The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor_A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  “Is it finally over?” Harry yawned without bothering to cover his mouth.

  “Yes,” Rose chuckled as they filed from the pews and toward their stagecoach.

  “Why does he talk so much?” Betsey grumbled as they piled into the coach. Andrew was patiently waiting to see the household inside. As the duke and duchess finished making their rounds, they, too joined the younger generation in the carriage, along with Andrew and started back toward Rosecliff.

  The children fell silent, knowing they were better seen than heard but Rose also knew they did not have anything to contribute, but complaints about the service and Father Benchman.

  “We will have turkey for dinner tonight,” Duke Buford happily announced, clapping his hands.

  “Turkey. What a barbaric tradition,” the duchess grumbled. “I would much rather we stayed with pig’s head as we always do.”

  “Now, darling, there is no harm in trying new things, is there, Nicholas?”

  “Indeed, father,” he replied, turning his head slightly to smile at Rose. For the first time, she did not blush under his scrutiny, his eyes filling her with something she had believed died with Philip.

  There was a quiet in the coach as Andrew led them safely back toward the sprawling estate but as they neared, the duke released a cry of surprise.

  “My word, what is this?”

  Everyone in the carriage leaned toward the window to see what the duke stared at. A simple carriage sat on the drive, one snorting black horse who needed to be watered but sat unattended.

  “Who in the devil could this be?” the duke muttered. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “On Christmas Day? Heavens no,” the duchess replied, casting her own gaze around the cab. “Nicholas?”

  “Certainly not,” he replied as Andrew opened the door. “Perhaps he is a weary traveller who has lost his way.”

  The household piled from the coach, each one looking at the strange wagon for clues to its owner, but it told them only that the man was not inside.

  Before they could reach the front door, Theodore appeared, his face seeming drawn with apology.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace,” he groveled. “But I could not turn him away.”

  “Who is it?” the duke demanded, pushing his way inside.

  “Remain here,” Nicholas told the others, following his father but before the younger Frampton could cross the threshold, a peal of raucous laughter rang out toward them.

  “What on God’s earth…?” the duchess mumbled, also making her way toward the chuckles of the duke and whoever was there, leaving the children to stare at Rose for instruction.

  “I daresay it does not seem like danger,” she offered, chuckling. “We should not be the only ones missing out on the laughter, particularly not on Christmas.”

  Betsey and Harry agreed, and more chortles met their ears as they crossed through the foyer. The duke clapped heartily on the shoulder of a tall man with greying blonde hair tucked beneath a familiar hat. Rose’s knees grew weak as she recognized it at once, her frame shrinking back to meet the wall.

  “Miss Rose, are you ill?” Harry called, his voice rising with concern. “Nicholas! Nicholas!”

  But Rose could not hear anything but a low rushing which filled her ears endlessly.

  “Miss Rose?”

  A sea of commotion filled her head but as she crumbled to the floor, her eyes fixated upward, she saw the man who had haunted her nightmares for months.

  Captain Daniel Balfour.

  Chapter 16

  His concern for Rose kept him pacing through the hallway outside her bedchambers like a caged tiger and when Dr. Ferner emerged, the man smiled weakly.

  “She merely fainted, Lord Buford,” he assured Nicholas. “Nothing a round of smelling salts did not revive. She has a history of such actions, so she tells me. You needn’t trouble yourself with her condition.”

  He was relieved although his concern still lingered.

  “What is the cause? Have you cured her?” he demanded. “May I see her?”

  “Of course, my lord but I loathe to tell you that ladies of her stature are susceptible to such spells. Sometimes it is the corset, others, their weaker dispositions. They are not called the fairer sex without cause. It is nothing to concern yourself. I will inform the duchess Mrs. Parsons is awake.”

  Nicholas’ mouth became a fine line of denial. If she was prone to such actions, why had he never heard of this before? There was more to what had happened, he was certain but he would never learn the cause if he did not speak to Rose.

  He knocked but it was merely a formality, his head already inside the room before she could grant him permission. She was whiter than overripe dandelions and Nicholas’ heart froze in his chest as Rose stared at him with listless eyes.

  “How are you faring?” he asked, hurrying to her side. “Have you any water?”

  She nodded and gestured toward the night table.

  “Are you able to speak?” he asked, his eyes widening. Had she had an apoplexy?

  “Of course,” she murmured. “I merely fainted foolishly before everyone.”

  “You have done this before, Dr. Ferner says.”

  “Several times after Philip died,” she confessed, darting her eyes downward. “The doctor told me it is brought about by anxiousness. I feared I would be institutionalized if it continued but it ended almost as soon as it began.”

