Page 85 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
His fingertips continued to explore the fine lines of her face. She quivered slightly beneath his touch, but she did not resist as his head lowered, their eyes still fixated on each other. Sighing, she slowly closed her eyes and parted her lips, allowing for their mouths to touch as they had meant to do for months.
She moaned quietly, her hands reaching up to embrace his face and they pressed to one another sweetly, inhaling the warmth of the kiss.
Why have I waited so long to do this?Nicholas asked himself, his hands catching a strand of her honey hair.
It was Rose who broke away first, red staining her fair cheeks as she looked for somewhere to cast her eyes.
“Rose, I can see that you are troubled,” Nicholas implored her, trying to catch her gaze again but she pulled out of his embrace gently. “What do you know?”
“I must return to my chambers, Your Grace,” she breathed, her voice catching as she spoke. She spun to rush away but Nicholas caught her arm as she did, whirling her back toward him.
“Your Grace!”
“Say it one time,” he murmured, tilting her chin toward him. A slow, timid smile formed and she blushed more furiously as she realized what he wanted her to say.
“Please?”
“Good night…Nicholas.”
She fled the study, leaving him to stare after her, the feel of her lips still fresh against his.
Rose remained the glimmer of light at the end of the dark, confusing tunnel which had become his life.
Chapter 29
The days grew warmer and soon, the buds of spring littered the vast array of flora about the estate. Birds made their debuts, tweeting playfully throughout the trees and the elusive woodland creatures which had remained hidden through the unnaturally long winter began to rear their heads.
The sunshine should have brought along with it good tidings but Rose could not escape the umbra which chased her, no matter where she ventured inside Rosecliff.
Captain Balfour and the duchess no longer kept their affair a secret, flagrantly boasting their affections for one another as if they were schoolchildren without control.
“Miss Rose will my aunt marry Captain Balfour?” Harry choked one May afternoon as the sun rose high in the sky, toasting them inside the schoolroom. Rose wondered how long he had been deigning to ask the dreaded question which seemed to be poison upon his lips. It seemed that they did fewer lessons and more speculating in the wake of Harry’s confession months earlier.
For Rose’s part, she listened, hoping to learn what she could about the captain, but Harry was just a boy and could not possibly fathom the gravity of what his knowledge meant to the governess.
Or to Nicholas.
Rose desperately wanted to tell the duke all that she knew but she had been sworn to secrecy by her young charge and she was not certain that Harry’s observations could be trusted.
There were so many questions for which she did not have answers. Suspicions were aplenty but proof was another matter altogether.
I am just a governess. I cannot dare to believe that I can outwit someone as cunning as the captain appears to be. I require collaboration before I approach Nicholas. He has far too much with which to worry himself. I cannot add to his concerns with wild tales from the mouth of a boy and the mind of a grieving widow.
Rose wondered if she truly was a grieving widow any longer, the memory of the duke’s kiss oft dancing on the fringes of her mind throughout the day.
It had been weeks since it had happened and while they continued to smile at one another when they passed in the halls, she had not seen him alone again, despite his desire to be home with more frequency.
Sometimes, she wondered if she had imagined the encounter but there was no denying the look of desire in Nicholas’ eyes whenever their gazes met.
You cannot think about romance with the duke,she chided herself.Something terrible is occurring inside the walls of Rosecliff and you must learn what you can before all goes agog.
Yet the kiss defied all logic and she oft thought of it when her nights remained restless and she could think no more of the bleakness which haunted the halls of Rosecliff.
She had begun an investigation of her own, reaching out to the Boyles for help. She penned letters to the elderly couple, asking them for any information pertaining to Philip’s death but their answers had not been helpful.
Our Dearest Rose,
As we have already told you, we only know what Lieutenant Joel Walters has told us. Philip was killed under unusual circumstances but we know nothing more. May we suggest you write him for more information?
