Page 113 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
Indeed, the damned hums about town were not going to shatter her newfound security, no matter how she was regarded as some carte-blanche by the others in the duchy.
“You are not eating, Miss Rose,” Harry commented and Rose looked up.
“I am lost in thought today,” she replied, reaching for her fork to sample the juice infused pig-chop on her plate. As she took a bite, her eyes met Nicholas who continued to smile at her as he always did.
Could he sense her worries? Sometimes she was certain he could do just that, always inside her as if he had become a part of her in the thick of all they had been through together.
Their bond had only intensified over the past months, Nicholas slowing his intense workload with the help of two very trusted advisors, men who were known to the duchy.
He spent his evenings with his family when he was not traveling and Rose was reminded of a time before the first duke had died, when Nicholas was a marquess and she had been fighting her attraction to him.
There is no fight any more,she realized, unsure of when that had changed. Perhaps when the scare of losing him became tangible, the thought of being without Nicholas before ever truly having him. Or maybe it was the understanding that she had never known the man she had married, that Philip Parsons was someone she had imagined.
Nicholas was real, and he was not going to leave her for years on end, wondering if he was alive. He would not get himself involved with a black spy like Captain Balfour.
Tis blasphemous to speak ill of the dead,she chided herself but she also knew she did not think poorly of her late husband. The love she had felt for Philip had been true and she had nothing but fond memories of the man, despite what she had learned in the aftermath of his death.
Yet Rose could not wonder if it had not been God’s plan for her all along to find the man meant to keep her heart.
“Miss Rose?”
Harry’s worried voice caused her to turn to him, his mouth fixed into a perplexed frown.
“Yes, Lord Arlington?”
“You will not leave us, will you?”
Rose snuck a small look toward Nicholas who seemed to be waiting with baited breath for her answer.
As if there is any doubt that I am here to stay.
“Where could I possibly go?” she asked him, smiling softly.
“Perhaps back to Dartford?” he suggested, and Rose shook her head.
“My home is here in Buford, Harry,” she murmured. “With you and Betsey…”
“And Nicholas,” Betsey piped up, giggling. “You mustn’t forget Nicholas!”
“Betsey, for shame!” Duchess Buford scolded. “Mind your manners, child!”
“No,” Rose replied, offering the table a warm beam, her eyes pausing to linger on each face individually. They had taught her so much since she had come to Rosecliff, almost a year earlier. How things had changed, their chairs, their faces, her heart.
“No,” the governess said again. “I could never forget His Grace any more than I could forget anyone of you.”
A surge of energy seemed to rise from the table, a quiet sense of joy flowing through them as if the spirits of Rosecliff past came to bless them in their togetherness.
“We will never forget you either, Miss Rose,” Betsey assured her.
“You will never have the opportunity,” Nicholas interjected before Rose could reply. “She is precisely where she is meant to be, and she is not going anywhere, are you?”
Their eyes locked meaningfully, and Rose knew the question did not require a response but she shook her head for the sake of the children.
“Of course not,” she replied. “As I said, this is my home.”
The End?
