“My sister will arrive soon, I hope.” Dom cast a gaze around those gathered in the warm, low-ceilinged space. “I’m seeking a Mr. Hawthorne.”
The publican’s eyes ballooned. “Are you now? Doesn’t owe you money, does he? ’Fraid you won’t get it. He and his twin sister are skint ever since their father died.”
Dom chewed on that additional detail. Did anyone in the village have a single good thing to say about Mr. Hawthorne?
“Is he here?” Dom said with more wariness now that he’d learned a bit about the man.
The publican wiped at the bar with a cloth and seemed to ponder his answer far too long. Finally he looked up, a bit remorsefully. “Sorry to say you’ll find him in the village lockup.” He turned his gaze toward a back corner. “Magistrate, we’ve a gentleman who needs directions to the lockup.”
Ten minutes later, Dom had learned even more about Mr. Hawthorne’s nefarious reputation. Apparently, the man had terrible luck at cards, but grand success with the ladies. According to Magistrate Darnley, who whispered behind the shelter of his cupped hand, Hawthorne had swived half the unmarried ladies in the village.
Dom was beginning to form a picture of the man that reminded him a little too much of himself. He swept a hand through his hair. “But he’s been hired for his historical knowledge. He has that at least, doesn’t he?”
“Suppose that’s a talent the whole family possesses,” Darnley said amiably. “Ah, here we are, sir.”
The older man had led him to a structure shaped a bit like a large stone beehive with a few openings to serve as crude windows. From those windows, Dom heard the distinct sound of two people laughing—a man and a woman.
“Good God, he can even attract a woman while he’s in the lockup?”
The elderly magistrate chortled. “In this case, it’s just his kin. Man’s blessed with a sister far more loyal than he deserves.”
“Indeed.” Dom couldn’t imagine either Eve or his younger sister Allie being willingly incarcerated with him if he’d done something as stupid as attempting to start a drunken brawl, which according to the magistrate is what had landed the young man in custody.
“There’s someone coming.” A blond man’s face appeared in one of the openings as his words floated to Dom on the breeze.
“Mr. Hawthorne, I presume,” Dom said to Darnley.
“Aye, the very one,” the magistrate confirmed.
“Have you decided on mercy, Magistrate?” a lady’s voice called out.
Dom swallowed hard. Something about the timbre was familiar. Anticipation flared in his chest, though he wasn’t entirely certain why.
Darnley unlocked a wooden door with aged iron hinges on a flat side of the beehive, and a woman ducked her head as she stepped out into the cool spring evening. Light from the lantern the constable held high gilded her face as she arched her back and stretched her arms toward the early evening sky.
Dom’s mouth went bone dry, and the anticipation in his chest bloomed into something fierce and fiery. Pleasure rushed through his veins at the sight of her.
Miss Librarian. He’d never imagined he’d see her again, and yet she stood before him as if he’d evoked her with his thoughts.
She was too busy thanking the magistrate before the man trundled off to even notice him at first, but her brother did. He’d stumbled out after her and approached Dom, blocking his view of her.
“Well, well, well. Look who it is, Tess.” The young man was nearly as tall as Dom, with darker gold hair than his sister’s and the same green eyes. “Come to apologize, have you?”
When Hawthorne turned back to check his sister’s reaction, Dom got a clear look at her again.
She stood unmoving, her lips parted, eyes wide. “Why...?” she started and then fell silent. “How did you...?”
Dom stepped past her brother. He understood the young man was the one he’d come to find, but she was the only thing that interested him at the moment.
“So this is how I discover your name,” he said softly, only for her ears. “I had to come all the way to Norfolk to do it.” He grinned at her, but she still looked stunned, and not a little annoyed, as she tried to work it all out in her mind.
“Good to meet you, Miss Tess Hawthorne. Again.” Dom held out his hand and dearly hoped she’d take it. The desire for that simple point of contact was intense.
She did. Her warm fingers slid against his, and then they were joined palm to palm. He resisted the urge to stroke his thumb against the back of her hand. He found himself wary to overstep or cause her to withdraw.
“She fired me, you know,” she hiss-whispered to him, clutching his hand with surprising force. “You, sir, got me sacked. Lady Goddard decided she wanted you back instead.”
Anger welled up to dim some of the pleasure of touching her. He clasped her tighter, and she immediately loosened her hold.
