Page 35 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
Chapter 12
As Nicholas had known, Harry made a full recovery in one day’s time, resuming his tutelage with his governess as if he had never been sick for a moment, and in days, the boy had resumed his high energy and good cheer.
Nicholas had never seen the boy so enamored with Eloise and the marquess suspected that his cousin had designs on the beautiful blonde widow.
Not that I fault him in the least. She is compassionate and empathetic. I saw how she eased Harry to sleep.
He had not meant to watch her but when he returned to Rosecliff from church that Sunday, he had sent Betsey to dress in her choir attire while he went to see how Harry fared. He had not expected such a touching display of emotion, Rose embracing the young lord as if he was her own, rocking him sweetly as she hummed a song he did not know.
By the time he had realized how long he had been staring, it was much too late to explain himself and so, he did not. There was no need to embarrass her when she was still so uncomfortable in his presence. Or she had been until their makeshift picnic and suddenly everything between them seemed to change.
Where he had once only stolen glances of her in the halls and vied for her attention at supper, Rose seemed more willing to converse and put forth an effort to seek him out. When she went on outings into Buford Woods with the Arlington siblings, she sought him out to join.
The four spent hours trekking the snow, using snowshoes which the duke acquired on one of his travels or cross-country skis which left them exhausted and sore at the end of daylight. Of course, under the watchful eyes of the duke and duchess, they were proper and formal with no sign of the tomfoolery displayed in between the pines where balls of snow were hurled back and forth among them.
“You have much better color, my dear,” Duchess Buford declared from her end of the table. “And I daresay you have gained flesh for those bones.”
Nicholas turned to catch the slight blush touch Rose’s face, but it seemed the governess had learned to bear his mother’s odd compliments and regard them as such.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin before replacing it on her lap. “I daresay the air near the sea is much healthier than that of Dartford.”
“All here is much healthier than that of Dartford,” the duke chortled, and Nicholas could see he was in his cups. “Especially now that we have the charming Rose Parsons in our midst, yea?”
Rose swallowed a smile and shifted her eyes downward but not before she caught Nicholas’ eye. He winked but to his chagrin it was not unnoticed by his mother’s sharp eye.
“Is there something amiss with your eye, Nicholas?”
“No, mother. Why do you ask?” He knew precisely why but he did not wish to give into her disapproval so easily. Why should he? He had done nothing wrong, after all. He and Rose had developed a wonderful friendship and he had no reason to explain himself for such a thing. Nicholas wondered why he was suddenly seized by guilt.
“Perhaps she caught you winking at Miss Rose,” Harry volunteered, and Nicholas stifled a groan.
“Indeed,” Duke Buford agreed. “I daresay we all saw the act, son.”
He cast Rose a sidelong look and she was nearly purple with humiliation.
“I haven’t a clue what you mean,” Nicholas replied. “Perhaps I caught a speck of dust in my eye. You have all misconstrued an innocent act and now you’ve embarrassed Miss Rose.”
“I doubt it was a speck of dust you have in your eye,” Betsey chuckled, and Nicholas was growing angry.
“Have you no shame?” he demanded. “You are speaking about a lord and your governess! Apologize to Miss Rose at once for the lack of respect you have shown her!”
“It is all right, Lord Buford,” Rose interjected quickly, now feeling panicky. “Twas a misunderstanding.”
“Indeed, Nicholas. Calm your temper at once!” Duchess Buford snapped, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “This is the supper table, not an arena for jousting.”
She cast her husband a wise look and the duke cleared his throat. They stared at each other for a long while and Nicholas could almost read the silent messages of communication between them.
“What is it?” he demanded, still angered by his cousins even though he fully acknowledged he was making a mountain out of a molehill, but he was unsure why he had reacted so defensively.
“Nicholas, I would like a word in the library,” his father said, rising laboriously. His plate sat half-finished and Nicholas said as much.
“The food will keep. I will not,” Duke Buford replied sternly. “Come along.”
Nicholas rose reluctantly, shooting Rose an apologetic look but she maintained her gaze on the food before her, blonde hair falling over her shoulders.
“I am waiting, Nicholas.”
“I am coming, father,” he grumbled, skulking along like a child rather than a grown man.
