The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor_A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  “Betsey, we mustn’t incense Captain Balfour,” Harry choked. “You know of what he is capable!”

  “Harry is correct. You will remain here and I will find Duke Buford.”

  She noticed Betsey staring at her skeptically.

  “After I have made myself presentable,” Rose sighed. “Betsey, you must swear to stay with your brother. I cannot be accountable for you and Harry in the thick of this.”

  Betsey shifted her eyes away and Rose did not believe her when the girl vowed to remain but she had much more with which to concern herself in that moment.

  Balfour cannot be everywhere at once, she realized. Surely his focus will be on the duchess and keeping Nicholas out of his way. He will not be thinking of the children nor myself.

  “God speed, Miss Rose,” Betsey called to her as she ventured toward the door, inhaling deeply. “Please, return to us.”

  “Please!” Harry agreed and Rose knew she could not put herself in harm’s way, not when the children relied on her so desperately.

  “You needn’t worry,” she told them. “I will not leave you.”

  Rose imagined she had the same expression upon her face when Nicholas had told her the same hours earlier; a look of sheer disbelief.

  Never had Rose seen so many people in one place, a flock of handsomely dressed men and liveried servants. Everywhere her eyes fell seemed alight with lace and jewels, a sparkling array of wine-filled goblets and dazzling candlelight.

  Every chandelier in the grand hall was lit, shadows dancing mischievously against the high walls. Even the portraits seemed to come alive, but Rose maintained her position behind the grandfather clock in the foyer, partially hidden as she sought the duke.

  The duchess glided through the ballroom, her smile ablaze with happiness. The beam filled Rose with sickness. She was still unsure if she had played a role in all that had happened.

  She stopped to speak with the guests, her laughter reaching Rose’s ears as the governess stayed rooted behind the clock, wondering where Nicholas had gone.

  Choosing a simple but elegant blue and white gown, Rose knew that she was not apt to make a spectacle of herself, despite having hastily tamed her mass of tangled blonde tresses up to expose her long, lovely neck. Should anyone notice her, they were not likely to glance at her a second time and for a long while, she maintained her spot almost comfortably.

  It took her several moments to realize that the guest of honor was not the only one missing from the party; Captain Balfour was also nowhere to be seen.

  “Miss Rose?”

  She gasped and jumped, whirling to see Theodore peering at her as if he had seen a ghost.

  “Theodore,” she smiled, her gloved hand pausing over her heart.

  “I was told you had been sent away for treatment,” the servant choked. “Does the duke know you have returned? How do you fare?”

  “I am very well,” Rose fibbed. “I would not miss the duke’s birthday. Where is he?”

  Theodore’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed.

  “I have not seen him,” the butler replied slowly as if he had just realized it.

  “I must find him, Theodore,” Rose told him urgently. “It is dire.”

  The sound of a bell emanating through the main floor caused them both to turn their heads and Rose’s heart quickened as she watched Captain Balfour descend the center staircase.

  “Welcome all!” he boomed as the duchess hurried to join him, her eyes shining with affection. “I regret to inform you that Duke Buford has taken ill and will be unable to join us for his own birthday celebration.”

  Rose gasped and stepped forward as if to challenge the man but Theodore grabbed her arm firmly. She turned her head to look at the old man who shook his head.

  “You must not do anything,” he whispered and Rose knew she had an ally in the ancient servant. A murmur of commiserating noises flowed through the house, but Balfour was not finished with his announcement.

  “I realize it is a grand disappointment, but I can assure you, Duchess Buford and I have a wonderful night planned for you, filled with gracious guests, delectable food and…” He chuckled, his slate eyes glittering in a way which made Rose tremble. “…shall we say, surprises after all? If you will follow, let us proceed with the evening!”

  The guests tittered appropriately and the orchestra resumed its play as the captain continued through the hall, the duchess on his arm.

  “Is it true?” Rose breathed at Theodore as they moved with the others far into the ballroom. Theodore did not need answer for at the front of the room stood an altar, Father Benchman solemnly present as the captain led the duchess forward.

  A swell of mutters erupted through the party as the noblemen realized what they were witnessing.

  “Good God!” Rose choked. “What has he done with the duke?”

  “I do not know, Miss Rose,” Theodore mumbled, looking uncomfortably around as if hoping to locate his rightful master but they both were aware that Nicholas was nowhere in sight. All around her, the questions and scrutiny reached a din.

  “They are marrying? Her husband only just died!”

  “He is beneath her in standing!”

  “This is disgraceful! What has happened to the House Buford?”

  Yet the secretly betrothed couple seemed oblivious to the bitter whispers in their midst as they stood before the clergyman, smiling at one another as if no one else existed.

  “Please, be silent so we may proceed,” Father Benchman intoned and reluctantly, the crowd stilled as they craned their necks to see the spectacle before them.

