“Oh, Clara dear, do you recall when Lord Hawthorne was the center of attention at Miss Julia’s birthday party?” Mrs. Stiles chuckled. “The whole town celebrated her eighteenth birthday, and when Mr. Woodland arrived with his cousin, all the single women at the gathering were stuck to his side. I daresay the man is a bit of a charmer, and had all those women sighing. I’m quite sure they were all hoping he’d stay with his cousin for an indefinite amount of time, too.”
Of course Hawthorne was a charmer. Tabitha gritted her teeth at the thought, the familiar frustration bubbling up. It was painfully clear the man hadn’t changed one bit. As Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles gossiped about Dominic’s various exploits, Tabitha had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t want tohear about which woman he’d seduced recently, or which poor soul in town was foolishly hoping for an offer of marriage from him.
While the two older women chatted away, Tabitha took a moment to reflect. Perhaps she was mistaken about Mr. Woodland. If he and Dominic were truly cousins, it would explain the similar features—the resemblance that had unsettled her so much. That could be why she had jumped to the conclusion that it was Nic. It was a little eerie, though, how his eyes sparkled the same way, how he winked and laughed just like his cousin. Perhaps that was why her mind had merged them into one man.
But what truly unsettled her wasn’t the resemblance—it was her body’s reaction to Mr. Woodland. Before now, only Nic had ever made her feel so aware, so alive, with just a glance or a laugh. Why was she feeling that same pull toward this man? That was the question she couldn’t shake. As much as she wanted to believe Mr. Woodland was just a clergyman, the way her body responded to him left her more confused than ever.
Chapter Six
Dominic resisted theurge to wallop his cousin on the head, but he was still very upset at the man when he had returned home. Frederick was sneaking around town to do some spying, which gave Nic time to think…and fall asleep.
This morning he awoke feeling slightly better, but still annoyed, nonetheless. Panic was another emotion swimming through him right now, which he didn’t like at all. A few times during the evening, Tabitha had acted as if she knew his true identity. Yet she didn’t say anything. The woman he knew from six months ago would have confronted him immediately.
Perhaps this was what confused him more than anything.
Nic waited at the breakfast table for Frederick to awaken. Their discussion could not be put off a moment longer. By the creaks from the ceiling, Nic guessed that Frederick was up.
Drumming his fingers on the table, he sipped his coffee as he silently grumbled for something stronger to drink. But even Lord Hawthorne didn’t drink spirits this early in the morning. If only he was back home, he’d be doing so many things differently. This country life was definitely not doing anything for Nic’s sanity.
He turned and peered out the window. The cliffs and seaside provided a lovely view. As he watched the gentle waves splashing against some large boulders, peace settled inside of him. He wouldn’t mind this kind of relaxation every morning instead ofthe hustle and bustle of York and Mayfair, where two of his townhouses were located.
The longer he stared, the more his vision became distorted, and images popped into his head whether he wanted them there or not. Tabitha’s lovely face became clearer, and her amazing blue eyes gleamed with happiness. He could still hear her light laughter and especially the angelic ring of her voice as she sang with him. Memories of their verbal swordplay from six months ago came to mind. She had such a quick wit that kept him on his toes. Not often did he meet servants like Tabitha, or evenladieslike her. Surprisingly, he had looked forward to seeing her again just so he could hear what would come out of her mouth next.
And speaking of mouths…
Groaning, Nic tore his attention away from the window. He rested his elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead. The memory of her kiss was definitely powerful.
“Is this not a beautiful morning?”
Frederick’s chipper voice brought Nic out of his thoughts. He snapped his head up and glared at his cousin. “Not really, no.”
Frederick arched an eyebrow. “No? And why not? Look outside. The sun is shining, the gentle wind—”
“Frederick, please quit prattling on like a woman and sit down. There is a matter of great importance that we need to discuss.”
Huffing, Frederick took a chair and plopped down. “All you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to be uncouth about it.”
“Then forgive me for being so short with you. I had a most disturbing evening, and this morning isn’t any better.”
Frederick sat forward, resting his arms on the edge of the table. “What happened at Mrs. Burls’ birthday social?”
“Well, for now I won’t yell at you for giving the old woman a music box with her favorite song that youknewshe would want you to sing to her, so I’ll save that until another time.However”—Nic folded his arms and leaned back in his chair—“there are bigger problems afoot here.”
“Does someone suspect you are not the clergyman?”
“No one from the community. I did an excellent job acting like a preacher.” He took a deep breath. “However, do you recall the fiasco I told you about with Tristan Worthington and Diana Hollingsworth?”
“Of course I do. The murders were the talk of England.”
“Then you recall me telling you about Diana’s maid, Tabitha?”
A grin stretched across Frederick’s mouth. “How could I forget about her? She made you behave badly, if memory serves.”
Nic grimaced. “Indeed, I did not act like a gentleman, and my accusations were out of line.”
“Whatever happened to the woman?”
“I’ll tell you what happened.” Nic pushed away from the table and stood. “She’s here visiting her great-aunt, Clara Burls!”
