Page 19 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Which is precisely why we are able to wed who we choose,” he answered firmly. “The duke will want you to marry the woman of your choice. He does not partake in the concept of arrangement.”
Harry seemed genuinely perplexed as if Nicholas had explained that cats were truly dogs and dogs were sheep. Nicholas wished he had not engaged in such a complex conversation with a boy so young.
“Off you go,” he insisted before Harry could open his mouth to respond. “The duchess will be angered should Mrs. Parsons arrive, and you are nowhere to be seen.”
Harry nodded and turned to leave but Nicholas could read the dejection in his shoulders.
To be young and troubled by such nonsense,Nicholas mused.
He thought of his own governess, a stern, embittered spinster named Frieda Johnston who taught less than she chided and despised the outdoors.
At least I was spared the strap,he reminded himself but that was not difficult to understand.
For Nicholas had always been an obedient, wit-filled child. He did not need strict discipline nor excessive guidance. Inherently he had respected his elders and adhered to the proper way without punishment or threat, attributes which had served him well into manhood. Of course, he hadn’t any siblings to corrupt him.
Perhaps I am feeling sympathy for the wrong person,he chuckled to himself.Between Harry and his sister, Mrs. Parsons will have her hands as full as a court jester’s.
Yet Nicholas knew that no matter how awful a governess Mrs. Parsons might prove to be, the children would adapt to her rules as good lords and ladies did.
The sun rose outside the long windows and Nicholas saw that he had wasted much time indulging his cousin. He needed to dress and meet his father as they were meant to travel to Cambridge for business together that morning.
Hastily, he adorned the britches and buckskin trousers left by Theodore, the material fitting snugly against his hips. As he adjusted the black buttons beneath his navel, a cold chill slid over his neck and Nicholas tensed instinctively. The odd sensations of apprehension seemed to be overcoming him at random for months and he could not identify what it was which was troubling him.
Since the night of the spring gala, when his mother had admitted to feeling uneasy, it seemed that Nicholas had assumed her concerns, although Duchess Buford had never again raised the issue. There had been times when Nicholas had longed to speak to her about what she had felt but he quickly dismissed the notion. Seeing his mother as distraught as she had been that evening was something he never wanted to see again.
It is as I told her; whatever it is shall pass. I am merely permitting my mind to play with me. If I continue on this path, I will end up with melancholy. It will not fare well for my parents if I should be committed.
He tried to smile but he was feeling rather humorless. He peered around the apartment, as if looking for something amiss but of course there was nothing he could easily identify.
It is merely a draft from the outdoors.
Commonly he used the same excuse. It was a much more comforting thought than the spirits of the old sweeping through Rosecliff, attempting to forewarn of impending dangers.
You have perused far too much Shakespeare in your days,Nicholas chided himself, fastening his shirt as Theodore appeared for a third time.
“Shall I assist, my lord?”
Nicholas shook his curls.
“No, Theodore, thank you,” he sighed. “I am about done now.”
It was unusual for the butler to ask, knowing that the answer from Nicholas’ lips never varied. He did not much care for being fussed over. That was more the Duke of Buford’s fancy and Nicholas knew that Theodore could not maintain two positions in the same moment.
“His Grace awaits you in the informal dining room.”
Nicholas abruptly understood.
That is why he has come to offer his assistance.
The words were meant to encourage speed and they did precisely that. Nicholas quickly fastened the final button, smoothing his starched shirt, reaching for his cravat and slipping into the dark blue waistcoat which Theodore held out for him.
He needn’t say a word. I can feel the tension oozing from his body as he waits for me to rush along.
He spun to follow the butler from the bedchambers, contrite at having kept his father waiting for even a short amount of time. There were interviews to attend the following day and it was a ten-hour journey into Cambridge yet. Nicholas was sure his father was impatient to leave at once.
As the door to his quarters closed silently behind him, Nicholas had all but forgotten the nervousness which had seized him just moments earlier. He had much bigger issues to address than an uncouth feeling.
As he stole through the halls, the morning sunshine filtering through the frosted panes of the upper floor windows, he saw Harry fall back into the shadows as if hiding from the world, awaiting his fate. Their eyes met briefly as Nicholas passed, a confident clash of emerald green orbs to a set of meek blue irises.
