Page 37 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Of course, father,” he replied. “I have no intention of rushing things along with Miss Rose. We are dear friends now and I am quite content with the way things have proceeded.”
“That said, Nicholas, you must stop mooning over her like a lovesick schoolboy.”
He bristled at his father’s about face and he gaped stonily at him.
“Father, I do not –”
“Two children can see what is happening here,” he retorted, taking another long sip of his drink. “If the children can see it, that means anyone can.”
“And who are you fearful will see that your son has affections?” Nicholas snapped. “Andrew? Theodore? Peter?”
The duke chuckled mirthlessly.
“If you think they have not seen, you truly are a babe in the woods, son.”
“Then who, father? Why should you care if we have only manservants and Betties among us?”
“That will not be so come the week following Christmas,” Duke Buford explained, reaching for the decanter to refill his glass. “I have invited a rather large hunting party to stay on the estate to ring in the new year at Rosecliff. Among them will be some very influential men, Nicholas, men who you will be working among one day. It is imperative that you show a strong front when they come and son, Rose Parsons brings forth the weakness in you.”
He was both hurt and angered to hear the warning, partially because he accepted the truth of what his father was saying. Yet, he had always been bold and professional among the cabinet and ministers. How could his father ever believe he would sacrifice his reputation for an unrequited flirtation?
“Do you understand what I am telling you, Nicholas?” his father asked.
“Of course, father,” he replied, trying to keep the ire from his voice. “You would rather I push Rose into the background while the party is here.”
“Not necessarily, Nicholas but I would suggest you keep a politer distance from her for that time. When the men have left, all will resume as usual.”
Nicholas swallowed and nodded stiffly, rising to his feet. He was no longer hungry.
“Is that all, father?”
“Yes, Nicholas.”
He turned to leave as his father called out to him, but he did not turn around, although he did stop.
“You must know that whatever I ask of you is ultimately for you. I do not make requests to be cruel, but I do know that the world can be precisely that; cruel and unforgiving. Do not forget that, Nicholas.”
Nicholas exited the library, slipping down the dark hallway toward the servant’s stairs, not wanting to encounter any other member of the household.
There would be time enough to apologize to his cousins for his behavior but now was not the time. He only wished to be alone, contemplating all his father had told him.
They will be here in a fortnight, dangerous men, men of power and influence. I must not let father down nor must I show weakness. I understand what needs to be done and afterward, I will be privy to all that father knows about dukedom. I can keep away from Rose for three weeks. After that, we will resume our friendship and perhaps it will be stronger. After all, what is that adage? Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it.
Chapter 13
The chatter of the children met Rose’s ears before she had fully descended the stairwell, and she smiled to herself, hearing the infectious good cheer in their voices. When she arrived in the sitting room, the Framptons and Arlingtons had already congregated upon the yule log.
“Miss Rose, do come and sit!” Betsey called when her blue eyes fell upon the governess hovering in the doorway. “Tis a Christmas Eve tradition to ponder upon the new log before we cast it into the fireplace.”
“I am certain Miss Rose knows of the custom, Betsey,” Duchess Buford chuckled but her green eyes were warm as she nodded to encourage Rose forward, but she was reluctant to move, enjoying the beauty of the scene before her.
The candelabra held dozens of sticks, the soft glow illuminating the faces of the family in all their excitement, the fire roaring fully and warmly. Boughs of holly and ivy interlaced the apartment, and the smell of rosemary intermingled with the scent of burning wood plucked a note of wistfulness in Rose’s heart.
She had spent but two Christmases with Philip, three without him but as she regarded the family, she was reminded of the times she had spent divining her true love. The first yule had been before their civil wedding, two months after they had met in Chelmsford. He had been on leave from the Navy, unsure of when he would be called back to action.
“We must make the most of the time we have together,” he told her, She remembered little else about those days but that she had been truly loved for the first time in her lonely life.
The second Christmas she had spent with Philip had been the following year, him returning just on Christmas Eve with a smile on his face. They joined the Boyles for a meager supper of mutton stew and bread.
