Page 3 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
More thunder?
Rose lifted her fine-lined jaw, trying to see past the sheets of water falling from the slate sky. Her heart stopped beating as she realized what she was hearing, knees growing weak.
Can it be?
“Rose? What are you doing, child? You will catch your death out here!” Bridget called from the wraparound porch of her home, but Rose could not acknowledge her.
The approaching horsemen had her full attention. Slowly, her body moved toward the figures, her pulse racing to the rhythm of the horses’ hooves.
“Philip!” she gasped, her voice barely carrying over the wind. “Philip!”
Her long legs pumped along the muddy ground, her careworn shoes catching in the slop, but Rose did not permit her lost footwear to slow her. Waving her arms, tears of happiness began to streak her cheeks as two long years of waiting flooded from her body.
Oh, my love,she cried silently, her body stopping as the two dark horses eased their gait at her approach.
She wanted desperately to compose herself but the emotions were far too strong. She threw her head back, a quivering smile on her lips as the two men in British navy uniforms peered down at her.
“Mrs. Rose Parsons?”
“Yes!” Rose replied but her eyes darted from the speaker to the man at his side, her smile beginning to fade.
“You were married to Lieutenant Philip Parsons?”
The question pushed into Rose like a physical blow, and before he could speak another word, a low, feral wail filled the air.
I am married to Philip! We are currently married! Why did he ask it like that?
She knew precisely why the stranger had asked it in such a fashion. Neither man before her was her husband, the man with whom she would have children and grow old. How could they be? It was clear they had come to give her the worst possible news.
Philip was never coming home.
“Mrs. Parsons?” the younger man called.
A hundred images swept through her mind. Philip smiling at her as they walked arm-in-arm through the streets, his profile as he smoked his pipe, cheeks concaving as he inhaled. She saw him on the day he left, promising to return if she greeted him with the same love she felt in her heart.
You vowed to return to me! You swore it!
She stood in the blinding rain, looking up at the men, a denial ready to spring from her lips. Yet when she opened her mouth to respond, no words escaped.
They are speaking the truth. He is not coming home.
Rose fainted.
Chapter 2
Ashot pierced the bright blue sky in a fog of smoke, again startling the peace of the otherwise still morning. With a terrible squawk, the pheasant halted mid-flight and spun dizzily toward the field as the hounds yapped, hurrying to retrieve its fallen body.
“Well done!” the Duke of Buford cried heartily. He cocked his own rifle upward, narrowing a green eye carefully to line his aim. “I daresay you are out-shooting me today, Nicholas.”
“You must have known that the day would come, father,” Nicholas replied dryly, casting his father a sidelong look as the older man steadied his hand. “Surely you must have accounted for such a thing when you taught me to be a skilled marksman.”
The duke chuckled, firing into the flock of birds. He was successful this time and another carcass fell to the ground. Nicholas watched as his father lower his gun and turned to look at him.
“You never fail to impress me, son.”
The words had a warming effect on Nicholas and he smiled tentatively.
“Thank you, father,” he murmured, slightly abashed by the compliment.
