The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor_A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  “I feel as if you have been avoiding us as of late,” Rose explained and Nicholas cringed slightly, grateful that she could not see his face with clarity.

  She has no issue speaking what is on her mind, that is a certainty. I must not forget that. She manages to surprise me with her frankness on occasion.

  “There are many matter to attend in the towns,” he replied and even as he spoke, the words seemed empty to his ears.

  She will see right through my bluffs, he thought, biting on his lip and turning his head away.

  “Of course, my lord,” Rose said quickly. “Forgive my naiveté. I would not dare ask such a foolish question but for…”

  He waited, making out the silhouette of her slender frame as she pulled the pan off the fire to cool.

  “But for what, Miss Rose?” he demanded, impatience tinging his tongue. He had not regarded Rose Parsons as a coquettish woman but she seemed to be acting the role and it bothered him. It diminished the respect he had for her.

  “Your cousins, my lord. They miss the time you once lavished upon them. I explained that you are a very busy man and they are bright children but I daresay they would like to see you if you can arrange for such an event.”

  Nicholas’ heart grew heavy as he realized that Rose was not being coy or sly. Once more, she had cast her own interests aside and was acting as an advocate for his cousins. He saw that she would not have dared ask such a brazen thing if she was not concerned for Harry and Betsey. It had not been Nicholas’ intention to forsake the children, not deliberately but they spent so much of their day with Rose, it made seeing them difficult.

  This is absolute ballocks! I should not have to ignore anyone in this house, no matter what father thinks! The children have endured enough without believing I, too have forgotten them.

  “I will speak with the children on the morrow,” he said gruffly, realizing that Rose was waiting for a response.

  “Thank you, my lord. My lord…?”

  “Yes, Miss Rose?”

  “I can arrange for you to have time alone with them if it pleases you.”

  Humiliation flooded Nicholas’ body, turning him warm from stem to stern.

  “That will not be necessary, Miss Rose.”

  “As you wish, Lord Buford.”

  She approached him slowly and slipped a cup on the counter in front of him. Their eyes met for the first time days and she gave him a small, timid smile. As he looked down into her pale face, her blue eyes shining up at him, he suddenly did not trust himself to be a gentleman.

  She is not seeking romance, he growled to himself. She is seeking a kind word or gesture to prove you are not angry with her.

  “Good night, Miss Rose,” Nicholas told her, turning away abruptly, snatching the hot cup from the wood surface. He did not remember to bring the candelabra but by the time he realized it, Nicholas was at the stairs. Yet he did not dare return to the galley, lest he could not overcome his desire to kiss her so easily given a second opportunity.

  Inhaling sharply, he ascended the steps, knowing the footing inherently. He had run them thousands of times since his boyhood, after all. He did not need the candle, not truly. Using his senses to guide him through the blackness, he wrapped his fingers around the hot cup and inhaled the sweetness of the milk in his nostrils.

  I did not take any almonds, he remembered but as he took the first sip of the honey laden liquid, Nicholas knew that he would have no issue falling into a deep sleep now.

  And when I dream, I am sure it will be of Rose Parsons.

  “Nicholas! Nicholas, wake up!”

  He groaned and opened his eyes as Harry’s body came hurdling toward him, his eyes bright with happiness behind his bespectacled eyes.

  “Happy Christmas!” he boomed as the boy stopped at his bedside. “What is the hour?”

  “Not quite seven,” Harry replied, gesturing for him to rise. “But we must go down to the salon at once. Miss Rose has a wonderful surprise waiting for her.”

  Nicholas sat up, blinking.

  “What surprise?” he asked, a slight hammering in his chest.

  “Her friends have arrived!” the child replied in a staged whisper. “They appeared in the night as if transported by St. Nicholas himself!”

  “How can that be, Harry?” he demanded, feeling uneasy. “No one has written her friends. The decision to call them here was only made last evening!”

  “Tis a Christmas miracle!” Harry chortled, clearly not understanding his cousin’s concern. “Hurry now! I imagine you wish to see her expression when she sees!”

  “Indeed.”

  Harry scampered from his cousin’s bedside as Theodore entered to part the curtains.

  “At what hour did they arrive, Theodore?” he asked, and the butler turned to him in surprise.

  “Only but an hour past, Lord Buford. Charming couple. I am certain that Miss Rose will be pleased. I understand she was not yet expecting them.”

  “I imagine she will be surprised,” he agreed slowly, willing himself to be happy for Rose but the alarm in his gut would not be silenced.

