Page 51 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Hear hear!” John cackled, the display making him very uncomfortable and he raised his wine goblet up to toast. Rose laughed and pulled back, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a napkin before retrieving her fallen cutlery.
“You see?” she added after a small silence. “We are having much more fun than the men today.”
* * *
With the children and Boyles tucked safely away in their bedchambers, Rose took to wandering through the now-quiet corridors, a habit she had developed over the past weeks when her mind would not rest.
Even though she was certain the hunting party had retired to their quarters for the night, all well into their cups before retiring. They were apt to sleep as snoring hogs might, Rose wondered why she was risking such a brazen move that evening. She could easily chance upon Balfour in a drunken stumble, agog and unsure of his surroundings. Yet Rose knew there was someone else she was much more likely to see and that overrode her nervousness.
She had not seen Nicholas throughout the day, not even to bequeath him the scarf of red she had so carefully knitted for him for Christmas. She hoped to see him before the men ventured off into the woods for the expedition. Even a day without speaking to him seemed unbearably long.
Stealing into the kitchen, she held her breath, half-expecting to see his handsome frame standing before her in the shadowy darkness, waiting for her also.
He would not come here,she thought.He is likely just as much into his cups as all the others. What happened on Christmas Eve was simply a one-time event.
Then why, when she turned, did she still fully expect to walk into his arms, even when the dim light produced nothing but stealthy rodents who deigned for her to leave? Why did she sneak up the servants’ stairs, into the east wing where she had no cause to be and pass by the door to his apartment one time after the next, after the next? Was she hoping he would sense her there and open the door?
The blackness of night began to give way to a more forgiving grey and Rose turned to flee through the halls, her heart hammering ferociously in her chest. When she nearly tripped into her bedchambers in her haste, pressed the heavy door closed and sank against it, her head swimming with shame and disappointment.
She had never been so humiliated with herself.
You are a fool! What if he had seen you? What if Theodore or one of the Abigails had seen you? Shame! Shame! Shame!
Rose had not slept and she lay on the mattress, staring at the canopy above her head.
You must stay away from the marquess. You eat in the kitchen with the other orphans.
Chapter 18
The dreams were fitful, relentless, catching Nicholas in a whirlwind of confusion and desire. Rose was everywhere at once, walking beside him, her blonde tresses sweeping over his face taunting him but when he turned to look, she was gone. She darted ahead, her hands outstretched, beckoning him forward but when he ran, she had fallen to his back, shaking her head.
“You must be faster!” she warned. “You must see all at once!”
The words were inane to his ears and yet they were laced with caution, a warning which he could not quite comprehend.
“Philip, you must be faster!” she said again.
“I am not Philip!” he protested but suddenly he realized he was upon a ship on thrashing waters. He reached out to support himself as seawater stung his eyes blindly. Calling out, he stretched his hands toward Rose and her mouth moved but he could not hear her speak as her words were carried away by the wind.
He watched in horror as she turned to his father and her eyes glimmered with panic as if the duke had consumed her. She opened her mouth to scream but his father’s form dissolved into a pile of ash, swallowed by the driving waves crashing aboard the ship.
Panting, Nicholas sat up when Theodore spun from the window, his face surprised.
“Are you ill, Lord Buford?”
“No, Theodore,” he replied quickly. “I merely had a night terror.”
“Ah.” The old butler nodded wisely. “Tis the cups. The devil’s ale will do it.”
Nicholas tried to smile but he could not shake the terrible nightmare from his mind, his brow still encased in beads of sweat.
“Will you fetch me a cup of Adam’s Ale, Theodore?”
“Of course, my lord.”
The servant disappeared from view for a moment before returning with water for his master.
“Are you certain you are well enough to hunt today, my lord? You do seem quite…damp.”