  “Oh, Rose,” he muttered. “We will learn why this happens. Why have you kept it secret? You should have told someone!”

  “It has not happened since I arrived here,” she insisted, noting again his informality of address but making no comment. “I am terribly embarrassed.”

  “You needn’t be embarrassed. We are only concerned for your well-being.”

  She stared at him, misery tainting her eyes.

  “What is that man doing here?” she whispered. Nicholas looked at her in confusion.

  “What man?”

  “Captain Balfour. Why has he come here?”

  “You know him? He is merely a hunting companion of my father’s. He arrived a day early – a simple misunderstanding. Has he upset you in some way? Is that why you fainted?”

  Rose closed her lids and fell deeper into the pillows, her face almost translucent.

  “How long will he be here?” she murmured. “I do not wish to cross paths with him again. I cannot guarantee I will not faint.”

  “How do you know him?” Nicholas demanded. “He – “

  Abruptly he stopped speaking as the realization struck him.

  “He served with your husband,” the marquess muttered. “He is bringing forth terrible memories.”

  “He did more than serve with Philip,” Rose breathed. “He was there when he died and he notified me of his death. I know he is not to be faulted but…my lord, I cannot bear to look at that man.”

  Nicholas swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

  “I will ensure you never set eyes upon him again,” he vowed. “The men will spend their days hunting and their nights in their cups. There will be little occasion for you to see him.”

  Rose smiled weakly and nodded.

  “Thank you, Lord Buford.”

  Their eyes locked but Rose instantly looked away, guilt flooding her face. Gone was the excitement he had captured in her gaze in the church earlier.

  Now she has Philip on her mind once more. Tarnal Balfour! I wish he had never shown his wretched urchin face at Rosecliff.

  Yet Nicholas knew there was little he could do about it. He had been forewarned about the hunting excursion, but had he known its outcome, he would have never agreed to attend.

  How am I to look at Balfour without contempt?

  He thought of the promise he had made to his father and he, too, was suddenly tinged with shame. Merely being at Rose’s bedside while the men waited was already disavowing his promise to the duke.

  “I must go,” he told her. “You rest now and I will call upon you ag
ain.”

  “Oh!” Rose gasped. “The Boyles! Please, Lord Buford, will you send word to them that all is well and I shall call on them soon?”

  “Of course,” he agreed, patting her hand tenderly before he rose. “You must not fret now, all right?”

  She nodded slowly but Nicholas could see his words had no effect; her concern was as vivid as the blue of her irises.

  There was nothing left to say and as he slipped from her apartment, his mind whirling as he moved through the back hallways and toward the west wing and the guest quarters. He would explain to the Boyles what had happened.

  Perhaps they will be more successful at putting her mind at ease where I have failed.

  Tentatively, he knocked and waited until the door swung inward.

  “Lord Buford!” Mrs. Boyle gasped. “I – we were not expecting you, my lord.”

  “I am afraid I come with troubling news,” he replied gravely. “It appears as if Miss Rose has suffered another fainting spell.”

  Bridget’s hand flew to her mouth and she called out for her husband.

  “Is she hurt?” she cried. “Is she – “

  “No, no,” Nicholas assured them, realizing how dramatic his words must have seemed. “My apologies for frightening you. She wished me to deliver the news and explain that she will call on you shortly. She is resting now but…”

  He cleared his throat as the couple stared at him.

  “My lord?”

  “If you were to visit her, perhaps it might lighten her spirits. She seems quite out of sorts and it is Christmas.”

  “You needn’t say more, Lord Buford. We will attend to Mrs. Parsons and the children if you so require. Eloise, their former governess told us about them and we feel as if we know them already. It would be our pleasure to tend to them until Rose recuperates.”

  Nicholas had not thought about Harry’s care until that moment.

  “Nonsense,” he told them assuredly. “Harry does not have lessons today and he can find means to entertain himself. Knowing Miss Rose as I do, I am sure she will be fine in a day.”

  “Indeed,” Bridget agreed. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Happy Christmas to you,” Nicholas offered, turning away from the door and continuing toward the center hall.

  It all comes together now, Nicholas thought, a sardonic smile touching his lips bitterly. The reason for the Boyles’ arrival. Father knew they would keep Rose busy and away from me while the men tended to business. He did not trust me to honor my vow. The question remains, did he know that Daniel Balfour was the man who told Rose her husband had died in battle?

  It seemed unlikely. After all, his father was not a cruel man and Captain Balfour has joined hunts many times in the past. Nicholas did not think highly of the decorated naval captain, but that was not saying much. The marquess could count on a single hand how many men in his father’s circle he found trustworthy.

  Rose seems almost afraid of him, as if he has done something to her but I imagine he did provide her with the worst news of her life. She has a right to be skeptical of his presence here.

