The Boyles had told her that Philip’s death was suspicious, had they not? And Balfour had kept it secret. If not for Lieutenant Walters, she would have never known the truth behind her husband’s death.
I still do not know the truth behind Philip’s death, she thought, her heart racing. I must find out all I can.
Rose pushed herself off the wall and straightened her floucning skirt with shaking hands. She had taken special care to dress for supper that night, knowing that Nicholas would be present but suddenly, she did not care about her appearance.
Stepping from the closet, she raised her head proudly, the tendrils of hair spilling from her high-coifed do tickling the base of her long, pale neck and she glided toward the dining room.
Nicholas did not believe her about Balfour but Harry had been threatened. If Rose was correct, the man sitting at the duke’s side was a murderer, a killer for money.
It was not until Rose’s eyes rested on Balfour did something else occur to her.
It is not a coincidence that he is here. If my theory is correct, Philip owed him money and he has come here to collect; from me.
It was the most uncomfortable Rose had ever been inside Rosecliff. She kept her eyes carefully trained on her dishes and avoided conversation, excruciatingly aware of both Nicholas and Balfour staring at her across the table.
“Miss Rose, you haven’t contributed much to the evening,” Duchess Buford declared, sensing the tension emanating from the governess. “Have you anything to say?”
“No, Your Grace.”
The duchess sighed and lowered her fork, gazing at her niece and nephew with near contempt.
“I daresay, between the three of you, I feel as if I am at a wake,” the duchess exclaimed and all eyes turned to her in shock. It was much too soon to be making any such comments. Yet as Rose studied the lady of the house for the first time in any detail, she realized that the duchess no longer donned black as a symbol of her mourning.
“I would happily eat in the galley!” Betsey announced, a pout puckering her rosebud mouth as she slid her chair back, ready to spring from her seat.
“You will remain in your seat and behave as a member of this household!” Duchess Buford snapped. “Moreover, I will not have doom and gloom enshrouding this table when we so rarely have the duke and his advisors present.”
Betsey muttered incoherently, folding her arms beneath her bosom in an expression of defiance but her aunt was having none of it.
“Unfold your arms, Lady Arlington. Why, in my day, my governess would have strapped me for such insolence!”
“Miss Rose is not Lady Arlington’s governess,” Nicholas commented dryly and Rose shot him a grateful look but as she stared toward him, her eyes fell on the captain’s bemused expression. Immediately, Rose glanced away, her eyes returning to the fine plates before her.
“Given Lord Arlington’s sulking, I daresay she is permitting him to run amok also. Good God, children, you must not permit the past to overshadow your futures. The world is rife with opportunity and beauty. You must seize it and allow it wash away your dismal thoughts.”
Rose was confused by the duchess’ words and as she slowly lifted her head to look at Nicholas, she could see he felt the same.
Why has she abruptly forsaken her grief? Only days ago, she was murmuring about the late duke. Today she is finely dressed in yellow and smiling in a way I have never seen.
“You seem to be in gay spirits, Your Grace. Dare I ask what has brought about your cheer?” Nicholas asked as if reading Rose’s thoughts. The younger woman watched the duchess closely and to her shock, the duchess blushed. As the heat rose from her bare neck up to her plump cheeks, Duchess Buford laughed.
“As I said, Your Grace,” she replied evasively. “The time for mourning has passed. If we permit the past to follow us, we shall never move ahead.”
Once more, Rose turned her head toward Nicholas but his smile froze on his face as he matched his mother’s gaze. As if time had slowed around them, she also followed their jade irises as both rested on one man—Captain Balfour.
Rose gasped aloud, her hand flying to her mouth as she instantly understood the implication of what had happened. The duchess’ desire to forget about the past and forsake the duke’s death, her subtle smiles and passive glances.
“What is it, Miss Rose?” Harry asked, alarm filling his tone. “Are you ill? Are you poisoned?”
“Poisoned?” the duchess laughed. “My goodness, really, Harry. What have you been reading?”
Lowering her hand and forcing a smile, she responded with as much ease as she could muster.
“All is well, Lord Arlington,” she told him, hoping there was confidence in her tone. She needed not have the children upset by what she had learned but it was clear from Nicholas’ expression that he had come to the same conclusion about his mother’s newfound contentment; the Duchess of Buford was being courted by Captain Daniel Balfour.
Chapter 28
It was too much for Nicholas to accept and he shook his head in disbelief.
I imagined whatever look I thought I saw between mother and Balfour. He is too low in standing. She would never consider him, especially not when father has only just died.
