue our evening? Dinner is served.”
The atmosphere shifted significantly as the guests began to move toward the dining hall. Laughter and light-hearted conversations filled the space, the earlier tension replaced with a sense of ease and friendship. The gala was back on course.
Harriet sidled up to Lora, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, that was quite the turn of events. You do know how to keep things interesting.”
Lora chuckled softly. “I can’t take all the credit.”
“Oh, but you should.” Harriet squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’m so proud of you.”