  “Dearly beloved – “

  “No!” Rose cried, rushing forward before Theodore could stop her. “You cannot do this, Your Grace!”

  Again, a litany of voices erupted into confused cries as the guests parted way to allow Rose to make her way toward the couple but suddenly, her legs had become leaden weights.

  “Miss Rose!” Duchess Buford gasped, her green eyes widening in shock. “You have returned!”

  “I –” As all eyes focussed on her, their noble faces a sea of leers and smirks, Rose wished the floor would open and swallow her whole.

  “Miss Rose,” Balfour growled, his eyes flashing although he maintained the half-smile about his smug mouth. “You have been unwell. You should be resting.”

  “Unwell?” Rose cried, forcing her legs forward. “Do you not mean poisoned?”

  A gasp of shock flooded the room and the duchess’ face melted into a scowl.

  “Miss Rose, you are acting in quite an uncouth manner. Please, return to your apartment. I will see to you after the ceremony.”

  “No, Your Grace. I cannot leave here until you are informed as to who this man is!”

  “Miss Rose, this is highly unusual. If not for your weakened state, I would have you condemned to the stockades for such insolence!”

  The fury in the duchess’ face was evident and Rose knew she should stand down but she dared not. If Nicholas had not been successful in stopping the captain, she was the only one who remained.

  “My apologies, Your Grace,” Rose choked, determined to forge forth. “But I cannot permit this to happen.”

  “Permit this?” Balfour scoffed. “You are a governess, Mrs. Parsons. You have no standing to dictate anything to Duchess Buford. Theodore, escort Miss Rose back to her quarters.”

  Theodore murmured something she could not hear as he reached for her arm but she pulled away.

  “No!” she cried. “I will not go! Your Grace, I have it on good authority that Captain Balfour is responsible for the late duke’s demise as well as my own husband!”

  The ruckus was deafening as the men and women squawked amongst themselves, eyeing the captain with wary eyes.

  “Silence!” Balfour roared, slamming his cane against the floor for affect. “A mass of sheep you are! Listening to the words of a melancholic woman!”

  The crowd quieted, eager to absorb more of the drama which threatened to unfold.r />
  “That is correct. Mrs. Parsons was nearly institutionalized before she came to Rosecliff, were you not aware?”

  “That is untrue!” Rose cried. “I –”

  “Do you deny that you suffered fainting spells after your husband’s death at sea?”

  “He did not die at sea!” Rose decried. “He was killed in precisely the same manner as the 5th Duke of Buford!”

  She looked about and saw that some of the men were nodding slowly while some did not seem convinced.

  They believe me, she realized, her heart racing. I must keep him speaking. If he marries Duchess Buford, he will never be stopped. He will be untouchable, just as he has planned all along!

  “Miss Rose!” the duchess yelled, her face a mask of devastation. “My late husband’s death was an accident, a terrible, tragic accident! Please, do not ruin the happiness which the captain and I have found together!”

  “Please, Your Grace,” Rose begged. “You must listen to me. He is not the man he would have you believe. He is a – “

  Before she could finish her thought, Balfour rushed toward her, seizing her arm as he tried to drag her from the ballroom.

  “You will see Bedlam yet!” he promised as Rose struggled to free herself from his grasp.

  “Unhand her, Balfour!”

  All heads turned as Nicholas appeared on the balcony, his face gritty with dirt. At his side, his young cousins stood, filthy and determined as they stared down at him. Rose felt a deep sense of relief as she pulled away, sinking back into the crowd away from the captain’s deadly grip.

  “Your Grace!” Balfour breathed, his voice barely audible. “You are feeling better.”

  “Better?” Nicholas rasped. “Better than how you left me to perish in the pond, you mean?”

  A roar of indignation rose through the room and Rose glanced at the duchess whose face had turned a ghastly shade of white by the accusation.

  “I haven’t a clue what you mean!” the captain denied, inching toward the doorway but Theodore stood to block his path in a manner which Rose had never seen of the feeble servant. He seemed a formidable giant, his shoulders back as he loomed above the captain.

  “You haven’t?” Nicholas laughed but there was no mirth in his tone. “Perhaps my cousins will enlighten you as they were the ones who found me, floating away to my death.”

  The Arlingtons nodded in concession.

  “Daniel?” the duchess gasped. “Is this true?”

  “Of course not!” Balfour screamed. “He is as mad as his lover! They have been ill and – “

  “We were never ill!” Rose cried out. “Look at our arms! You had us poisoned with laudanum!”

  “Nonsense!”

  Yet there was much less conviction in his words as he gazed about, his eyes resting on Rose with fury.

  “You are a murderer, a bamboozler!” Nicholas yelled, spinning to rush toward the stairs, the cousins in tow.

  “You murdered my husband and you murdered the late Duke of Buford,” Rose sighed. “Why? Why did you do it, Balfour?”