Yet Nicholas could not deny the stricken expression on Rose’s face, nor the almost palpable gaze of affection between his mother and the captain to confirm what he feared.
She does not care about standing. She has encouraged me to marry anyone I choose and she already seems lovestruck by this shady, possibly dangerous man. How could this have happened, directly beneath my nose? Was this part of his scheme?
He needed to put a stop to whatever was happening before it was too late. His mother needed to understand that Captain Balfour was not the man she believed him to be.
“Children, you may take your supper in the kitchen,” he said abruptly, tossing his fork onto his plate with a derisive clang.
“They will do no such thing!” Duchess Buford snapped, her eyes flashing with annoyance.
“I say they will!” Nicholas retorted, his ears growing hot at being contradicted. “What I have to say is not suitable for them to hear.”
“Then you may say it when they have retired for the night,” Duchess Buford insisted. “This is a family supper and I will not have it ended abruptly when we have them so sparingly.”
“That will change, mother. For now, I insist that they go.”
“You may be the duke but I remain the head of this household…Your Grace,” the duchess replied and it was clear the matter was closed.
Mother and son stared at one another, a silent battle of the wills and Nicholas steeled his temper, knowing it would benefit no one if he lost control of himself, least of all the children.
“I think it is best that they stay also,” Rose offered and he met her eyes. What he read in their depth filled him with concern. She was silently pleading with him not to protest but he did not know why. Surely, she of all people would like the captain banished from the house.
“Very well,” Nicholas announced. He would wait until after the children retired before addressing the captain and his mother. Whether he had proof about Balfour’s misdeeds or not, the captain had overstayed his welcome in several ways.
He paced about the study, waiting for word.
It had taken every ounce of self-control to keep his wits together at supper, his innards rising to dangerous heat levels as he glared daggers at the captain and his mother.
They excused themselves before Nicholas was able to speak with them in private and when he searched for them later, neither was available for conversation. Whether it was deliberate or they had stolen away for a tryst in the courtyard, Nicholas could not know for certain but he would not permit them to get away with what was happening.
Not in my father’s home, so soon following his death.
Nicholas knew what his mother would say—that she was a woman deserving of happiness and that the wretched captain was providing
her with comfort through a trying time.
I will not accept this, he thought firmly. It is a blatant slap in my father’s face. What has he done to my mother to make her forget that her royal husband has only just perished?
The hour was late and he hoped that Rose was still awake but he feared that she had fallen asleep and he needed to ensure the household had retired before he spoke with her.
There was something occurring that he could not see and it troubled him greatly. He felt as if Rose was the only one he could trust in those moments.
She spends more time about the manor house. If anyone was to understand the dynamic between the captain and my mother, it will be Rose.
A terrible sense of guilt consumed him as he realized how little he had minded his home.
Tis a small wonder that something like this has occurred. I have done poorly as duke. My father would never have permitted such a catastrophe to endure.
A soft knock at the study door stalled his silent lamenting and Nicholas called out for Rose to enter.
Cautiously, the door opened and she eyed him from the doorway.
“Your Grace? You asked to see me?”
“Come in, Miss Rose. We have matters to discuss.”
She slid inside, her eyes wide with concern and Nicholas could see that she had not been asleep. In fact, she still wore her daytime clothes, despite it nearing midnight. For a brief moment, Nicholas was taken aback by her beauty in the middle of the night.
“You are dressed,” he commented. “Have you somewhere to be?”
She visibly swallowed as if there was a lump in her throat and she shook her blonde hair, loose and flowing about her shoulders.
Has she lost weight? Her eyes seem darker and enshrouded in shadows.
More concern flooded him and Nicholas steeled himself against the mounting distress he was feeling. If she was ill atop all else…
“No, Your Grace,” she replied, approaching slowly. “I merely dressed when Theodore sent for me.”
The duke nodded and gestured for the governess to be seated.
“What do you make of what has happened?” he demanded without preamble. “Were you aware of the relationship between my mother and Captain Balfour.”
“No, Your Grace!”
There was sincerity in her words and Nicholas believed her, his shoulders sagging slightly as he realized that she was just as aghast as he.
“He cannot stay,” he murmured, rising from his chair to pace about the study. “He must go.”
“If you will permit me to say, Your Grace, I do not believe that is what Her Grace desires.”
“My mother is clearly not using her senses to make decisions!” Nicholas growled, whirling to face Rose.
She nodded quickly and darted her eyes downward.
