Page 6 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
Mother is determined to have her grandchildren,he thought, shaking his dark curls ruefully but he knew his father was just as eager to see him wed as Duchess Buford.
To Duke and Duchess Buford, it mattered little that his blood was royal nor that he was the heir to Rosecliff Manor. His parents were no different than any others; they longed for their son to marry and begin a family.
And yet they are so much different. Who else can boast such an apollonian life, particularly when they claim noble heritage? It is not heard of.
The duke and duchess were wise enough to keep their liberal beliefs within the walls of Rosecliff Manor, knowing that some of their views would not be well-received by some of their more traditional-minded peers.
I imagine now, however, that others have begun to talk, wondering why the Marquess of Buford has not taken a wife.
The answer was simple enough for Nicholas; he had not found love. There had been several whirlwind courtships with ladies of standing and one affair with a schoolmarm in Ipswich.
Each relationship had begun warmly, filled with hope and promise but none had made it through the initial phases of romance faltering anticlimactically into nothingness. He had ended each tryst with disappointment but none more so than his former lover.
After all, he was the Marquess of Buford, Nicholas Frampton. Who would not wish to wed him and secure her future and the future of her family?
He considered that he was disillusioned, concerned that the women he courted thought of him as security and little else. Nicholas found himself wondering if perhaps he had expected too much.
For generations, parents had been making matches for the children and for hundreds of years the world had continued.
Is the idea of love a silly, childish notion, aroused only by fairy stories, or is there a woman I have yet to find out there, somewhere, fated to be with me?
Nicholas slapped the reins against the Arabian’s sleek back and he neighed softly, kicking his hooves into the dirt to increase speed. The duke was almost out of sight and Nicholas rushed to keep pace.
Whatever his future held, Nicholas knew he would embrace it with his usual aplomb and dignity. He was a Frampton, after all.
I will always do my father proud.
Chapter 3
The veil blocked her ability to see the world around her with clarity but as Rose tried to move it from her face, she could not.
“Are you well, child?” Bridget whispered from her side as she watched Rose fumble to remove the covering from her face. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
Am I well?
The inquiry was almost farcical but Rose could only stare straight ahead through the shroud of blackness. There was nothing amusing about anything which had happened, not in the least.
“Why can I not move the veil from my face?” she murmured.
A gentle squeeze on her arm caused her to look at her neighbor.
“Rose, you are not wearing the veil any longer. You discarded it when we returned from the church.”
Her blue eyes caught Bridget’s brown ones uncomprehendingly.
“How can that be when I cannot see?” she demanded.
“Come along, my dear,” the motherly woman urged, pulling Rose to her feet. “You must eat something and rest before you faint. Dr. Bernard fears he is running low on smelling salts at the rate you continue to drop.”
Rose tried to protest, to explain that she needed to sit and address the mourners who had come to pay their respects. Sailors, neighbors and friends milled about, speaking in hushed tones as they celebrated the life of the man with whom she had spent so little time.
They knew him better than I,she realized, her heart growing impossibly heavier.
She stared from person to person, waiting for someone to flash her a disarming smile and proclaim the wake a hoax.
Any moment, Philip will walk through the door, tittering that I believed such an awful truth. He will embrace me, even before all these people and tell me that he would never leave me, not when our lives have not yet begun.
She felt bile bubble in her stomach as she realized that none of that was to occur. Her eyes rested on the face of the man who had borne her such tragic news. Captain Daniel Balfour met her gaze, his piercing grey eyes boring into hers with too much intensity.
