Page 31 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
On his mother’s left sat Betsey, her back straight, eyes focussed on the apse as if she expected Christ himself to materialize. To Duke Buford’s right, sat Peter although he did move when Nicholas appeared at the end of the pew.
“My lord,” Peter announced. “You have made it quite in the nick of time. Please, have my seat.”
Nicholas raised his hand to keep the secretary in place.
“Where is –” he stopped himself from asking about Miss Rose.
Tis bad enough that you think of her so informally. You must not show undue interest toward her. Mother and father would never permit it…would they?
They had little to say about the schoolmarm from Ipswich. Was the governess much different in their minds? Possibly as it may affect Harry and Betsey.
This truly is a matter for another time, Nicholas. You are being scrutinized by the lot.
“Where is Lord Arlington?” he corrected himself before it was too late.
“Ah,” Duke Buford sighed. “I fear the boy has come down with a rather high fever. We thought it best he stays home to rest today.”
“He is with Miss Rose, then?”
“Of course,” the duchess snapped. “We would not leave a sickly child on his own. Sit, Lord Buford. Father Benchman is waiting to speak.”
Nicholas glanced up to see that his mother was correct. The priest was patiently standing by for Nicholas to assume his seat, and Peter moved again to allow the marquess to sit.
Reluctantly, he sank into the pew, a deep disappointment overwhelming him as Father Benchman commenced his sermon with a prayer. Nicholas hung his head with the others, willing himself not to sigh aloud. He had been looking forward to spending a full day with the children and Rose, taking special care with his appearance and planning a wonderful lunch picnic in the conservatory. Yet it was all for naught if Harry had taken ill.
Not only will I not see her here, our tobogganing excursion will be postponed also. Betsey and Harry will be deeply upset.
His father nudged him and cast him a sly look, causing him to glance sideways. Father Benchman continued to intone at the pulpit.
“You seem glum,” the duke murmured, his head still bowed. “Has it anything to with the fact that Miss Rose has not joined us?”
Nicholas felt his cheek flushed but he shook his head.
“Of course not!” he replied more loudly than he intended. “Why would I mind? Naturally I am concerned for Harry’s well-being. He is sick much more than I would prefer!”
The words escaped his lips in a torrent as if they could not be stopped once they started. He felt the reproving stares of everyone in his midst and if possible, his face turned a deeper shade of crimson. His father knew him so well and despite his best efforts to keep his growing affections toward the governess clandestine, the duke had seen through him as if he was a glass of Adam’s Ale.
“I daresay, caring for a sick child is exhausting,” the duke whispered in a tone so low, Nicholas needed to strain to hear him.
“I would imagine so,” Nicholas mumbled, not entirely understanding what his father was suggesting. “I have spent my time with him and it can be quite devastating to witness.”
“Some might say it is enough work for two people.”
Nicholas’ head jerked upward, and he gaped at his father in surprise. Was he sincerely recommending that Nicholas leave in the midst of church and return to Rosecliff?
His heart fluttered at the thought. What would she say if he returned to assist in the care of his cousin? Would she be alarmed or welcome the gesture?
There is only one way to learn how she feels about such a bold move,he reasoned and before he could reconsider his actions, Nicholas was on his feet. Betsey stared up at him, her blue eyes dark and he could read the mourn in their depth.
She, too, is concerned for her brother. She should not be made to sit here and wonder about his health.
“Come along, Betsey,” he called quietly, extending his hand for her to follow. The girl looked about in confusion but to his relief, Duke Buford nodded his assent, despite his wife’s evident annoyance. Betsey did not need a second invitation and she hurried toward him, a tentative smile on her lips.
“Where are we going?” she breathed, her eyes darting about the nave nervously, but Nicholas did not answer. A low murmur of confusion and disapproval filled the pews, but Nicholas barely heard them, signalling for Andrew to follow him as he departed St. Aldhelm. Perhaps there was a way to salvage the day after all.
Chapter 11
Her heart ached as she watched young Harry thrashing about in his sleep, his eyes darting along the lines of his closed lids.
