Page 12 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Is that why you wished to see me?” he asked lightly, avoiding her gaze. “To discuss my future prospects?”
“The duke has mentioned you have already discussed it vaguely today.”
“You thought that you might wallop me with a mallet to ensure I receive the message?” Nicholas finished for her.
The duchess blinked and gazed at her son in surprise.
“Oh, you think this an attack,” she said slowly. “No, darling, not in the least.”
“What then?”
His voice was harsher than he intended, but it was too late to retract his biting tone.
“I came to tell you that I understand why you have waited to wed and I honor your choice. We have always tried to instill the importance of compatibility in your union.”
“Mother, forgive me if I cannot help but comment on your seeming about face on the matter. The last months you seemed to be increasing pressure upon me.”
The duchess eyed him warily and Nicholas noted a worried glint in her deep green irises.
“What is it, mother?” he asked, his voice softening as he detected a solemnness about her.
“It is foolish,” she sighed. “And yet…”
Nicholas arched his eyebrow expectantly.
“Whatever it is, mother, I will not judge you for it.”
The Duchess of Buford looked at her gloved hands and wrung them in despair.
“I have been plagued with this terrible sense of foreboding,” she confessed. The words sent a jolt of alarm through Nicholas and he spun around to stare at her fully. He tilted his head sideways in question.
“Regarding what?” he asked. “Me?”
She shook her head quickly, avoiding his eyes and he could see that she was attempting to diffuse the ominous nature of her statement. But it was too late. Nicholas knew his mother well enough to realize she was not prone to bouts of superstition. Whatever it was which was troubling her had clearly concerned her enough to voice them aloud. In turn, Nicholas found himself disturbed. This was not a conversation he had ever experienced with the duchess.
“Mother?”
“I cannot say, Nicholas,” she said, almost impatiently and he could tell she wished she had not spoken at all. “It is merely a feeling which has haunted me, as if a shadow has been cast over Rosecliff. Do you not feel it?”
Nicholas could not but he did not want his mother to feel unsettled.
“Mother, whatever it is you are sensing will pass,” he told her with confidence. “I oft get overcome with sadness for no reason whatsoever.”
“It is more than that!” the duchess snapped, and Nicholas clamped his mouth closed.
She is very troubled by whatever it is she is experiencing. I must not discount her emotions.
“You fear something will come of me,” Nicholas stated gently. “It is a mother’s way to worry about her children.”
“Nicholas, you are not a child any longer. You are a grown man who will one day know responsibilities beyond what your father has prepared you. I have urged to you find love, but I fear that you will wait too long and something terrible will occur…”
She trailed off, still staring at her hands.
“Mother, nothing will become of me,” he told her weakly, unsure of what else to say. It seemed like such an empty phrase to placate a worried mother, but Nicholas had little else to offer.
Before she could respond, Peter knocked firmly on the door.
“Your Grace,” he called. “Miss Eloise would like a word. She claims it cannot wait.”
