Tabitha shook her head. “Mr. Jacobs is a very nice man, but I must agree with Mrs. Stiles.”
“Then that won’t do at all.” Aunt Clara huffed and folded her hands in her lap. “Bertha, dear? Who else do we know who could escort our girls around?”
Mrs. Stiles tapped a finger to her chin as she stared at the tea service on the table in front of them. Her forehead creased as her frown deepened.
Tabitha hurried and spoke before the companion could come up with another name. “Actually, I don’t believe Sally and I needto have an escort. We both love to walk, and we could wander through the town—”
“I have it!” Mrs. Stiles interrupted. Her face beamed with excitement as a smile stretched across her face. “What about Mr. Woodland? He would be a splendid tour guide. He’s only been here less than a year, but he walks everywhere, and he knows the town well.”
Tabitha’s thoughts came to a sudden halt. Mr. Woodland had lived in North Devon for less than a year? That couldn’t be right, especially when she’d met Lord Hawthorne in York approximately six months ago. So when Bertha saidless than a year, what were the exact months?
Aunt Clara nodded, her ringlets shaking. “Yes, Bertha. That’s the perfect choice.” She looked back at Tabitha. “He’s such a wonderful man, and last night when he sang to me…” She placed her hand on her bosom and sighed. “What a lovely voice he has. Indeed, I could have listened to the two of you all night.”
“Actually”—Mrs. Stiles reached across the table and touched Aunt Clara’s arm—“the way it looked to me was that he was singing to our Tabitha.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Tabitha wanted to groan aloud, but refrained for now. “I must admit, Mr. Woodland is a very nice man, and yes, he does have a pleasant singing voice, but Sally and I don’t need an escort. I assure you, we shall be fine by ourselves.”
“Nonsense.” Aunt Clara flipped her hand in the air. “You will need someone who can assist you up and down the rocky slopes near the beach. I wouldn’t feel right if you tried to climb those hills without a man present. It’s very easy to slip and fall.”
“Oh, Aunt Clara…really.” Tabitha shook her head. “Must I keep reminding you, I’m not a pampered, genteel lady who can’t climb up and down? I’m used to hard labor, which means, I’m stronger than you think.”
“Tabitha dear, that’s not the point.” Aunt Clara sighed as her smile slowly faded. “You’re not a servant any longer, so why not allow a man to treat you like a lady? Now is a good time to start, you know.”
Tabitha wanted to throw her hands up in surrender. Obviously, arguing with her aunt wasn’t getting her anywhere. What a stubborn woman. And here Tabitha thoughtshewas stubborn. Now she knew where she had inherited it.
“So, I do believe,” Aunt Clara continued, “that Mr. Woodland would be the best choice.”
Tabitha sat back on the sofa and folded her arms. “Tell me, Aunt Clara, what do you really know about Mr. Woodland?”
“I know quite a bit.”
“Such as?”
“He’s in his late twenties, or perhaps early thirties, and he was married, but his wife and child died during childbirth. He has a heart of gold, and he’s truly a messenger of God. This whole town is his family, and he would give the shirt off his back just to help someone in need.”
Tabitha frowned, her mind swirling with doubt. Perhaps this man wasn’t Lord Hawthorne after all. The possibility flickered in her thoughts, but it didn’t erase the lingering unease. If he wasn’t Dominic, why did he resemble him so closely, and why did he behave in a way that stirred her memories and made her body shiver with the same awareness she had always felt around Lord Hawthorne?
Things simply didn’t add up. His mannerisms, his laugh, the way his eyes twinkled in that all-too-familiar way—it was all unsettling, as if she were standing on the edge of discovering something profound, yet the truth remained just out of reach.
If it wasn’t him, then who was he? And more importantly, what was the reason for this strange charade? Tabitha’s hearttwisted with uncertainty, and she knew she wouldn’t find peace until she unraveled the mystery.
“Do you know if he has any relatives in York? He looks familiar to me, somehow.”
Both Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles glanced at each other and grinned. “He does have relatives in York,” Aunt Clara answered. “A few months ago, his cousin came for a visit.”
“What a nice gentleman.” Mrs. Stiles sighed. “And such a charmer, too. He was here for quite a few months, wasn’t he, Clara?”
Aunt Clara nodded. “Five, I believe, but he left not too long ago.”
“Who is his cousin?” Tabitha asked.
“He’s a lord.” Aunt Clara tapped her fingers on the table. “A marquess, I believe.”
“That he was, my dear.” Mrs. Stiles bobbed her head.
Tabitha’s heart picked up rhythm. What were the odds… “His name wouldn’t have been Lord Hawthorne, would it?”
Aunt Clara sighed. “Yes, that’s his name. Nice man, just like his cousin.”
