Page 40 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“No, you may not,” Duchess Buford replied before her husband could speak. “You may spend the evening with your charges and you may write your friends before you retire for the night. The mails will not go anywhere until the morn.”
Rose did not permit the disappointment to show on her face, knowing that the duchess spoke the truth.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she answered, hanging her head with contrition. “Forgive my silliness in the moment.”
“It is quite all right. Now, shall we play commerce?”
Rose nodded and joined the nobles at the table. For the rest of the night she recalled nothing but how Nicholas refused to meet her eyes.
Chapter 14
Tis nothing more than a distraction for her,Nicholas thought, unable to sleep that night despite having been into several cups of wine, but his mind was still fixated on what had occurred earlier.
When Nicholas had told his father about Rose’s childhood, it had not entered his thoughts that the duke would betray his confidence and tell her that he knew. Not that the duke or duchess viewed the governess any differently with the knowledge but not everyone behaved as his parents did. Rose would surely see it as a breach of trust and Nicholas had been shamed, blindsided by his father’s seeming innocuous gesture.
He had gained so much experience averting his eyes in her presence that it had come artificially when she had gazed at him accusingly. Nicholas had no idea that his parents had planned such a surprise for his new friend and he admitted he was endeared by the gesture. Yet he could not help but wonder if there was another motive for the duke’s actions, something clandestine and underhanded. Was it simple happenstance that the invitation to Rose’s neighbors was extended at the same time as the impending hunting excursion?
Nonsense!Nicholas thought, furious with himself for allowing such a dark thought into his mind.Your father is a good man with noble intentions. Rose’s neighbors could not possibly reach here before the party has come and gone. One has nothing to do with the other and shame on you for thinking such a thing.
Since the talk with his father, Nicholas had maintained a distance between himself and Rose, hoping that it would become easier to overlook her imploring eyes as she tried to understand his sudden about face. He made himself unavailable, reaching out to his friends in the towns to avoid having to refuse the governess’ and his cousins’ constant solicitations.
Tis bad enough rejecting Rose but to add Harry and Betsey to the fold; it is near torturous.
Nicholas had enough tossing among the sheets and he rose to fetch his slippers and over-robe near the fire. Theodore had come in not an hour earlier to add another log to the flames, while Nicholas had pretended to be asleep in the four-poster bed, the curtains drawn halfway. He watched the elderly butler shuffle through the apartment before disappearing through the doorway and leaving Nicholas to his thoughts once more.
He will be back to put another log on the fire soon,Nicholas realized, wrapping the sash of his robe about his waist and hurrying toward the hallway. It was not that he was forbidden to leave his bedchambers at night. He merely did not wish to engage in conversation with the servants who would try to ply him with laudanum.
Warm milk is what I need,he decided, stealing through the shadows, a candlestick in hand.
How eerie the manor seemed at night, so still that even the mice seemed to sleep that chilly, damp eve as if waiting for St. Nicholas to visit them in slumber. The portraits above his head flickered past, the nobility of Rosecliff past peering down at him, their secrets forever sealed in the oils of the canvasses where they had been immobilized for eternity.
Soon, my painting will be among them,Nicholas realized and the thought gave him an inexplicable shiver.What secrets will I bring to my grave?
He made his way into the galley and stood corrected as the sneaking rodents scrambled at his footfalls, fallen crumbs in their thieving paws as they dove for cover.
Nicholas remained in the middle of the vast kitchen like he had forgotten the reason for his trip.
“Are you angry with me, Lord Buford?”
He whirled at the sound of Rose’s voice and raised the candle to look into the darkness.
Her long hair was loose, flowing over her nightclothes and Nicholas felt heat shoot through his body, tainting his face red in darkness.
“Miss Rose! This is inappropriate!” he sputtered, backing away as if she approached but she did not. She rested in her spot near the servant’s stairs, her head cocked slightly to the side in confusion.
“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I do not oft see another when I come here at night.”
“You oft come here at night?” he asked. He was more curious than embarrassed.
“I find sleep elusive,” she replied softly. “I oft seek out warm milk. I see you suffer the same ailment.”
“Not often,” Nicholas confessed. “Perhaps it is the charge of the night.”
She nodded and stepped forward tentatively.
“May I fix you a cup of warm milk and almonds, my lord?”
He knew he should excuse himself and return to his bedchambers, but he could not bring himself to do that, not when he wanted to be there with her in that moment. It had been many days since they had even spoken, and he admitted that he had missed her awfully.