  A combination of mania and rage lit the captain’s eyes.

  “If your husband had paid me my due, none of this would have happened!” he howled. “But I did not murder him! It was a fight gone awry. He merely fell in a tussle and hit his head.”

  “Yet you still needed to get paid,” Rose murmured, tears filling her eyes as she imagined how horrific were Philip’s last, dishonorable moments.

  “Dead men cannot pay,” Balfour agreed, almost spitting the words. “I had hoped you would clear his debt but it was obvious that you hadn’t two pence to rub between you.”

  “Why did you follow me here?” Rose moaned. “Why could you not walk away?”

  It was not a question which required an answer; greed and pride had driven Balfour. Rose had only been a vessel for him to achieve what he desperately wanted—notoriety.

  “You killed my father.”

  Nicholas appeared between them, his jaw clenched as he blocked the captain from further looking upon Rose’s crestfallen face.

  “I did not!” Balfour insisted but even as she peeked over the duke’s broad shoulder, Rose could see he lied.

  “You did and for that you will hang.”

  “You forget, Your Grace,” Balfour replied slyly, looking about until his eyes fell upon Peter Alderson who tried to fall away into nothingness. “I have witnesses who were with me that fateful night. Twas nothing more than a grievous accident.”

  “Quite a coincidence,” Rose mumbled but Nicholas seemed prepared for his denial.

  “Mr. Peter Alderson, Lord Joseph Preston, step forward,” Nicholas growled, his eyes scanning the crowd for the men he commanded.

  Again, the mob shifted as the secretary and baron stepped forth to pledge whatever knowledge they had of that dreadful eve.

  “Speak, Lord Preston,” Nicholas ordered. “Tell us what you have to say of that excursion.”

  The mild-mannered lord peered down but Nicholas’ firm stare did not falter and he was forced to say what needed to be said.

  “I only said, Your Grace, that Mr. Alderson and I lost track of Captain Balfour in the storm. I did not imply – “

  “You need not imply anything,” Nicholas assured him. “His record has spoken for itself.”

  “Murderer!” someone cried and all around her, Rose saw as fingers began to wag in Balfour’s direction. “Killer!”

  A low wail filled the air and Rose watched as Duchess Buford sank to her knees, the horrific reality of what she had almost done shocking her. Rose rushed to her side as her peers backed away, wrapping an arm about her comfortingly.

  “You will be detained, tried and hanged for this, Balfour,” Nicholas growled, snatching the captain by the scruff of his shirt as the house guards moved inward to whisk him away.

  As if time had slowed, Balfour twirled out of their grasp, reaching into his sheath to unfetter his sword.

  “Nicholas!” the duchess and Rose screamed in unison but as the single word flew from their mouths, the duke had already sidestepped the vengeful captain, disarming him in a swift movement.

  Rose exhaled, her hand covering her mouth as she stifled a sob.

  “Put him in the barracks, locked in a stockade,” Nicholas instructed as Balfour released a mad howl.

  “You have not seen the last of me, Buford!” he cried but his voice carried away as he was dragged from the hall, leaving the household to stand in galvanized silence.

  As if someone had restarted the tick of the clock, all sprung into action. Betsey and Harry rushed toward their aunt and the governess, flinging themselves into the arms of the older women, tears streaking their cheeks.

  Rose barely managed to untangle herself from the pile of arms and legs as Nicholas reached for her, pulling her into his arms.

  “What happened?” she whispered, studying his face with concern. “What did he do to you?”

  A streak of dried blood covered the left side of his handsome face and Rose longed to touch him but she was painfully aware of all eyes which rested upon them.

  “He caught me unaware when I was returning from speaking with Peter Alderson,” Nicholas explained, his own face searching hers as if assuring himself that she was unharmed. “If Betsey and Harry had not found me when they did…”

  Rose cast the cousins a glance over her shoulder. They continued to console Duchess Buford, moving her toward the staircase toward her chambers.

  “You must remind me to thank them,” Rose murmured as she watched them disappear. She would never have believed she would be grateful that the children had blatantly disobeyed her instructions.

  “I believe that mere words are much more in order for those two,” Nicholas replied, reaching forward to caress her face.

  “Your Grace…” Rose murmured. “After all you have learned about my late husband and how much darkness I have caused, how can you look at me with such kind eyes?”

  His fingers slid into her honey-sp
un hair and Rose felt her heart quicken.

  “You have brought nothing but brightness and joy to this household, even in the bleakest moments, my sweet Rose,” he told her huskily and Rose blushed furiously, knowing that they would be the talk of every noble conversation. “Do not look away.”

  “They stare at us, Your Grace,” she breathed. “It is inappropriate – “

  “Imagine how they will look at us when I begin properly courting you,” he replied, a small smile on his full lips.