Page 60 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
The analogy filled him with shame and he thought of how many days and nights Rose had sat, watching for her beloved Philip to return.
“As you wish, my lord,” she murmured, knowing that an argument was useless if he had made up his mind. “I will inform Trudy to expect your arrival.”
“Oh, you mustn’t!” Nicholas chuckled. “I would much rather catch the expression on her face if I should arrive in the galley, donning an apron.”
“My lord!” Rose gasped, her imagination running amok with such an image. She burst into a tinkling laughter which warmed him throughout his entire body.
I could listen to her laugh all the day.
“Imagine what the men would say then,” he continued, prancing about as if he was serving a tray. He flipped his head in a coquettish fashion, batting his eyes.
“Lord Hastings, your leg of lamb,” he announced, leaning forward to present the unseen dish. “Mr. Cromely, may I refill your cup?”
“You seem more a bar wench than a servant girl,” Rose giggled but her face grew scarlet as the words left her mouth. “I – I only meant –I did not mean —”
Nicholas stared at her, his mouth agape in shock.
“You think I make a poor servant girl?”
“No!” Rose replied, her eyes widening. “You are a fine…”
She stopped speaking, apparently unsure of how to respond to such an inane inquiry. Nicholas held her stare sternly and suddenly burst into peals of laughter. She was relieved.
“Lord Buford, you had me alarmed!” she sighed, realizing that he was merely jesting with her. “I nearly–”
She abruptly stopped speaking, her head rising fully to look past him.
“Rose? What is it?”
She pointed, brushing past him toward the door but even before he turned, Nicholas was consumed with a feeling of dread. Perhaps he read the fear on her face or perchance he had known it all along but when Rose threw open the heavy front door, a bluster of wind sweeping through the front hall, there was no doubt.
Galloping toward them at full trot was Victor, his father’s hunting horse. He had no one on his back and no one followed as the animal grunted in frustration, raring his beautiful brown head.
“Oh, Lord Buford…” Rose breathed but Nicholas barely heard her, a wave of dizziness distorting his senses.
“Where are they?” he mumbled, stepping onto the slippery stoop to greet the snorting beast. “Victor, where are they?”
Of course, the animal could not answer but the howl of the wind seemed to imply it knew. Nicholas knew nothing good was waiting for them inside the woods.
Chapter 21
“Ifeel helpless,” Rose whispered, and Bridget pulled her close. “They are all combing the woods in the dark, in the storm and we remain here waiting for word. I feel just as…”
She did not finish her thought, but it was understood; it was as if she was waiting for word on Philip once more. Rose wished desperately that the men had not retreated into the night in search of their missing peers but there was little she could say to stop them. No one was apt to listen to a governess, no matter if she was seemingly the only one sound enough to foresee the danger which lay ahead.
“The temperatures are freezing, and the men are all in their altitudes. Instead of merely one missing group, we shall have a dozen missing men, all frozen to their deaths by morning!” Rose whimpered to the Boyles after the men charged into the night.
“You mustn’t think that way,” John chided softly. “They are experienced in hunting and tracking. They will find the duke and his men and return safely.”
Rose bit on her lower lip to contain more terrified words from escaping. There was no positive outcome to be had. Something awful had occurred in the woods, of that there was no doubt but what? Had someone been injured or taken ill? Or was it much worse than that?
“Come, child. We will fix tea and wait for word together in the salon,” Bridget told her, guiding her from the galley and into the front of the house
“I will see to the tea, Mrs. Boyle,” Trudy volunteered, and Rose eyed the woman gratefully.
Her concern for Nicholas was paramount but only slightly more than the worry she had for the duke. The Boyles’ words to her earlier that morning still rang in her head and gooseflesh prickled her arms. She could not supress the thought that Captain Balfour had something to do with the group’s predicament.
“You are a fright, my dear,” Bridget said, feeling the chill course through Rose’s body. “Let us get you warm.”