  Father already arranged for the Boyles to come before Rose accepted. That is the only explanation for this but why? Was it to be kind or to distract Rose while the hunting party arrives?

  Nicholas was sure he knew the answer to his question without speaking it aloud.

  Chapter 15

  She was in a trance, her mouth parting but words failing her.

  “Hello, Rose,” Bridget offered, rising from the chaise where she had been sitting, wringing her hands in nervousness. “You look well.”

  “Bridget!” she gasped, tears filling her cobalt eyes. “John! My word!”

  She flew toward them, her knees wobbling, uncaring of the display she was putting before the Framptons and Arlingtons.

  Only moments ago, she had been ushered from her chambers and down the stairs without explanation, Duchess Buford’s Abigail, a woman named Trudy providing no answers as she led the hastily dressed governess, into the salon.

  Rose had expected terrible things, despite it being Christmas Day, the mystery of what was happening causing her anxiousness and melancholy.

  Did the duchess learn of my meeting with Nicholas last night? Has she sent for me to be fired?

  The thought filled her with sick and by the time they arrived in the salon, Rose resigned to the inevitability that she would be on the next coach back to Dartford. Not once had she expected to see the Boyles.

  Under the smiling eyes of the household, Rose buried her face into Bridget’s neck, sniffling back her emotion.

  “How–when–how–” Rose stuttered, pulling away, and turning to Nicholas, who hung back against the wall near the doorway, with a peculiar expression on his face. He held her gaze, but his eyes were indecipherable as if he was hiding whatever he was feeling.

  Is he displeased that the Boyles are here? She idly wondered but she pushed the concern aside. Nothing would diminish her excitement in that moment. However, John and Bridget had come to be at Rosecliff, she was ecstatic they had come.

  “Collect yourself, child,” Duchess Buford instructed. “The duke and I decided to exercise some foresight and arrange for the Boyles to come even before seeking your approval. We did not think you would much mind, and now we can see we were correct in our assumptions.”

  “Indeed, Your Grace! I cannot tell you how grateful I am for all you have done!”

  It was clear that her blatant display of sentiment was growing irksome to her employers and she pleaded with herself to stop the tears.

  “Come along, children,” Duchess Buford called. “We must ready ourselves for services this morning. Let us leave the Boyles and Miss Rose to reacquaint themselves.”

  “Miss Rose, you will not join us at church?” Harry asked, his dark blue eyes wide with worry. Rose glanced at the Boyles apologetically before turning back to Harry.

  “Of course we shall,” she replied. “Permit me a moment with Mr. and Mrs
. Boyle and I, too, will ready myself for service.”

  Harry seemed content with the arrangement and disappeared after his aunt and sister but Nicholas remained.

  Realizing that the marquess had no intention of leaving, Rose offered, “Lord Nicholas Buford, may I present my dearest friends, Mr. John Boyle and his wife, Bridget?”

  “Charmed, Mr. Boyle, Mrs. Boyle.”

  Bridget attempted a stiff curtsy and John bowed his head slightly to show his respect. An insurmountable pride swelled up inside Rose. Clearly, the couple was uncomfortable in the opulence of Rosecliff, the manor house unlike any place they had ever known in their lives.

  “How was your journey?” Nicholas asked, and Rose cast him a quick glance as he settled onto the chaise, apparently determined to stay.

  I have only a short time alone with them and yet he is monopolizing it. This is rude and uncharacteristic of him.

  Rose wisely said nothing, maintaining a serene smile on her mouth. She had no reason to be upset. Perhaps they would not speak then but they had only just arrived. There would be time enough for everyone to get acquainted.

  “I fear my old bones do not handle the roads well, my lord,” John confessed. “Twas a long one, for certain.”

  “Indeed,” Nicholas said, nodding. “I will have Theodore draw you a bath with salts at once. There is nothing quite like hot to soothe the ache of tired muscles.”

  “That is not necessary, my lord!” John protested quickly. “I – I am certain rest will be all I require.”

  A small smile formed on Nicholas’ lips and he looked at Rose.

  “Tis not difficult to see how birds of a feather do flock together,” he said. “You have the same manners as Miss Rose.”

  “Miss Rose taught us her good manners,” John mumbled, embarrassed by the attention.

  “I have no doubt,” Nicholas chuckled, amused. “In any event, Rosecliff Manor is at your disposal. We are a family here and whatever you require is merely an ask away. The servants are pleased to oblige.”

  “That is very kind, my lord,” John mumbled. “Thank you.”

  Rose could see that the older man did not know where to shift his eye and she caught his stare, beaming reassuringly.

