Page 91 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“I left you to act in my absence,” the 5thDuke of Buford growled, his green eyes flashing with anger. “Instead, you allow greed and corruption not only inside Buford but inside our home!”
“Father, I do not know what you mean,” Nicholas protested. “What corruption? Who?”
Yet Nicholas did not need to be told. His father’s words were not new, nor were they shocking.
“Captain Balfour.”
Father and son stared at one another.
“What does he want, father?”
The older duke snorted and shook his head.
“Is it not clear? He wants your mother and all the glory which comes along with marrying a duchess.”
“I am the Duke of Buford!” Nicholas protested.
“As was I,” Grayson Frampton murmured, his face fading away.
“No, father, do not leave!”
He had already vanished, leaving Nicholas in a blinding sea of white and instantly, he knew where he stood; the Buford Woods, the night his father had died.
“No!” Nicholas choked. “I do not wish to be here!”
He whirled around, looking for Victor. He knew what waited just beyond the swirling winds and blanket of snow. When he pivoted, he did not see the horse but a lone man, fighting through the darkness, headed toward the fallen tree where his father’s body lay.
“Your Grace?” the man called. “Are you here?”
It was Balfour again, battling the storm, seeking his father.
He went back for father! Why did he not say so?
“Your Grace?”
“I am here, Balfour. Right where you left me.”
Nicholas tried to step closer, to see where Balfour went, to see his father, alive still beneath the downed tree. Yet his steps forward went nowhere and he could see nothing but the wave of ice pelting against his face.
“You came back for me,” Nicholas heard his father say but there was contempt in his voice. “Why?”
“I could not take the chance that you would die this way,” Balfour explained. A scream of terror filled the air, followed by a sickening thud and silence.
“I could not take the chance. I had to ensure you would die.”
“No!” Nicholas shouted but again, he was not where he started, his legs running through the manor.
Was someone chasing him?
He turned to look at his back, his pace not slowing but he saw no one as he rushed toward the west wing.
Rose! I must get to Rose!
Panic filled his gut but as he continued to speed through Rosecliff, he suddenly realized he was running in the same place, stationary as if he was a mime.
“Rose!” he yelled, not certain why he needed to warn her but the dread was true and he knew that he was nearly too late. “Rose!”
“Your Grace!”