“What has happened in this estate while I have tended to Buford?” he insisted, sensing that Rose was deliberately withholding information. “Why was I not made aware of this atrocity?”
“I was not aware of it until this evening, Your Grace,” Rose whispered, staring at her hand as they wrung nervously. “If I had…”
She trailed off and Nicholas moved around the desk to study her face more closely.
“Would you have told me, had you known?”
Rose lifted her fine face and met his fire-lit green eyes.
“I believe so, yes,” she replied with some evasiveness. The answer was not ringing with the conviction that Nicholas had hoped.
“What has changed?” he asked gruffly, his eyes boring into hers. “Why do I feel as if there are a web of secrets forming in the shadows?”
Shock filled Rose’s face and she shook her head vehemently.
“No, Your Grace!” she gasped, rising in defense. “I would never withhold such a thing from you. I am as awed as you by the revelation that the duchess and Captain Balfour are…”
She seemed unable to finish her thought and Nicholas was grateful for it. He was uncertain he could hear the words aloud without being sick to his gut.
Nicholas drew closer to her and Rose glanced downward, his nearness causing her to tense with nervousness.
“Rose,” he murmured softly. “Is there anything else of which I should be aware?”
Nicholas could see that something else was longing to spill from her mouth but she shook her head quickly.
“Please, look at me,” he said tenderly and she raised her head reluctantly, their eyes locking. Slowly, he reached out to stroke her cheek with long fingers.
“You made me a vow when my father died,” he said hoarsely, his words escaping from his lips in short rasps. “You promised to help me through this.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she whispered. There was a combination of yearning and shame on her delicate features, as if she battled with some internal conflict of which he was unaware.
“I am making the same pledge to you,” the duke purred softly. “I am your ally, Rose, regardless of what comes. There is nothing you cannot tell me. We must be strong together.”
His fingertips continued to explore the fine lines of her face. She quivered slightly beneath his touch, but she did not resist as his head lowered, their eyes still fixated on each other. Sighing, she slowly closed her eyes and parted her lips, allowing for their mouths to touch as they had meant to do for months.
She moaned quietly, her hands reaching up to embrace his face and they pressed to one another sweetly, inhaling the warmth of the kiss.
Why have I waited so long to do this? Nicholas asked himself, his hands catching a strand of her honey hair.
It was Rose who broke away first, red staining her fair cheeks as she looked for somewhere to cast her eyes.
“Rose, I can see that you are troubled,” Nicholas implored her, trying to catch her gaze again but she pulled out of his embrace gently. “What do you know?”
“I must return to my chambers, Your Grace,” she breathed, her voice catching as she spoke. She spun to rush away but Nicholas caught her arm as she did, whirling her back toward him.
“Your Grace!”
“Say it one time,” he murmured, tilting her chin toward him. A slow, timid smile formed and she blushed more furiously as she realized what he wanted her to say.
“Please?”
“Good night…Nicholas.”
She fled the study, leaving him to stare after her, the feel of her lips still fresh against his.
Rose remained the glimmer of light at the end of the dark, confusing tunnel which had become his life.
Chapter 29
The days grew warmer and soon, the buds of spring littered the vast array of flora about the estate. Birds made their debuts, tweeting playfully throughout the trees and the elusive woodland creatures which had remained hidden through the unnaturally long winter began to rear their heads.
The sunshine should have brought along with it good tidings but Rose could not escape the umbra which chased her, no matter where she ventured inside Rosecliff.
Captain Balfour and the duchess no longer kept their affair a secret, flagrantly boasting their affections for one another as if they were schoolchildren without control.
“Miss Rose will my aunt marry Captain Balfour?” Harry choked one May afternoon as the sun rose high in the sky, toasting them inside the schoolroom. Rose wondered how long he had been deigning to ask the dreaded question which seemed to be poison upon his lips. It seemed that they did fewer lessons and more speculating in the wake of Harry’s confession months earlier.
For Rose’s part, she listened, hoping to learn what she could about the captain, but Harry was just a boy and could not possibly fathom the gravity of what his knowledge meant to the governess.
Or to Nicholas.
Rose desperately wanted to tell the duke all that she knew but she had been sworn to secrecy by her young charge and she was not certain that Harry’s observations could be trusted.
There were so many questions for which she did not have answers. Suspicions were aplenty but proof was
another matter altogether.
I am just a governess. I cannot dare to believe that I can outwit someone as cunning as the captain appears to be. I require collaboration before I approach Nicholas. He has far too much with which to worry himself. I cannot add to his concerns with wild tales from the mouth of a boy and the mind of a grieving widow.
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