Page 45 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“As am I,” she replied softly, her eyes still locked on his chiseled jawline and bright irises.
He has such beautiful eyes,she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat as she realized how close they sat to one another. She could smell his Albany cologne, the lavender and citrus teasing her nose and for an unbearable moment, she wanted to lean closer and inhale him as if he was a freshly blowing flower in the garden beyond the brake.
Rose was filled with a heady sense of remembrance, brought back to the galley in the middle of the night. With nothing but flickering candlelight between them, and she had been overcome with a desire to know if his lips tasted like the port he shared with his father in the library after dinner.
If he had not run off, she was certain she would have touched his face at minimum. Just as she yearned to do in that moment.
“Amen!” the church cried in a relieved roar and everyone ambled to their feet in unison, breaking whatever spell seemed to have befallen them for those intoxicating moments.
“Is it finally over?” Harry yawned without bothering to cover his mouth.
“Yes,” Rose chuckled as they filed from the pews and toward their stagecoach.
“Why does he talk so much?” Betsey grumbled as they piled into the coach. Andrew was patiently waiting to see the household inside. As the duke and duchess finished making their rounds, they, too joined the younger generation in the carriage, along with Andrew and started back toward Rosecliff.
The children fell silent, knowing they were better seen than heard but Rose also knew they did not have anything to contribute, but complaints about the service and Father Benchman.
“We will have turkey for dinner tonight,” Duke Buford happily announced, clapping his hands.
“Turkey. What a barbaric tradition,” the duchess grumbled. “I would much rather we stayed with pig’s head as we always do.”
“Now, darling, there is no harm in trying new things, is there, Nicholas?”
“Indeed, father,” he replied, turning his head slightly to smile at Rose. For the first time, she did not blush under his scrutiny, his eyes filling her with something she had believed died with Philip.
There was a quiet in the coach as Andrew led them safely back toward the sprawling estate but as they neared, the duke released a cry of surprise.
“My word, what is this?”
Everyone in the carriage leaned toward the window to see what the duke stared at. A simple carriage sat on the drive, one snorting black horse who needed to be watered but sat unattended.
“Who in the devil could this be?” the duke muttered. “Are you expecting someone?”
“On Christmas Day? Heavens no,” the duchess replied, casting her own gaze around the cab. “Nicholas?”
“Certainly not,” he replied as Andrew opened the door. “Perhaps he is a weary traveller who has lost his way.”
The household piled from the coach, each one looking at the strange wagon for clues to its owner, but it told them only that the man was not inside.
Before they could reach the front door, Theodore appeared, his face seeming drawn with apology.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” he groveled. “But I could not turn him away.”
“Who is it?” the duke demanded, pushing his way inside.
“Remain here,” Nicholas told the others, following his father but before the younger Frampton could cross the threshold, a peal of raucous laughter rang out toward them.
“What on God’s earth…?” the duchess mumbled, also making her way toward the chuckles of the duke and whoever was there, leaving the children to stare at Rose for instruction.
“I daresay it does not seem like danger,” she offered, chuckling. “We should not be the only ones missing out on the laughter, particularly not on Christmas.”
Betsey and Harry agreed, and more chortles met their ears as they crossed through the foyer. The duke clapped heartily on the shoulder of a tall man with greying blonde hair tucked beneath a familiar hat. Rose’s knees grew weak as she recognized it at once, her frame shrinking back to meet the wall.
“Miss Rose, are you ill?” Harry called, his voice rising with concern. “Nicholas! Nicholas!”
But Rose could not hear anything but a low rushing which filled her ears endlessly.
“Miss Rose?”
