The memory still burned, a festering wound that had never quite healed. She had no idea what had become of him, but part of her hoped he was rotting in hell for what he had done to her.
She clenched her fists as she neared Sally, determined to shake the memory of Lord Hawthorne from her mind. He was a part of her past—one she would never forgive—but she refused to let him poison her present.
Suddenly, unbidden images of Dominic’s face filled her mind—his mischievous smile, his rich laugh, and, most vividly, that flirtatious wink that had always made her insides tremble. She had never been able to forget the way his eyes sparkled, aconstant twinkle that had always betrayed his playful nature. That twinkle was unmistakable, as was the way he carried himself, with a confidence and charm that could hardly be hidden.
So much like…
Her heart pounded in confusion as she spun around, searching for the clergyman. There he was, standing with a small group of men near the far wall, listening intently to their conversation. Just then, his smile broadened, and he threw his head back in laughter, the sound rich and familiar.
Shivers raced up her spine, her skin tingling as though it were on fire. There was no mistaking it now. Her confusion melted away, replaced by a startling realization that shook her to her core.Lord Hawthorne in the flesh!
But why on earth was he here, dressed as a man of God? What was Dominic Lawrence, Marquess of Hawthorne, doing in this small town, hiding behind a false identity?
*
Tabitha paced thelength of her bedroom, her mind swirling with uncertainty. She clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to calm the storm of emotions brewing inside her. Aunt Clara had called last night’s party a success, but to Tabitha, it had been anything but. What was supposed to be a pleasant evening had turned into a confusing puzzle she couldn’t shake.
Was Mr. Woodland really Dominic Lawrence, the Marquess of Hawthorne? Or was her mind playing tricks on her? She replayed in her mind every interaction with the man. She had watched him closely throughout the evening, looking for the telltale signs—the familiar expressions, the subtle mannerisms. But within an hour, he’d made his polite excuses and left, leaving her no closer to confirmation.
She hadn’t dared mention her suspicions to Sally. Her maid had been through enough, and Tabitha knew the mere idea of Lord Hawthorne being nearby would send Sally into a spiral of fear. Their shared history was too dark, too painful. After what had happened with Lord Elliot, the mere thought of another powerful man in their lives felt like a shadow creeping back in. Sally, always on edge, would not react well if she believed Dominic was the clergyman.
Tabitha’s own past weighed heavily on her, memories of Lord Elliot seeping in like poison she couldn’t expel. Both she and Sally had suffered under his cruelty when they worked for him, enduring the worst kind of abuse. Tabitha had lost count of the times she had wished for his death, her hands shaking with the urge to end him herself. When the news of his demise had finally reached her, she had felt no sorrow—only a grim satisfaction that the world was rid of one more monster.
She hadn’t killed Lord Elliot with her own hands, but in her heart, she had wished it every day. Now, standing in the silence of her room, the past felt like a dark cloud over her. And if Dominic Lawrence—Lord Hawthorne—truly was here disguised as Mr. Woodland, then she had to ask herself why. What was his purpose? And most importantly, could she trust him—or would he prove to be another dangerous man she would have to guard herself against?
Did that make her a sinner? If so, then she would certainly go straight to hell.
Tabitha moved to the window and flung open the curtains. The bright morning sunlight spilled into the room, beckoning her with the promise of a beautiful day. She longed to take Sally and escape for a peaceful walk through the parks, or even down by the beach, where the salty breeze might clear her troubled mind. But the thought of running into Lord Hawthorne kept her trapped. The turmoil within her was too great, and she fearedwhat might spill from her lips if they crossed paths again. She needed answers, not another confusing confrontation.
If the clergyman was indeed Dominic, what could possibly drive him to disguise himself this way? She knew the man well enough to know he wasn’t the type to suddenly devote himself to God and a quiet life of service. No, something was off. If Nic was hiding behind the mask of a clergyman, there had to be a reason—a dangerous reason. And blast it all, she needed to find out what it was.
Feeling the room closing in on her, Tabitha turned from the window, her restlessness growing. The walls seemed to inch closer, suffocating her with every second she remained. She needed to get out, needed air, needed to escape the confusion swirling inside her. If she stayed in this room any longer, she feared she might scream.
Without hesitation, she moved toward the door, desperate for space and clarity. Downstairs, in the sitting room, she found Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles quietly enjoying their tea. The peaceful scene was a stark contrast to the storm raging within her. As she stepped into the room, both women looked up and smiled warmly at her, their faces gentle and welcoming.
“Good morning, dear,” Aunt Clara greeted her. “You’re up early.”
“How could I not be?” Tabitha moved to them and sat next to her aunt on the sofa. “Most of my life I’ve been a maid and had to get up before anyone in the household.”
Aunt Clara tapped her hand on Tabitha’s knee. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and don’t you let anyone tell you differently.”
“I won’t. But besides that, I needed a change of scenery,” Tabitha replied, her tone light despite the weight pressing on her. Perhaps tea and a conversation with the women could offer some distraction, if not answers.
She smiled lovingly at her relative, suddenly wishing she could go back in time to when she was a little girl. There was some resemblance between her aunt and her mother. Tabitha supposed if her mother had lived to be as old as Clara, she would look the same.
“Do you have any plans with Sally today?” Aunt Clara sipped her tea.
“Nothing at all. What could we have planned when we don’t know what North Devon holds for us to see?”
“Oh, my dear.” Aunt Clara gasped and met her companion’s stare. “We need to find someone to take our Tabitha and Sally on a sightseeing tour. Do you not agree?”
“Most assuredly.” Mrs. Stiles nodded so fast, her cap bounced on her head.
“Oh, I think I know just the person.” Aunt Clara placed her hand on her chest, sighed, and looked back at Tabitha. “I noticed last night that Mr. Jacobs was paying you extra attention. I’m sure he’d love to take you around town.”
Tabitha opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Stiles cut in.
“Oh, but Clara, dear…did you not see he has injured his leg? He was leaning on a crutch last night. I don’t think he would be the right man to escort our dear Tabitha around.”
