Page 18 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
“My goodness! What was that?” Rose demanded, faking an incredulous air. “Could that have been you, Duncan? But I thought I lost you hours ago. I have already begun my life without you…”
“You simply cannot live your life without me,” Duncan returned. “You’re my governess. You must stop at nothing to find me again. It’s part of your job description.”
“Yes, surely it is. However, I’m afraid that I was never trained in the dramatic art of searching for lost people. Perhaps that should have been a part of my governess training, before I even began. I have to admit that I have never encountered such a problem prior to this moment just now—and I dare say it’s quite a quandary.”
“Perhaps you could follow the sound of my voice, Rose!” Duncan called again. “That’s certainly what an explorer would do.”
“The sound of your voice? Perhaps you could speak a bit louder,” Rose said, although she could tell that Duncan was already yelling at the top of his lungs. “I imagine that I would never make a swell explorer, anyway. That’s why I went into the world of governesses and children.”
“Well, I’m going to be a great explorer,” Duncan affirmed. “And any time I hear something, I will know how to track it down.”
“Yes? Well, then, I wish it was you looking for you, rather than me looking for you. I imagine that this would all be cleared up much faster,” Rose said.
By now, Rose was mere feet away from Duncan’s hiding place. She peered down at his little shoes, which stuck out from beneath the curtains, and she giggled to herself, absolutely enthralled with this feeling of play. Suddenly, she sprung forward, grabbed the curtain, and yanked it off of Duncan, who let out a wild screech and flung forward to wrap his arms around her. He shivered with laughter and screamed, “I never thought you’d find me!”
“I know! I know. But I took your advice, Duncan, and it really truly helped. Perhaps in return for all the lessons I’ll be giving you, you can give me some lessons about exploring and hunting and finding things. What do you say?”
Duncan nodded quickly, thrusting his chin against her stomach. Then, Rose led him toward a little table beneath one of the stained glass windows, where she’d set out the books for the day. Duncan let out a little groan when he saw the books.
“It’s like you forgot why we came up here in the first place,” Rose teased. “I don’t suppose you think we can spend all day playing hide and go seek, do you?”
Duncan shrugged as he sat. “I think we really could. Perhaps I could convince you of it…”
“Now, now, Duncan,” Rose said. “You’ve already done quite a bit of convincing today, if I do say so myself. Now is the time to learn.” She stretched open an English textbook, which dug into the nitty gritty of language and grammar, and watched as Duncan’s cheeks grew slack.
“Come now.” Rose reached for a quill and a pot of ink and a piece of paper and spread everything out in front of him. “Why don’t you write me ten good sentences about anything at all? They simply need to be grammatically correct. What do you say?”
“Any sentences? About anything I like?” Duncan asked.
“Sure. I want you to grow more comfortable telling stories,” Rose affirmed. “And then, we can take another minor—very, very short break—and play hide and go seek one more time. Then, we have to do some mathematics.”
Rose understood that she was closing in on a very dark path, one that involved a lot of play and not a lot of education. But she also reasoned that the boy was lonely, that she hated sitting just about as much as he did—and that Colin wasn’t paying much attention to all that Duncan learned, anyway. She could gradually include more education responsibility into his curriculum, as the days went along. But it was far more important, just now, to gain his trust.
Duncan rolled his eyes a bit as he dotted his quill into his pot of ink and began to stretch out his first letters.
“My mother’s name is Amelia, and my father’s name is Laurence,” were the first words that he wrote out.
“Oh goodness, that’s wonderful to know,” Rose said. She even felt, oddly, like she meant it, although she didn’t suppose that she would ever meet them. “I suppose you miss them a great deal, since you moved here…”
Duncan nodded, and his cheeks grew hollow. His face looked suddenly somber, like he was half-child, half-ghost. “Yes. I do wish that father would visit me here, although, as I’ve mentioned before, he and Uncle Colin do not like one another very much.”
“That’s terrible. Adults sometimes have a way of messing everything up,” Rose whispered.
Now, Duncan continued to write. He seemed to write with a manic air, now, like he was telling himself—just a few more lines, and then you can play once more.
“I grew up in the West Indies, but I, myself, am English,” the boy continued to write. “I love to sing songs and play, and I absolutely love to ride horses, although mother doesn’t allow it very often.”
Here, he blinked up at Rose and said, “Apparently when she was a girl, she lost one of her best friends to a horse accident. She’s never been able to forget it. She even cried about it in front of me once.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rose whispered. She swallowed hard. “That said, perhaps you should be taught proper technique on horseback. That way you can take pleasure in riding, while knowing how to keep yourself safe. What do you think?”
“I’d like that very much,” Duncan affirmed.
Duncan continued to write. Rose drifted off for a second, gazing up into the stained glass window. And when she dropped her eyes back toward Duncan’s paper, she was surprised to see that he’d written out another few lines and even drawn a picture to go with them. In the picture was a little boy who was very clearly meant to be Duncan; he stood beside his bed and a collection of toys. And across the room was a little girl, a girl wearing a little nightdress and lifting her hand, waving.
Rose felt like her throat was going to close.
“Duncan,” Rose said. Her words interrupted his thoughts and his head sprung up. His eyes looked panicked, like he hadn’t expected to be called out like this.
