The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor_A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  “Happy Christmas!” he chortled. “Yule time tidings, young man! I learned that you were unable to join your sister caroling this evening, so we have decided to bring the caroling to your bedside!”

  “Tis not Christmas!” Harry laughed, his chuckles evaporating into a coughing spasm.

  “Nonsense! Any day could be Christmas!” Lord Buford insisted.

  “And any day is a day for a picnic!” Betsey squealed, running to throw herself onto her brother’s bed. Harry’s sky colored eyes lit up at the sight of his sister in her Christmas best and his noble cousin dressed in such foolishness, but he did sit up, despite his fever.

  “The duchess will not approve of this,” Harry mumbled, and Rose had the same thought, but she was not about to deprive the child of the first smiles she had seen all day. The wrath of the duchess was a small price to pay for a child’s happiness.

  Rose ambled to her feet, smoothing the pink of her church gown where it had wrinkled. On the floor, Nicholas had lay a gingham blanket near the hearth and threw several more logs on the fire to ensure Harry would be kept warm throughout their meal. He did not seem to notice her eyes on him as he continued to set up the children’s picnic but with every move he took, Rose found herself insurmountably endeared.

  I must recall to write the Boyles and tell them of how the Marquess of Buford got onto the cold, dirty floor, donning such an outfit to befit his cousins with a picnic. They would never believe royalty behaves in such a way. They will accuse me of exaggeration.

  Even as she watched it with her own two eyes, Rose could barely conceive what was happening, but when he was finished, Nicholas gestured for the children and her to join him on the blanket where he doled out bits of cheese and bread, pouring wine into goblets he had snuck from the armoire in the formal dining room.

  “Nothing is too good for my family,” he told them, raising his glass to present a toast. “Shall we always be together, in good health and bad.”

  “Hear hear!” the Arlingtons chimed, touching their sips of port to his. Rose said nothing, her heart beginning to race as his toast echoed in her ears. In that moment, there was no pain or sorrow. There was only a family gathered around a fireplace, jesting and snacking on morsels of cheese.

  She wanted nothing more than to cling to the sensation of happiness which filled her chest in those moments, to live them as if they were to be the last moments of her life. When he looked up at her, his eyes sparkling becomingly, Rose realized that accepting the posting as Harry’s governess had done so much more than simply given her hope for the future. It had given her a reason to leave her past in Dartford and open her heart to the possibilities coming.

  In my mind, he has become Nicholas to me. I hope I do not dare say such a thing aloud and certainly not before the duke and duchess. I will be terminated at once!

  Rose wondered if that was the reason for the unexpected fear which suddenly tainted the moment and left her breathless but as Nicholas continued to stare at her, she noticed his eyes darken slightly as if he, too, shared in her worrisome, private thought.

  Chapter 12

  As Nicholas had known, Harry made a full recovery in one day’s time, resuming his tutelage with his governess as if he had never been sick for a moment, and in days, the boy had resumed his high energy and good cheer.

  Nicholas had never seen the boy so enamored with Eloise and the marquess suspected that his cousin had designs on the beautiful blonde widow.

  Not that I fault him in the least. She is compassionate and empathetic. I saw how she eased Harry to sleep.

  He had not meant to watch her but when he returned to Rosecliff from church that Sunday, he had sent Betsey to dress in her choir attire while he went to see how Harry fared. He had not expected such a touching display of emotion, Rose embracing the young lord as if he was her own, rocking him sweetly as she hummed a song he did not know.

  By the time he had realized how long he had been staring, it was much too late to explain himself and so, he did not. There was no need to embarrass her when she was still so uncomfortable in his presence. Or she had been until their makeshift picnic and suddenly everything between them seemed to change.

  Where he had once only stolen glances of her in the halls and vied for her attention at supper, Rose seemed more willing to converse and put forth an effort to seek him out. When she went on outings into Buford Woods with the Arlington siblings, she sought him out to join.

  The four spent hours trekking the snow, using snowshoes which the duke acquired on one of his travels or cross-country skis which left them exhausted and sore at the end of daylight. Of course, under the watchful eyes of the duke and duchess, they were proper and formal with no sign of the tomfoolery displayed in between the pines where balls of snow were hurled back and forth among them.

  “You have much better color, my dear,” Duchess Buford declared from her end of the table. “And I daresay you have gained flesh for those bones.”

  Nicholas turned to catch the slight blush touch Rose’s face, but it seemed the governess had learned to bear his mother’s odd compliments and regard them as such.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin before replacing it on her lap. “I daresay the air near the sea is much healthier than that of Dartford.”

  “All here is much healthier than that of Dartford,” the duke chortled, and Nicholas could see he was in his cups. “Especially now that we have the charming Rose Parsons in our midst, yea?”

