Either way, she brushed the thought aside. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it. Whatever strange feeling he stirred in her, she had no choice but to treat Mr. Woodland kindly and with respect. After all, everyone else seemed to approve of him, and for now, that was enough.
“You flatter me too much, Mr. Woodland. I’ve never had singing lessons. Well, not professionally, that is. My mother is the one who taught me how to sing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Indeed? Well, then you truly have a talent beyond compare.”
Heat consumed her face. She really hated it when people made her blush. “Thank you, again. I do recall that my mother had the perfect singing voice.”
The clergyman placed another sweetmeat on his plate. “I would enjoy hearing about your mother, Miss Tabitha. She sounds like a true angel.”
Tabitha smiled. “She was indeed. She died when I was in my sixteenth year.” She released a heavy sigh. “I miss her so much.”
“Forgive me if I brought back bad memories for you. That was not my intention.”
“I know.” She shook her head. “I don’t have any bad memories of my mother, only pleasant ones. I just wish she hadn’t died so young.”
“I do understand what you’re feeling. Death is not something anybody wishes on people, yet it’s a part of life. Unfortunately, we all must experience the pain of losing someone sooner or later.”
“Yes, we must. How else would we know happiness if we have never felt sorrow?”
Suddenly, the color of his eyes softened—if that were at all possible—and he stroked his hand over his hairy chin. Another chill swept through her, and she wanted to scream with frustration. Why did she act this way?
“Such a profound thing to say, Miss Tabitha, but you are correct.” He cocked his head. “Perhaps you would like to give a sermon one of these Sundays about that topic?”
She laughed loudly then quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. Shaking her head, she lowered her hand. “Oh, Mr. Woodland. You are very humorous. There’s no way I’m qualified to give sermons. I’ll leave that in your capable hands.” She held up her palm. “As you can see, these hands are not saintly.”
When he grasped her hand gently, her heart nearly stopped. Why had he touched her so personally? Yet his eyes lightenedwith a familiarity that she didn’t understand, and when he brushed his thumb across her palm, her heartbeat quickened. The feeling was quite disturbing.
“Forgive me for saying, Miss Tabitha, but they look perfect to me.”
Oh heavens!Why did he say that? And for goodness’ sake, why did her heart continue to speed up? This was not good.
“Uh, thank you, Mr. Woodland.” Slowly, she slid her hand away from his touch. “But I still don’t think your parish would agree to having someone likemeteach them about God.”
“And why not? Are we not all God’s children?”
She suppressed a growl of frustration. Quickly, she reasoned that he was just making small talk and that was the reason he kept pressing the issue. She gave him her best smile, even if it was forced. “Indeed we are, but some of us are more qualified for giving sermons than others.”
His chest shook with a light chuckle and his eyes sparkled. As before, the feeling of familiarity came over her. Did she know him? She must. Yet she didn’t have any opportunities in her life to mingle with ministers.
“Mr. Woodland, it has been very nice talking with you, but I should go see how my aunt is doing.”
“Of course you should. Perhaps I shall see you again on Sunday?”
Tabitha hesitated, unsure how to respond. She didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t set foot in a church since shortly after her mother passed away. The grief had been too raw, the idea of sitting through a service unbearable. And besides, she feared that confessing this to Mr. Woodland might invite an impromptu sermon, one she wasn’t prepared to hear.
Although she wanted to avoid the topic, she was certain that Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles would likely insist she accompany them to church soon enough. She could already imagine theirgentle prodding and well-meaning insistence. It was only a matter of time before she found herself sitting in a pew, whether she liked it or not.
“I’m sure I’ll be there.”
“Marvelous. Then I bid you goodbye until Sunday. I’m already looking forward to hearing you sing.” He winked.
He did it again!Why did he keep winking? And why did she feel as if she knew him?
Without another word, Tabitha turned and made her way toward Sally, who stood quietly in the corner of the room, watching the guests with the practiced attention of a servant ready to assist. As she walked, Tabitha’s mind wandered, puzzling over the strange encounter with Mr. Woodland. She couldn’t recall any other man ever winking at her—not in such a way, at least.
Well, except for the man she wished she could remove from her mind—Lord Hawthorne. The mere thought of his name sent a wave of anger coursing through her. That insufferable man! He had treated her like she was special, a princess, even—only to turn around and accuse her of something so vile, so unforgivable.
Murder.
