Page 63 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Miss Rose, is it?”
“Yes,” she replied impatiently, not wishing to waste time with formalities.
“We have been unable to locate Duke Buford and our torches have failed. We will continue to search by morning light.”
“Yet you located the others!” she cried. “Why was he not with them?”
“I cannot say. If you will excuse me.”
He did not permit her to respond as he hurried past her and Rose whirled around, expecting to see Nicholas appear in a moment’s time. Yet as she stood, trembling with cold and anticipation and the men retreated into the warmth of the manor, he did not materialize.
“Rose, you must come inside,” Bridget told her, thrusting a warm cover about her shoulders. “You will catch your death.”
“Where is he?” she whispered. “What has happened?”
“They will resume the search on the morrow, child. You will do no good to anyone here. Come inside and help with the men.”
“No!” Rose cried, her heart pounding. “Lord Buford has not returned!”
Bridget’s face registered surprise.
“Hasn’t he?”
She shook her damp tresses, the strands sticking to her prickled skin in clumps.
“He cannot be far, child. The men collectively decided to return.”
“And yet he has not!” she choked, tears springing to her eyes.
“He will,” Bridget told her firmly, gripping her arm and steering her away from the spot in which Rose had rooted herself. “You must keep your wits, now. Think of the children. They have been roused from sleep with the commotion and they could use a kind word.”
The children!Rose thought, her head swimming with despair.What will I say to Betsey and Harry?
They had suffered so much loss already. How was Rose to give them more foul news? She hadn’t a clue what to tell them, especially since she did not know what had occurred.
Her eyes darted upward to the heavens and she silently prayed to God for guidance as Bridget led her inside the bustling anteroom.
Dear God in Heaven,she implored.Please bring Nicholas home safely. The children have endured enough as have I. Do not leave us without again, not when we are all learning how to love once more.
Unbidden, a melancholic thought flooded her mind and caused her to gasp.
My parents, Philip and now Nicholas and Duke Buford. Perhaps it is not Captain Balfour who is cursed. Perhaps it is I who brings death and destruction to all whom I touch.
Chapter 22
Having lived in Buford his whole life, Nicholas was familiar with every tree and shrub along the dales of the dense bush. He knew the paths and pines from Rosecliff to Sommersail. There was nary a molehill which he did not recognize. Yet that eve, nothing tickled his memory as if he had never been through the forest.
The snow had obscured his sense of direction, the wind blowing him about and upsetting Victor tremendously. Nicholas wondered if he had made a mistake in enlisting the beast for the search, but he reasoned that if anyone knew where to find his father, it would be the Irish Draught.
If the weather had not been so precarious, Victor would have likely been up for the challenge but in the blowing storm, he grew more agitated with each step.
The others had returned to the manor, their torches burning out in rapid succession after hours of searching but Nicholas could not give up, not when his father might lay buried somewhere among the ever-growing piles of snow.
“Tell me again where they last saw him,” Nicholas barked when he received word the rest of the party had been found, unharmed. “Where did they leave him?”
“Buford, they went in search of help,” Sommersail insisted, noting the bitterness in the marquess’ voice. “He was trapped beneath a tree!”
“I imagine it takes three men to seek help, does it? One could have stayed with him. God only knows the amount of pain he is in!”