  Rose swallowed a smile and shifted her eyes downward but not before she caught Nicholas’ eye. He winked but to his chagrin it was not unnoticed by his mother’s sharp eye.

  “Is there something amiss with your eye, Nicholas?”

  “No, mother. Why do you ask?” He knew precisely why but he did not wish to give into her disapproval so easily. Why should he? He had done nothing wrong, after all. He and Rose had developed a wonderful friendship and he had no reason to explain himself for such a thing. Nicholas wondered why he was suddenly seized by guilt.

  “Perhaps she caught you winking at Miss Rose,” Harry volunteered, and Nicholas stifled a groan.

  “Indeed,” Duke Buford agreed. “I daresay we all saw the act, son.”

  He cast Rose a sidelong look and she was nearly purple with humiliation.

  “I haven’t a clue what you mean,” Nicholas replied. “Perhaps I caught a speck of dust in my eye. You have all misconstrued an innocent act and now you’ve embarrassed Miss Rose.”

  “I doubt it was a speck of dust you have in your eye,” Betsey chuckled, and Nicholas was growing angry.

  “Have you no shame?” he demanded. “You are speaking about a lord and your governess! Apologize to Miss Rose at once for the lack of respect you have shown her!”

  “It is all right, Lord Buford,” Rose interjected quickly, now feeling panicky. “Twas a misunderstanding.”

  “Indeed, Nicholas. Calm your temper at once!” Duchess Buford snapped, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “This is the supper table, not an arena for jousting.”

  She cast her husband a wise look and the duke cleared his throat. They stared at each other for a long while and Nicholas could almost read the silent messages of communication between them.

  “What is it?” he demanded, still angered by his cousins even though he fully acknowledged he was making a mountain out of a molehill, but he was unsure why he had reacted so defensively.

  “Nicholas, I would like a word in the library,” his father said, rising laboriously. His plate sat half-finished and Nicholas said as much.

  “The food will keep. I will not,” Duke Buford replied sternly. “Come along.”

  Nicholas rose reluctantly, shooting Rose an apologetic look but she maintained her gaze on the food before her, blonde hair falling over her shoulders.

  “I am waiting, Nicholas.”

  “I am coming, father,” he grumbled, skulking along like a child rather than a grown man.

 
; If I am to be reprimanded for speaking to the cousins in such a way, I will not have it, he told himself firmly. I have just as much say in their rearing as either mother or father.

  “Sherry?” the duke asked as he threw open the dark door to the library and strolled toward the decanters on a shadowy shelf.

  “Yes,” he replied, folding his arms across his large chest and waiting for the beginnings of his lecture. “I could use the lubrication for what’s forthcoming.”

  The duke snickered, pouring the drinks before turning to hand a short-stemmed goblet to his son.

  “You surprise me on occasion, Nicholas,” his father said, arching an eyebrow as he brought the glass to his mouth.

  “I assume that was not meant to be puffing, father?”

  “Sometimes, I think myself too gentle with you, too tight with the reins because I fear you will be disillusioned with politics. I think, Grayson, he is too kind for what a cruel world there is beyond what he knows. He is a good boy.”

  Nicholas stared at his father, his jaw locking as he waited for the rest of the soliloquy.

  “Then I consider how strong you are, built like an ox, a man of stature and charisma. I tell myself, you are wrong, Grayson old chap, this boy will go far with his maturity and intelligence.”

  “Father – “

  “And I decide,” Duke Buford continued as if Nicholas had not spoken. “To give you more responsibility, to show you more. But what do you do before I can bequeath you more power? You explode in a fit of anger like a boy of three about what? About a flirtation which everyone in the household is aware?”

  Nicholas’ mouth parted but no words fell forth.

  “Everyone knows you have designs on Rose Parsons, Nicholas. It is no secret and the children were not mocking you. They adore that woman likely as much as you do.”

  “I know they do, father,” Nicholas sighed deeply.

  “Then why on God’s green earth would you snap at them so ferociously? They are children, Nicholas!”

  “I know, father and I will ask their forgiveness,” he muttered, heat burning his face. “It was childish, I concur.”

  “What is it with Miss Rose, Nicholas?” his father prompted. “I have seen the way you two exchange glances, but I sense that you are not the lovers you wish to be.”

  Nicholas shook his head miserably and sank onto the chaise, tasting his sherry for the first time.

  “I am not sure what it is,” he confessed. “She seems to enjoy our time together and she seeks me out for companionship but only with the children. She keeps me at a fair distance.”

  Nicholas gazed at his father.

  “One moment, father – you know of my affections for her and you approve?”

