Page 67 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Harry, please cast your eyes this way,” Rose said with exasperation. “What has your attention this afternoon?”
“Miss Rose, may I be excused?” the boy asked, and she was filled with a familiar sense of concern.
“Harry, you cannot cut our lessons short with such frequency. I understand that you are coping with…” she faltered, unsure of how to word what she wished to say. “Harry, we must continue to live our lives as conventionally as possible. The late duke would not want you wallowing in his absence.”
Rose regretted that her words seemed harsh, but she could think of no other way to reach the child. The past months had been dreadful for all involved, but none seemed harder affected than young Lord Arlington. He had retreated into a shell of his former self, drifting through the days as if he was a specter.
Sometimes, Rose felt as if half the household had perished that dreadful snowy night. Harry had flittered away somewhere she could not find him, Betsey seemed sassier with each day and Nicholas was consumed with his father’s duties. She rarely saw him, his business taking him into the towns and Cambridge with such frequency, she wondered if he considered Rosecliff his official residence.
When they did manage to see one another, there was barely a chance for a smile or a mere moment to chat before Nicholas was whisked away to another interview.
The Boyles had returned to Dartford in the weeks following Duke Grayson Buford’s wake with promises to return but Rose knew that they had already taken much time from their land. They would not return for a long while, she was certain.
That left Rose with the matter of Duchess Buford and Captain Balfour.
“Please, Miss Rose, I am feeling unwell,” Harry pleaded, and she sighed heavily.
“Shall I send for the physician, Harry?”
“No!” he declared, his face waning at the idea. “I – I only need rest.”
“Lord Arlington.” Rose’s voice was sharp, and Harry knew that being referred to by his title could not be a fair sign of what was to come next.
“You cannot hide in your chambers until you reach maturity,” she told him sternly. “I have exhausted every manner I know to speak with you and yet you refuse. What shall I do when you will not focus nor explain why you are drifting away?”
“What will you do?” he gasped. “Do not tell Her Grace!”
Rose’s brow furrowed slightly, and she studied his face with concern.
“What have you to fear of Duchess Buford, Harry? She is your aunt after all. She cares about your well-being as do I. What has you troubled?”
Harry dropped his eyes and squirmed in his chair uncomfortably.
“I have nothing to say,” he mumbled.
“I am afraid that is not good enough!” she snapped. “Harry, I am at the end of my wits with you. I have tried to be patient and kind, but you are overextending my good humor.”
Sullenly, Harry looked down and Rose could see she would get nothing further from the young lord.
“Shall we continue with our maths?” she said crisply, turning back to the board.
“Why has he not gone?” Harry blurted out and Rose turned back to face him, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Who?” she asked, genuine confusion in her voice. Harry scoffed slightly and folded his arms under his chest in defiance.
“Captain Balfour. Why does he remain here?”
Rose blinked at the stunningly profound observation by the youngest member of the household. While it was certainly a question she had asked herself many times over the past weeks, she had not expected that Harry would be sensitive to his presence.
“He has been quite an assistance to Duke Buford during this time,” Rose answered slowly. “He has stayed at the duchess’ insistence.”
“He is a naval captain!” Harry protested. “What does he know of parliament matters? He only knows about the navy and–”
He cut himself off, presumably to think of another subject the captain might be versed in but he did not finish his thought.
Rose swallowed a sardonic smile. It was a valid inquiry, one for which she did not have the answer. It seemed that Captain Balfour had made himself rather comfortable inside Rosecliff after the death of the senior duke. While it was not her place to ask about his overstay, she could not resist wondering what he could offer Nicholas. After all, the man was not even from Buford. He hadn’t any way of knowing the workings of the area, not in any meaningful sense and yet the duchess seemed to appreciate his company.
It was one of the many things which Rose wished to discuss with Nicholas, should she ever get a moment alone with him but the opportunities that had easily presented themselves before were fleeting and elusive.
