Page 111 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Mr. Peter Alderson, Lord Joseph Preston, step forward,” Nicholas growled, his eyes scanning the crowd for the men he commanded.
Again, the mob shifted as the secretary and baron stepped forth to pledge whatever knowledge they had of that dreadful eve.
“Speak, Lord Preston,” Nicholas ordered. “Tell us what you have to say of that excursion.”
The mild-mannered lord peered down but Nicholas’ firm stare did not falter and he was forced to say what needed to be said.
“I only said, Your Grace, that Mr. Alderson and I lost track of Captain Balfour in the storm. I did not imply – “
“You need not imply anything,” Nicholas assured him. “His record has spoken for itself.”
“Murderer!” someone cried and all around her, Rose saw as fingers began to wag in Balfour’s direction. “Killer!”
A low wail filled the air and Rose watched as Duchess Buford sank to her knees, the horrific reality of what she had almost done shocking her. Rose rushed to her side as her peers backed away, wrapping an arm about her comfortingly.
“You will be detained, tried and hanged for this, Balfour,” Nicholas growled, snatching the captain by the scruff of his shirt as the house guards moved inward to whisk him away.
As if time had slowed, Balfour twirled out of their grasp, reaching into his sheath to unfetter his sword.
“Nicholas!” the duchess and Rose screamed in unison but as the single word flew from their mouths, the duke had already sidestepped the vengeful captain, disarming him in a swift movement.
Rose exhaled, her hand covering her mouth as she stifled a sob.
“Put him in the barracks, locked in a stockade,” Nicholas instructed as Balfour released a mad howl.
“You have not seen the last of me, Buford!” he cried but his voice carried away as he was dragged from the hall, leaving the household to stand in galvanized silence.
As if someone had restarted the tick of the clock, all sprung into action. Betsey and Harry rushed toward their aunt and the governess, flinging themselves into the arms of the older women, tears streaking their cheeks.
Rose barely managed to untangle herself from the pile of arms and legs as Nicholas reached for her, pulling her into his arms.
“What happened?” she whispered, studying his face with concern. “What did he do to you?”
A streak of dried blood covered the left side of his handsome face and Rose longed to touch him but she was painfully aware of all eyes which rested upon them.
“He caught me unaware when I was returning from speaking with Peter Alderson,” Nicholas explained, his own face searching hers as if assuring himself that she was unharmed. “If Betsey and Harry had not found me when they did…”
Rose cast the cousins a glance over her shoulder. They continued to console Duchess Buford, moving her toward the staircase toward her chambers.
“You must remind me to thank them,” Rose murmured as she watched them disappear. She would never have believed she would be grateful that the children had blatantly disobeyed her instructions.
“I believe that mere words are much more in order for those two,” Nicholas replied, reaching forward to caress her face.
“Your Grace…” Rose murmured. “After all you have learned about my late husband and how much darkness I have caused, how can you look at me with such kind eyes?”
His fingers slid into her honey-spun hair and Rose felt her heart quicken.
“You have brought nothing but brightness and joy to this household, even in the bleakest moments, my sweet Rose,” he told her huskily and Rose blushed furiously, knowing that they would be the talk of every noble conversation. “Do not look away.”
“They stare at us, Your Grace,” she breathed. “It is inappropriate – “
“Imagine how they will look at us when I begin properly courting you,” he replied, a small smile on his full lips.
“Your Grace!”
“Is that any way to address a man who vies to steal your heart?” he asked teasingly and Rose met his gaze, her face aflame. She was powerless to look away.
“You needn’t vie, Your Grace,” she replied quietly. “Tis yours for as long as you shall want it.”