  “Why would I not? I cannot think of a better match for you, Nicholas. She is lovely and kind, wonderful with children. What else could you possibly wish for in a wife?”

  “Her lack of status does not trouble you?”

  He loathed to ask, the question sounding crass to his own ears, but he needed to ensure that if he could ever convince Rose to be courted, he would not be disapproved by his parents. They would have a difficult enough affair convincing the rest of England of their legitimacy without having a war within the manor walls.

  I have gotten much ahead of myself.

  “How many times have your mother and I told you we only want what makes you the happiest? If we were concerned with status, we would have married you off a long while ago and I believe you know that.”

  He did. His parents had never forced any of the traditional ways upon him, not since the day he was born. The choice had always been his and now, he believed he knew what he wanted.

  Yet she is not ready. Life is cruel, is it not?

  “It must be trying for a widow,” Duke Buford offered. “Particularly one in a new town, without family or friends to speak of. I see how she stares after you, Nicholas. In time, she will succumb to your charms, but you cannot force your hand in such things. I suspect in Miss Rose’s case, she would sooner leave than be cornered into a place she does not feel she is ready to be in. And if she leaves, the children will be devastated.”

  Nicholas knew they would not be the only ones.

  “Of course, father,” he replied. “I have no intention of rushing things along with Miss Rose. We are dear friends now and I am quite content with the way things have proceeded.”

  “That said, Nicholas, you must stop mooning over her like a lovesick schoolboy.”

  He bristled at his father’s about face and he gaped stonily at him.

  “Father, I do not –”

  “Two children can see what is happening here,” he retorted, taking another long sip of his drink. “If the children can see it, that means anyone can.”

  “And who are you fearful will see that your son has affections?” Nicholas snapped. “Andrew? Theodore? Peter?”

  The duke chuckled mirthlessly.

  “If you think they have not seen, you truly are a babe in the woods, son.”

  “Then who, father? Why should you care if we have only manservants and Betties among us?”

  “That will not be so come the week following Christmas,” Duke Buford explained, reaching for the decanter to refill his glass. “I have invited a rather large hunting party to stay on the estate to ring in the new year at Rosecliff. Among them will be some very influential men, Nicholas, men who you will be working among one day. It is imperative that you show a strong front when they come and son, Rose Parsons brings forth the weakness in you.”

  He was both hurt and angered to hear the warning, partially because he accepted the truth of what his father was saying. Yet, he had always been bold and professional among the cabinet and ministers. How could his father ever believe he would sacrifice his reputation for an unrequited flirtation?

  “Do you understand what I am telling you, Nicholas?” his father asked.

  “Of course, father,” he replied, trying to keep the ire from his voice. “You would rather I push Rose into the background while the party is here.”

  “Not necessarily, Nicholas but I would suggest you keep a politer distance from her for that time. When the men have left, all will resume as usual.”

  Nicholas swallowed and nodded stiffly, rising to his feet. He was no longer hungry.

  “Is that all, father?”

  “Yes, Nicholas.”

  He turned to leave as his father called out to him, but he did not turn around, although he did stop.

  “You must know that whatever I ask of you is ultimately for you. I do not make requests to be cruel, but I do know that the world can be precisely that; cruel and unforgiving. Do not forget that, Nicholas.”

  Nicholas exited the library, slipping down the dark hallway toward the servant’s stairs, not wanting to encounter any other member of the household.

  There would be time enough to apologize to his cousins for his behavior but now was not the time. He only wished to be alone, contemplating all his father had told him.

  They will be here in a fortnight, dangerous men, men of power and influence. I must not let father down nor must I show weakness. I understand what needs to be done and afterward, I will be privy to all that father knows about dukedom. I can keep away from Rose for three weeks. After that, we will resume our friendship and perhaps it will be stronger. After all, what is that adage? Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it.

  Chapter 13

  The chatter of the children met Rose’s ears before she had fully descended the stairwell, and she smiled to herself, hearing the infectious good cheer in their voices. When she arrived in the sitting room, the Framptons and Arlingtons had already congregated upon the yule log.

  “Miss Rose, do come and sit!” Betsey called when her blue eyes fell upon the governess hovering in the doorway. “Tis a Christmas Eve tradition to ponder upon the new log before we cast it into the fireplace.”

  “I am certain Miss Rose knows of the custom, Betsey,” Duchess Bufo
rd chuckled but her green eyes were warm as she nodded to encourage Rose forward, but she was reluctant to move, enjoying the beauty of the scene before her.

  The candelabra held dozens of sticks, the soft glow illuminating the faces of the family in all their excitement, the fire roaring fully and warmly. Boughs of holly and ivy interlaced the apartment, and the smell of rosemary intermingled with the scent of burning wood plucked a note of wistfulness in Rose’s heart.