Page 52 of A Dilemma for the Duke

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

A familiar voice cut through his brooding, grounding him in the present. Rockford blinked, realizing Axbridge stood before him, patient as ever.

“Good morning, Axbridge,” Rockford replied, offering a curt nod. “Lady Lora is expecting me?”

“Yes, sir. She’s in the sitting room.”

“Thank you.”

As he followed Axbridge through the stately foyer, the burden of his deception sat like a stone on his heart. His feelings had deepened, the lines between duty and desire blurred, and for once, he found himself struggling with a task. Each moment spent with her made it more difficult to maintain the charade.

Rockford clenched his fists at his sides, the tension obvious in the rigid set of his shoulders. His gaze lingered on the grand portraits lining the walls, but his mind was consumed by thoughts of Lora, her laughter, and her eyes sparkling with determination. He could not reconcile the happiness she brought him with the deceit he was entangled in. Each smile she gave him was a dagger to his heart, reminding him of the lie he lived.

Axbridge’s footsteps echoed through the corridor, but Rockford, lost in his turmoil, barely heard them. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, the strands slipping through his fingers as if seeking solace in what he had to do.

The realization hit him hard. Soon, he would have to confront the truth with Lora and himself. The battle between hisduty and his love for her tore him apart, and he feared which side would ultimately prevail.

Entering the sitting room, his gaze found Lora immediately. She was on the sofa near the window, bathed in sunlight that highlighted the subtle auburn strands in her hair. When she looked up, their eyes met, and a familiar warmth stirred in his heart.

“Good morning,” he greeted softly. “I wanted to discuss where we are with the gala plans if you’re up to it.”

Her eyes searched his, perhaps seeking reassurance, or was he imagining that? She gestured to the seat beside her. “Yes, the gala… it’s important we keep moving forward.”

He took his place on the sofa, conscious of the respectful distance yet acutely aware of their unspoken connection. She spoke with quiet determination, but her fingers curled around the cushion’s edge, gripping it like an anchor. A flicker of exhaustion crossed her face before she smoothed it away. She wore a brave face, and guilt tightened like a vice around his heart.

“Is there anything specific you’d like us to focus on?” he asked gently, hoping to ease into their usual rhythm.

She drew a steadying breath. “I’ve added the last of guest responses to the list. Let’s finalize the list and ensure we have everything in hand.”

“Of course.” He offered a small smile, producing his notes. “I brought our notes from our last meeting. We can review them together.”

As they delved into the details, he couldn’t help but become acutely aware of her every movement. The way a stray lock of hair brushed against her cheek and the earnestness in her voice as she spoke about the clinic drew him in.

“You have an incredible vision for this event,” he remarked, genuinely impressed by her passion. “Your ideas truly capture the essence of the clinic’s mission.”

A faint blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you. I believe creating a serene atmosphere will encourage support for our work. The clinic means so much to the community—it deserves nothing less.”

He hesitated before adding, “Including certain military and government officials could bolster our efforts. Their support might prove invaluable.”

She met his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. “Yes, that’s wise. But we mustn’t forget our local benefactors, the townspeople who’ve supported the clinic from the very beginning. It’s important we honor those who’ve been with us all along.”

“You’re absolutely right.” He made a note beside several names. “Their loyalty has been invaluable.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled only by the soft scratching of pen on paper. Yet, beneath the surface, his thoughts warred. He’d deceived her, led her to believe his courtship was genuine when, in truth, it had begun as a mere strategy. Now, faced with the reality of his growing feelings, he grappled with a profound sense of shame.

“Lora,” he began carefully, setting his pen aside. “I can’t help but feel responsible for yesterday. If I hadn’t involved you in this scheme, perhaps none of it would have happened.”

She shook her head gently, a small, reassuring gesture. “Don’t blame yourself. I acted on my own because I believed it was necessary. I couldn’t risk the highwayman slipping away due to an oversight.”

“Still,” he pressed, “the thought of what could have happened if I hadn’t arrived in time…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

She reached out then, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. The contact sent a subtle warmth through him. “But you did come,” she said softly. “And that’s what matters. I knew you would.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to simply absorb the sincerity in her gaze, the delicate touch of her hand. He wanted to promise he’d always be there and move heaven and earth to keep her safe. But the words felt too large, too laden with meaning.

She withdrew her hand and glanced down as if collecting her thoughts. “I mentioned to you before that fragments of time I was in the lodge resurface in my mind…”

He leaned in slightly, his attention fully hers. “Anything you recall could be helpful. Even the smallest detail.”

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