Page 19 of A Dilemma for the Duke

“You think he has ulterior motives?” Lora asked, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

Harriet hesitated. “Not necessarily, but with your inheritance and standing, some men may see more than just your admirable qualities.”

Lora traced the rim of her teacup, her gaze distant. “I know. That’s why I want someone who respects my independence and supports my work.”

“Someone like Rockford?” Harriet suggested softly.

Lora gave a bitter laugh. “Rockford challenges me, yes, but he keeps so much to himself. He left the gala without a word. It’s as if he’s hiding something.”

“Have you considered speaking with him about it?”

“Every time I try, there’s a wall between us,” Lora said, frustration creeping into her voice. “Hastings, though… he makes me feel appreciated. Listened to.”

Harriet reached across the table, her hand covering Lora’s. “Just promise me you’ll be cautious. Sometimes, people say what they believe you wish to hear.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Lora murmured. “I shouldn’t be too quick to trust.”

“Exactly. And if you have doubts, take time to consider them carefully. Don’t let anyone rush you.”

“Thank you, Harriet.” Lora managed a smile. “Your counsel means so much to me.”

“Now,” Harriet said warmly, “shall we walk in the gardens in town? I haven’t been there in a while.”

“I’d like that,” Lora agreed. “It would be nice to clear my head.” She put down her teacup. “I understand there are rare camellias in the botanical garden.”

“Then it’s settled,” Harriet said, her eyes brightening. “We’ll make a day of it. We may even stop at Madame Pembroke’s shop. I understand she has some new gowns.”

Chapter Seven

21 September 1822

Afternoon

Rockford walked downthe steps of the Sommer River Club. Last evening’s overindulgence lingered as a ghost of memory, but the tension between his satisfaction and unease gnawed at him. Barrington had offered him a chance to step away from this project, yet an unseen force compelled him forward. Help Lady Lora? To what? To loathe him? To witness her torment? To be the architect of her suffering? He paused for less than a heartbeat before moving on. No, none of that was true. He would find a way to support her through the aftermath. To prove he truly cared. To protect her.

Enough. He breathed in the crisp afternoon air, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere he had just left behind. His mind turned to the importance of the information he and Barrington had discussed. The scandals surrounding GeorgeIV had seemingly ceased when he was coronated. Yet, he couldn’t fathom what these documents might contain that could surpass the infamy of forbidding his wife from the coronation or his long-standing affair and illegitimate children. The weapons were something else.

Rockford sought a momentary escape as he stepped into the bustling Westmore Commons, letting the atmosphere distract him from his inner turmoil. Market day was bustling withvibrant stalls displaying a riot of colors and the lively chatter of vendors and customers filling the air. Aromas of freshly baked bread and sizzling street food wafted through the crowd, offering a welcome reprieve from his thoughts. For now, he wanted to lose himself in the vibrant atmosphere, to let the energy and life around him lighten the burden of his mission, if only for a few moments.

“Your Grace.” The woman dipped a slight curtsy with a smile as she passed by.

“My Lady.” Rockford touched the brim of his hat in salute, returning her smile before continuing on his way.

He had always found these excursions in Sommer-by-the-Sea pleasant and invigorating, a welcome contrast to the commotion of London streets. Now, in the early autumn, the town and its surroundings enjoyed the wind off the North Sea. Perhaps later, he’d walk along the cliffs. If he concentrated, he could almost hear the thunder of the waves and see the rushing surf. Yet, the warmth of the afternoon sun did little to chase away the persistent chill of uncertainty that had settled in his chest. The mission’s shadow loomed no matter how he tried to push it away.

As he walked, he tipped his hat to a few familiar faces, exchanging polite greetings. He stopped at a haberdashery stall drawn by a display of finely crafted hats. One in particular caught his eye, a stylish hat with a unique feather tucked into the hat band.

He picked it up and tried it on, turning toward the shop window to inspect the fit. As he adjusted the brim, his gaze flicked to the reflection in the glass. A gentleman stood a short distance behind him, his attention seemingly on the same display.

The man gave a brief, appreciative nod, perhaps in approval of the hat, before shifting his gaze and continuing down thestreet. Rockford set the hat back in its place. He strolled on, passing the bookstall, when a familiar figure among the crowd caught his attention.

His heart gave a small, unexpected jolt.

“Lady Lora,” he greeted, inclining his head. “A pleasant surprise to see you.”

*

They began towalk on together, weaving through the bustling stalls. Lora glanced at the various vendors, then back at Rockford. “It’s such an active place. I imagine it must be quite different from your usual surroundings.”

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