Page 42 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Nicholas! Nicholas, wake up!”
He groaned and opened his eyes as Harry’s body came hurdling toward him, his eyes bright with happiness behind his bespectacled eyes.
“Happy Christmas!” he boomed as the boy stopped at his bedside. “What is the hour?”
“Not quite seven,” Harry replied, gesturing for him to rise. “But we must go down to the salon at once. Miss Rose has a wonderful surprise waiting for her.”
Nicholas sat up, blinking.
“What surprise?” he asked, a slight hammering in his chest.
“Her friends have arrived!” the child replied in a staged whisper. “They appeared in the night as if transported by St. Nicholas himself!”
“How can that be, Harry?” he demanded, feeling uneasy. “No one has written her friends. The decision to call them here was only made last evening!”
“Tis a Christmas miracle!” Harry chortled, clearly not understanding his cousin’s concern. “Hurry now! I imagine you wish to see her expression when she sees!”
“Indeed.”
Harry scampered from his cousin’s bedside as Theodore entered to part the curtains.
“At what hour did they arrive, Theodore?” he asked, and the butler turned to him in surprise.
“Only but an hour past, Lord Buford. Charming couple. I am certain that Miss Rose will be pleased. I understand she was not yet expecting them.”
“I imagine she will be surprised,” he agreed slowly, willing himself to be happy for Rose but the alarm in his gut would not be silenced.
Father already arranged for the Boyles to come before Rose accepted. That is the only explanation for this but why? Was it to be kind or to distract Rose while the hunting party arrives?
Nicholas was sure he knew the answer to his question without speaking it aloud.
Chapter 15
She was in a trance, her mouth parting but words failing her.
“Hello, Rose,” Bridget offered, rising from the chaise where she had been sitting, wringing her hands in nervousness. “You look well.”
“Bridget!” she gasped, tears filling her cobalt eyes. “John! My word!”
She flew toward them, her knees wobbling, uncaring of the display she was putting before the Framptons and Arlingtons.
Only moments ago, she had been ushered from her chambers and down the stairs without explanation, Duchess Buford’s Abigail, a woman named Trudy providing no answers as she led the hastily dressed governess, into the salon.
Rose had expected terrible things, despite it being Christmas Day, the mystery of what was happening causing her anxiousness and melancholy.
Did the duchess learn of my meeting with Nicholas last night? Has she sent for me to be fired?
The thought filled her with sick and by the time they arrived in the salon, Rose resigned to the inevitability that she would be on the next coach back to Dartford. Not once had she expected to see the Boyles.
Under the smiling eyes of the household, Rose buried her face into Bridget’s neck, sniffling back her emotion.
“How–when–how–” Rose stuttered, pulling away, and turning to Nicholas, who hung back against the wall near the doorway, with a peculiar expression on his face. He held her gaze, but his eyes were indecipherable as if he was hiding whatever he was feeling.
Is he displeased that the Boyles are here?She idly wondered but she pushed the concern aside. Nothing would diminish her excitement in that moment. However, John and Bridget had come to be at Rosecliff, she was ecstatic they had come.
“Collect yourself, child,” Duchess Buford instructed. “The duke and I decided to exercise some foresight and arrange for the Boyles to come even before seeking your approval. We did not think you would much mind, and now we can see we were correct in our assumptions.”
“Indeed, Your Grace! I cannot tell you how grateful I am for all you have done!”