  “I do have but one inquiry for you,” Nicholas said, raising an eyebrow. It had only just crossed his mind.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “How long ago did you make plans to journey to Buford?”

  There was a pointedness to his question and Rose wondered why it was a matter for Nicholas, but she maintained her quiet and allowed John to respond.

  “A fortnight perhaps?” he answered slowly, glancing at his wife for confirmation. “Duchess Buford did say that Rose had requested our presence.”

  “Pardon me?” Rose interjected, her eyes widening. “She wrote you two weeks past and said I sent for you?”

  The Boyles’ faces grew more uncomfortable if possible.

  “What is it, child?” Bridget asked. “Would you have us leave?”

  “Goodness no!” Rose cried, spinning to look at Nicholas, unsure he would ask such a thing. “I have never been happier to see anyone in my life. Now come along, let me speak to Theodore about your quarters. You must rest and when I return from church, we will speak and you will tell me about Dora.”

  “That goat,” John grumbled and Rose giggled, imaging what trouble the mischievous beast was getting into on the Boyle’s farm. A pang hit her heart as she envisioned her tiny horns bucking into Rose’s leg, bleating for food.

  “A goat you say?” Nicholas called out as Rose ushered them from the salon. “I must hear of it also.”

  “She is not a goat. She is the spawn of the devil,” John growled under his breath and Rose smothered a smile. Finding amusement in the situation was almost cruel but she could not deny her affection for Dora.

  Theodore appeared in the doorway, sensing he was needed.

  “Shall I show the Boyles to their apartment, Miss Rose?”

  “Please, Theodore. Thank you.”

  “Mr. Boyle would you care for a heated salt bath?” Nicholas added. “Do not permit them to dissuade you and I imagine they are famished. Arrange for them to take food wherever they please.”

  “Yes, Lord Buford.”

  “I will call on you when I return,” Rose promised as they were shuffled away under Theodore’s watch, their discomfort almost tangible.

  “You needn’t fret; Theodore will tend to them well.”

  Rose pivoted back to look at him, her brows rising.

  “You knew nothing about what your parents were planning?” she asked, mildly confused about what she had learned. Rose could not reconcile why the duke and duchess had kept the Boyles’ arrival a secret.

  “Nothing,” Nicholas agreed, rising from the chaise. “It is quite suspicious, is it not?”

  Rose narrowed her eyes, and she shook her long hair slightly.

  “Suspicious? I would not say so. It is lovely and kind. I could not have asked for a better gift.”

  Instantly she was reminded of the presents she had made for the household.

  I will give them this afternoon following mass.

  “If you believe so,” Nicholas replied, stalking out into the hallway before she could respond.

  Of course, it is lovely and kind. What other reason could they have for sending for the Boyles in secret? They wished it to be a Christmas surprise and that it is.

  The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed the hour of eight and Rose darted toward the stairwell, knowing they needed to leave for church soon. She was reluctant to leave John and Bridget behind, but she knew the travels had worn on them greatly. She dared not ask them to accompany her, despite her silent wish that they would.

  If I asked, they would come but it would be cruel to put them in such a position.

  A small part of her considered also staying behind, but she knew her first commitment was to Harry. She could not repay the duke and duchess’ graciousness and hospitality with a slight.

  No, she determined with resolve. This morrow is for Harry, this afternoon is for John and Bridget. Today, I will spend my day with all the best I adore most in this world. The least I can do is thank God in His house for such blessings.

  The service was exceptionally long and Rose found herself trying not to fidget as she sat pressed between Harry and Nicholas. She wondered if it was the marquess’ nearness which was causing her such heart palpitations or simply the anticipation of returning home. It was more than likely a combination of both.

  Be still, Rose! She chided herself. You are moving around more than the children.

  It was a fact; neither Betsey nor Harry had moved in over an hour, both having fell asleep against one another, their heads supporting the other.

  “Do you suppose that is an option for us?” Nicholas murmured and she covered her mouth with a gloved hand to cover a giggle, focussing her attention on Father Benchman, who appeared to be growing weary of hearing his own tones.

  “I am happy your friends have arrived, Rose,” Nicholas whispered in a voice so low, she thought she had imagined it. She whipped her head to the side, the strings of her bonnet flying behind her golden crown of hair.

  He used my given name. No. I must have heard him wrong.

  She searched his face and saw no signs of guile or disdain. He was truly happy that she had reunited with the only family she had. Yet earlier, he had seemed odd.

  “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 flickeri
ng 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.