Page 4 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
It was hardly a secret that the Duke of Buford was immeasurably proud of his strapping offspring. He had good reason.
The Marquess of Buford, Nicholas Frampton was an unusually handsome man of thirty with a shock of thick, ebony hair, stylishly amassed about his proportioned head.
The luxuriant curls spilled against an even set of cheekbones, creating a startling contrast to a set of brilliant emerald eyes. He was taller than any of his peers with a solid, barrel chest and well-formed arms yet there was little which others found intimidating about him. Perhaps it was his brilliant white smile which he flashed frequently and disarmingly or possibly the easy way in which he spoke to everyone. There were no servants or princes in Nicholas’ mind; only friends. Unfortunately, not everyone felt the same and Nicholas learned from a young age about biases and bigotries.
Behind his intense gaze was the noble and highly adept mind of a man who knew too much but did not oft speak his mind. Nicholas had determined early that it was easier to listen than offer his opinion for he learned more in that fashion.
Aside from the marquess’ dashing good looks and fine mind, the Duke of Buford’s son was a decent soul. He found himself cringing even at the sight of the mangled birds the proud dogs dropped before him.
He had been hunting with his father since he was barely old enough to scamper about, but Nicholas did not feel excitement in killing the beasts. At least, he reasoned, they used all the parts of the animals, just as the great hunters had hundreds of years before them.
Meat for eating, feathers, fur and skin for clothing, bones for tools and décor. Nothing goes to waste. Still, tis painful to take another life, no matter how insignificant.
“We shall bring Harry along for the next hunt,” the duke announced, and Nicholas nodded in agreement despite his concerns. There was no need for his father to know Nicholas had purposely avoided bringing the gentle-hearted child along for months. In his mind’s eye, he could see Harry sobbing over the marred form of a red squirrel, who tumbled from the high roof of the estate.
“Fix him, Nicholas!” the boy pleaded desperately. “Do not permit him to die!”
The Marquess of Buford had spent half an afternoon attempting to revive a furry rodent who had died the moment it hit the brake.
He is much too sensitive to endure a hunt at his age,Nicholas reasoned but he knew eventually he would need to stop making excuses for his cousin. It was a male rite of passage, after all, one which could be avoided only for so long. He could not shelter Harry forever just as he had not been sheltered.
I am not his governess.
The duke meant no harm in inviting his cousin along. On the contrary; his father wished only to bond with his young ward as he had with Nicholas.
However, I imagine Betsey would be better suited for such an excursion.
Nicholas forced back a smile as the servants stepped forward to collect their guns and captures. The men mounted their horses, preparing to head for the estate.
“What has you diverted?” Duke of Buford asked, noting his son’s expression.
“I was simply envisioning little Betsey joining us,” he confessed, somewhat embarrassed at the idea as the words left his mouth. It was an inappropriate thought, one he would not have shared with anyone but his father. As he suspected, the duke found the notion equally entertaining.
“I have seen her running amok with the servant children as if she is some feral cat. Eloise has not a notion how to handle her.”
The words were laced with mild admiration although both men knew a girl of ten and two should not behave in such a manner. She was nearing womanhood after all. Whatever wild streak she maintained would need to be broken.
Albeit that may be easier said than accomplished,Nicholas thought wryly.
“I highly doubt anyone will be adept in handling Betsey. Good heavens, she is like an untamed wind.”
“She is not a bit like her brother,” the duke added, and Nicholas bobbed his head in concession. Indeed, there seemed to be little resemblance between the Arlington siblings except they shared the same parents. Orhadshared the same parents.
Lord and Lady Arlington had perished in a freakish carriage accident only three years prior, leaving Harry and Betsey without guardians. Duke and Duchess Buford had immediately opened their lavish home to the displaced orphans, accepting them with the same grace and affection for which they were so well-admired.
Nicholas knew that his parents were refreshed by the sound of small footfalls in the vast halls, a sound they had undoubtedly yearned to hear for years. His mother was devastated by the news that terrible complications surrounding her pregnancy and delivery had left her barren, and crushed the duke’s dream of having a large family.
The news may have ruined another marriage and if Duke Buford had been a different man, he may have turned to other women in his disappointment, but Duchess Buford told Nicholas it had only increased his loyalty to her.
“You will never know who cares for you until you are caught in the middle of chaos, Nicholas. Your father and I may not have chosen one another, but love has kept us together.”
Nicholas had much to be grateful for. Knowing how it would upset his mother, he kept quiet his longing for a sibling. He had long since accepted that he would be a sole child, and given the fortune he had been born into, Nicholas was more than content with his life. There was no need to consider life with a brother. It was simply not in the grand design.
Until the Arlingtons were bestowed upon us. God does work in mysterious ways.
No matter how unruly Lady Betsey might act nor how timid Lord Harry behaved, they were adored additions to Rosecliff Manor and Nicholas was pleased to have them near.
The men started off, leaving the house staff behind. Nicholas adjusted his hunting cap to block the sunlight from his eyes, and the horses retreated into the thick and onto the path leading back to the estate.