  “How is the governess?” Duke Buford asked as he entered the library. A cloud of pipe smoke assaulted his nostrils.

  “She is awake,” Nicholas offered. “But attempting to rest somewhat.”

  “Pity she is prone to such histrionics,” Captain Balfour commented, a smug amusement in his voice. “Women are such fragile creatures.”

  “Rose Parsons is hardly what I would refer to as fragile,” Nicholas retorted. “How many women do you know in her position who have pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps and overcome such tribulations?”

  “I say, Buford, you sound rather smitten with this Betty. She is a bit beneath your standing, is she not?”

  Nicholas could feel his father’s eyes burning into him even without looking.

  You must not engage with Balfour. He enjoys the rise and he will goad you into a fist fight, none of which what father had in mind for this week. You must do father proud so one day, when you run Buford, you can find a way to wipe the needless smirks off the faces of men like Balfour.

  “Nicholas has always been known for his charitable heart,” Duke Buford offered, sensing that a potential for trouble had passed. “He feels more than he should as I always say.”

  “Perhaps he should stop his whoremongering ways,” Balfour leered, and Nicholas turned his head so the man could not read the fire in his eyes.

  “Father, mother did ask that I tend to the table in light of our new arrivals,” Nicholas fibbed. He worried that if he spent one more minute sharing air with Captain Balfour, there would be bloodshed.

  “Again, off to do women’s work,” Balfour howled as Nicholas whirled to leave. He was unsure that he would endure the rest of the week in the same house as the obnoxious naval commander.

  I pray father has enough foresight to put up in separate hunting parties, he thought. If he does not, one of us may not survive the game.

  Chapter 17

  Whether it was the promise Nicholas had made or sheer good fortune, Rose did not set her gaze upon Captain Balfour on Boxing Day. The house became an object of near chaos when the remaining dozen men arrived for their week of hunting, leaving Rose, the Boyles and the children scrambling for tranquility in the attic.

  “We will catch our death up here!” Betsey complained but Harry shook his head, rocking his frail body beneath a wool blanket as he rubbed his mittens together.

  “I would much rather be here than in the midst of the ruckus down below,” he replied.

  “I concur,” John agreed. Rose eyed him apologetically.

  “You are free to join in the hunt, John. Both His Grace and Lord Buford insisted they would enjoy your company.”

  John did not openly snort but Rose knew he longed to.

  “Thank you, no. I have not hunted since I was a boy. I would likely get us all eaten by a bear.”

  “A bear!” Harry and Betsey cried in unison. “Are there many bears in these parts?”

  “Oh, certainly,” John replied earnestly, his bushy brows lowering in dramatic fashion. “Huge bears with long, gnashing teeth and wings!”

  “Wings!” the children chorused. “I never!”

  “Oh yes,” the old man confirmed. “Tis why I never venture into Buford Woods. Those men are much braver than I could ever dare to be.”

  “Oh, hush now, John!” Bridget snapped. “You are filling the children’s’ heads with tall tales and fears.”

  “No, tell us more!” they screeched but John knew he had best not risk upsetting his wife.

  “It is much too painful to discuss any further,” he grumbled, and Rose choked back a giggle.

  “Miss Rose, may we please return to the house? It is too cold here,” Betsey begged. “I cannot feel my toes any longer.”

  “It is only for an afternoon,” Rose sighed. “Going forward, we will have free run of the manor again while they are out in the forest.”

  There was little reason that they could not go back into the main part of the house, but Rose did not wish to see Captain Balfour.

  “We will make do,” Bridget said crisply as if sensing Rose’s discomfort. “Let us start the fireplace and we will play a game.”

  “Have we lessons today?” Harry asked Rose hopefully and she shook her blonde braid.

  “Certainly not,” she replied. “Why should the men have all the fun?”

  But as they settled by the fire, waiting for their arms to warm, Rose wondered if she was not also avoiding Nicholas.

  I have no reason to do such a thing. Nicholas and I are nothing more than friends, she told herself sternly and while she lied to herself, she caught a whiff of his cologne in her nostrils and envisioned the line of his jaw just out of her touch, yearning to be stroked.

  Yet how could she ever act on any feeling she might have when Captain Balfour was nearby? How did the duke know such a man?

  “Rose?” Bridget murmured. “The childr
en want to play Blindman’s Bluff.”

  “Of course, we shall!” Her tone was much louder than she had intended but she bounced to her feet and clapped her hands together, determined to keep the children entertained and her mind off whatever the men were doing below.

  That evening, Rose, the Boyles and the children were instructed to dine with the servants in the kitchen as the duchess entertained the hunting party in the formal dining room.