Page 6 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
Finally, Duncan spun his head back toward her and said, “I suppose today is the first day of my studies, then?”
“I thought that it might be better for us to take a walk around the grounds,” Rose said, grateful that Duncan had given her an “out.” “It’s far too beautiful to remain indoors today, and I think you deserve just one more day off before we dig into the tough arithmetic, don’t you?”
Duncan glanced toward the front windows. The sky glowed bright blue, eggshell blue. “It will be a long winter,” he agreed.
Rose and Duncan walked down the hallway, toward the back exit of the mansion. There, Rose felt the strong gaze of Judith, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen, having apparently returned after their conversation. Rose gave her a soft smile, hoping to translate the fact that she was doing her very best.
Outside, their feet dotted across the stone path. They walked silently. Rose struggled in the back areas of her brain, wishing she could concoct something interesting to say. In her previous positions as governess the children had been constant speakers, always delighting in telling her various fictional tales, or about what they wanted to be when they grew up. They’d taken control. But Duncan seemed far more serious, living in his memories of the West Indies, of a grandfather he’d never really known.
“How do you find the grounds so far?” Rose said. Around them, the plants in each of the gardens remained bright and green, as though they didn’t yet know that autumn was fast approaching.
“They’re quite beautiful,” Duncan affirmed. “When I arrived, I asked that my uncle give me a tour of the grounds, perhaps allow me to ride a horse or even hike through the forest. But it seems that he’s terribly busy.”
“That’s what everyone says. He must be incredibly important.”
“Yes. I hope I never become important,” Duncan said.
“Why’s that?” Rose asked.
“It’s just that you lose all sight of what you used to care about, it seems,” Duncan said. “It seems that you become a very separate person from your true self. What’s the point of living a life like that?”
They wandered out past the last garden. Rose glanced through the iron gate to find a selection of rose bushes—all of them still holding onto their bright red, pink, yellow flowers, which shifted in the light autumn breeze. She imagined an afternoon off in the midst of all that color, daydreaming. Perhaps she would find the space for it before the weather changed.
Duncan pointed toward the stone tower, located about a quarter of a mile away, at the entry to the forest. “My mother told me that tower is quite old. Perhaps two hundred years. Maybe more,” he said. “Nobody really remembers who built it.”
“Perhaps if we find a day to walk through the woods, we can enter the forest another way,” Rose said. “It would be lovely to have a day learning about flowers and herbs and trees, don’t you think?”
“They’re quite different here than they were in the West Indies,” Duncan said. “It’s a funny thing. I feel precisely the same as I did back then, but just with far different surroundings. My father and mother are no longer in my life. And the trees stretch high into the big sky, with leaves that change with every day that goes by. Reds and oranges and yellows…”
Rose made a mental note to have an entire lesson about medicines and herbs in the forest, to allow the boy to pick various plants and keep a notebook filled with them. This had come in handy for Rose in recent years, as she’d turned to ancient medicines and herbs to attend to the children she cared for. The doctor wasn’t always correct in his suggestions.
As they continued to walk there was a pounding, followed by a wild whiny in the distance. Rose yanked around to see a mighty black horse, bounding from out of the forest. Atop the horse was a wild-looking man, with brown hair that whirled back with the wind, honey brown eyes that glowed as he grew closer and closer. His lips were pressed tightly in a thin line. He stared at her severely.
Beside her, Duncan shrunk against her leg. His body was stiff, his face anxious.
“That’s my uncle,” he whispered.
It was obvious that the boy was frightened of his uncle, although Rose hadn’t a clue why. She ducked back, bringing Duncan along with her, as the horse clopped to a slow halt in front of them. The man on horseback remained stern, gazing down at them. His hair flowed aimlessly in the breeze. He bowed his head slowly, as though this was enough of a greeting, and then cast his eyes back toward the mansion.
Duncan hugged closer to Rose’s thigh. Rose waited for the man to say something, anything of greeting. They hadn’t yet met, and the air was taut with tension. Wasn’t it an appropriate thing for the man who’d hired her to say something? A word of greeting?
Again, Colin’s eyes turned back to her and seemed to trace her body. Under his gaze she felt strangely immobilised, as though he could see directly through her and there was nothing she could do about it but remain there and let it happen. She swallowed, and her throat grew tight. This was unlike any other interaction she’d had in her life. And although she was tremendously uncomfortable, she still didn’t wish for the moment to end. It could have gone on and on and on.
Finally, the man named Colin yanked his horse’s reins toward the mansion. The horse followed suit, prancing in the other direction. Rose remained with Duncan, blinking out across the moor as the master returned to the estate. Her heart pounded with confusion. Why had the man nearly completely ignored she and Duncan? Hadn’t he a word of comfort for the small boy, who was clearly lost and feeling anxious and unloved in the wake of his parents bringing him to the estate?
Rose and Duncan proceeded. Rose kept her mouth shut, waiting as they ambled across the moors, their feet padding across the grass.
Finally, Duncan said, “He’s terribly strong and powerful, isn’t he?”
Rose hadn’t expected this from Duncan. She glanced down at him. She had a strange desire to stretch her hand across his forehead and soothe him, tell him that everything would all be all right.
“I imagine that if I’m ever as strong and as powerful as him, I will be quite successful in life,” Duncan continued. “But of course I do wish—in a very childish manner—that he took more time out of his busy life to play with me. I know that’s a thing that will soon pass. That I will one day find no meaning in play, and I will want to be as serious as he is.”
“I hope that doesn’t happen to you very soon,” Rose said. “And to be quite honest, the desire to play has never really left me.”
Duncan glanced up at her, his eyes glittering. He licked his lips and then said, “And I know my mother has her struggles with my uncle, as well. I’ve overheard my parents speaking about it a great deal. But I can’t help but think that there’s much more to my uncle than meets the eye. I imagine that he deserves a chance to open up. To show the sort of man he really is. I dare say my sister hasn’t allowed him that chance, certainly not since we’ve moved back to England.”
Rose was yet again unsure of what to say. She glanced again toward the mansion, but it seemed that the master had returned to the stables on the other side. The wind shifted her hair. Suddenly, Duncan swept forward. She yanked back around to see that he’d discovered a bright yellow butterfly, floating through the air, its wings flapping so tenderly.
