Page 30 of A Dilemma for the Duke

The warmth in the room dampened, as if a draft had slipped through an open door. Hastings entered, his presence drawing unseen lines between them. His gaze locked briefly with Rockford’s before he inclined his head in greeting.

“Thank you, Lady Lora.”

“You wouldn’t believe what happened at the last charity auction,” Mrs. Bainbridge began with a twinkle in her eye. “Lord Grantham accidentally bid on a painting of a cow, thinking it was a renowned landscape! He was too embarrassed to retract his bid, and now he’s the proud owner of ‘Bessie in the Field.’”

The room erupted in polite laughter, with Harriet adding, “Ah, poor Lord Grantham! I heard he’s planning to donate it to the art auction, where he hopes it will be admired from a distance.”

As the laughter faded, Rockford leaned slightly toward Hastings, his voice measured and polite. “Hastings, I was hoping we could discuss the recent developments at the clinic. I believe there are some matters we need to address.”

Hastings met his gaze with a hint of defiance. “Of course, Rockford. What seems to be the issue?”

Rockford spoke calmly, but his words held a hint of concern. “I’ve received reports of unorthodox methods being used to secure funding. I appreciate the ambition, but we must ensure our actions uphold the clinic’s integrity and reputation. The trust of the community and the long-term success of our efforts depend on it.”

Hastings’ expression hardened, but he maintained his composure. “I assure you, my actions are in the clinic’s best interest. Sometimes, decisive measures are necessary for success.”

“At what cost?” Rockford’s voice was soft but firm. “Integrity is the foundation of our work. Without it, everything we’ve built could fall apart and lose the community’s trust.”

Hastings leaned in slightly, a knowing glint in his eye. “You should know, Rockford, that sometimes a little risk is necessary. After all, we both have left things behind in London that we’d rather forget.”

Rockford met his gaze steadily, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “It’s interesting you have time for tea, Hastings. One would think you’d be more occupied dealing with your… financial troubles.”

Hastings’ expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his features. He recovered quickly, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and Rockford knew he had struck a nerve.

*

Later that evening,across town, Hastings brooded in his modest rooms in the Stonefield Inn. Though better than his London accommodations, they were a far cry from the opulence he craved, it was rather a stark reminder of his current…limitations. He glanced at the faded wallpaper. It bore the marks of time and countless previous occupants. The single window offered a view of the winding road leading into town. Its only saving grace was his glimpse over the rooftops of the sea on the horizon.

The room had a faint scent of beeswax and linseed oil hinting at the innkeeper’s pride in maintaining a clean establishment.Yet, despite the room’s adequacy, it fell short of the luxury he longed for. Hastings yearned for polished mahogany furniture, silk drapes, and a grand view from a manor’s lofty window. He wanted the intricate tapestries that whispered tales of nobility and the warmth of a fireplace glowing with ornate ironwork. His rooms were sufficient for now, but it was a reminder that the lifestyle he craved was beyond his reach.

He insisted on a semblance of order and purpose in the space. Copies of Adam Smith’s, ‘The Wealth of Nations’ and David Ricardo’s, ‘Principles of Political Economy and Taxation,’ were on one corner of the desk. An orderly pile of his correspondence was alongside.

His gaze drifted out the window, where he caught a glimpse of a carriage. As it turned onto the road, he saw an elegant family crest on the door. It set his mind wandering.

The room seemed to fade away as memories of the small room he shared with his family came to mind. “You can rise above this,” his father said as his mother brought dinner to the table. “You’re smart. With determination and hard work, you can achieve anything.”

His mind wandered from the family table to a friendly tavern and the day he found that hard work wasn’t enough to achieve anything, much less success. He saw himself with a pint of ale at a remote tavern. It ached to remember that day. It had been an utter failure. But he would never forget it. His latest job had ended abruptly after he was caught tampering with the company’s petty cash box, skimming off small amounts over time. The employer’s stern words still rang in his ears.

He stared into the golden liquid. He had been on the edge of success, or so he thought. He took a gulp. He was worth more than the pittance he was being paid. Every coin he took had been a small correction, a way of balancing the scales. He workedharder than anyone else, and if the company couldn’t see his value, then he would just have to take it for himself.

“It’s not stealing,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s taking what I’m owed.”

The man next to him chuckled, a knowing look in his eyes. “It sounds like you’ve been through quite a bit. Sometimes, frustrations can lead to unexpected paths.”

Hastings stiffened, caught off guard by the stranger’s words. “What do you mean by that?”

The man shrugged nonchalantly. “Look around you. Do you think everyone here got to where they are by always following the rules? The world isn’t so clear-cut. Those who can see a way to get what they want and understand how to navigate the grey areas are those who really get ahead.”

Hastings hesitated, the man’s words so opposite of his father’s. Yet, a part of him couldn’t deny the truth in what he said. “You think I should just…take liberties?”

“Call it what you will,” the man replied with a smirk. “But sometimes, a little audacity and cleverness can go a long way.”

Hastings looked at him, intrigued. The idea of bending the rules to his advantage rather than being constrained by them appealed to him. Perhaps success, indeed, required a touch of audacity and cunning. Hastings found the idea both enticing and unsettling. “I’m not sure I understand.”

The man chuckled again, clapping Hastings on the shoulder. “There’s a fellow I know, a man of integrity.” The man wrote a name and address on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. “He’s helped many find their path. Show him your potential, and he might offer you the opportunity you need.”

Hastings took the paper, the words swimming before his eyes as the importance of the moment settled on him. This chance meeting in a dimly lit tavern with this stranger felt like a turningpoint. A departure from the path his father had expected him to follow.

“Follow his instructions,” the stranger pointed at the paper. “I wish I had.”

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