“Oh dear,” Frederick whispered. “That cannot be good.”
“It’s not. Especially now when Lord Hawthorneneedsto stay hidden.” Nic waved his hands in the air as he talked. “And what’s worse is that I suspect she knows.”
“No.” Frederick jumped to his feet. “How could she? You look like me.”
“We might look alike, but I still have the qualities that make me the lovable, charming rogue I’ve always been.”
Frederick rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”
Grumbling, Nic marched to his cousin and stopped inches in front of him. Nic’s chest heaved with the angry breaths he took, and he clenched his hands into fists. “Then if I don’t have those qualities, how else did Tabitha become suspicious?”
“Are you certain she suspects you are Lord Hawthorne?”
Nic held his breath for a moment as his mind went back over what had happened last night. “I…don’t know. At times she acted like she thought it was me, and other times she didn’t.”
“All right.” Frederick raised his hands in surrender. “Let’s think this over clearly, before we jump to conclusions. After all,youof all people know the folly of doing that. Especially with that particular woman.”
Nic scowled and nodded. “You don’t have to remind me.”
“Because Tabitha didn’t actually confront you about the disguise, there might be a possibility that she doubts her own thoughts.” Frederick moved away from Nic and paced the floor. “And if she doubts her thoughts, then we need to make certain she continues to do so.”
“Go on.” Nic nodded, hoping his cousin would say something he didn’t already know.
“What you need to do”—Frederick stopped near Nic, pointing to his chest—“is to reassure her that your cousin, Lord Hawthorne, has returned home. While you’re doing this, you should try to repair the damages that yourlovable, charming, roguishself has done to the poor girl.”
Nic fisted his hands again. “Are you done insulting me?”
“I’m not insulting you, dear cousin. I’m just using your words.” Frederick lifted his chin stubbornly.
Growling, Nic raked his fingers through his hair and moved away from his cousin before he followed his instincts and slugged him in the face. He mulled over what Frederick had suggested. If Nic could convince her that he was indeed the clergyman, theremightbe a chance that he could persuade her to forgive Lord Hawthorne. Perhaps he’d even try to soften her heart toward him…Lord Hawthorne, that was. If he could accomplish this, Tabitha would be more obliged to talk to him and mayhap even forgive him.
He took in a deep, cleansing breath, releasing his anger and doubt. His hopes that this may indeed be the very thing to do lifted. His future looked slightly brighter. At least he might have this heavy burden of guilt that had been resting on his shoulders lifted, and he’d finally feel good about the whole situation.
“Frederick, I believe you’re right.” Nic met his cousin’s stare and nodded. “Now, let’s plan a way that the good clergyman Mr. Woodland can soften Miss Tabitha’s heart quickly.”
*
North Devon cliffswere absolutely spectacular. Many paths weaved through the slopes toward the cliffs. Some were steeper than others and very rocky. Sweet William flowers assisted the grass in decorating the slopes. At certain points on the cliffs, small waterfalls streamed foamy water down their thick green sides.
This afternoon the ocean was clear and bluer than Tabitha had ever imagined. She stopped along one of the smaller cliffs and inhaled the fresh, salty air. Closing her eyes, she smiled and was content to hear the waves splashing against the rocks below, as birds squawked overhead in the cloudless sky. Since she was sixteen years old, she hadn’t found a chance to take a leisurely stroll anywhere. She hadn’t doneanythingleisurely, not until she met her half-brother, Tristan Worthington, and confessed the secret she’d been holding for several years—that she was his illegitimate sister.
She had worried that her half-brothers Trevor, Tristan, and Trey might hate her because their father had cheated on their mother. Any lord in the realm would have turned up his nose at such a scandalous situation. But not the Worthington brothers. They were unlike anyone she’d ever met. They were so kind and so forgiving, and they welcomed her into their family with openarms. Their mother was even pleasant to Tabitha—after getting over the initial shock of it all, of course.
Trevor, the eldest, had set her up a trust fund. She explained he didn’t need to do that, but he pushed the issue until she relented. Her brothers told her that they didn’t want her to ever be a servant again. Considering she’d been a maid all of her life, it was very hard to sit back and allow someone else to do the cooking and cleaning for her.
She glanced down at her day dress and plucked at the sides of her green floral-print skirt. The weather was a little chilly, so she’d worn her forest-green waist jacket with matching gloves. Her bonnet was the same floral print as her dress. Dressing this way still seemed foreign to her. She felt as if she should be wearing the normal gray uniform with a white apron around her waist, as what was required while working for Lord Elliot.
A cold shiver passed through her and she folded her arms, hoping the chill would soon leave. Little by little, her nightmares over the last several years were slowly disappearing. Although Lord Elliot was dead, she knew there were still men out there who abused their servants or wives. Men like this should be horsewhipped, in her opinion. She couldn’t tolerate men who had no respect for women.
Then there were men like Lord Hawthorne, who behaved exactly opposite, but were still snakes. They charmed their women and doted on them, merely for sport. It built their egos as they spouted words of kindness and love as if reading directly from a book of sonnets, and yet when it came down to devotion and commitment, they didn’t have an ounce of courage in their distrustful bodies. She couldn’t abide men like Lord Hawthorne, either.
After hearing her aunt and Mrs. Stiles chat about how wonderful Mr. Woodland was this morning, Tabitha wondered if she’d been mistaken. She finally convinced herself that theclergyman reminded her of Dominic so much that she saw similarities which couldn’t have possibly been there in the first place. There was no way Mr. Woodland was Lord Hawthorne. Especially because she didn’t think Nic would sink so low as to portray a man of God.
In coming to this decision, she was more comfortable about going out with Sally to walk along the beach and cliffs this afternoon, because she knew she wouldn’t meet up with Lord Hawthorne.
Tabitha glanced at Sally. Her maid even appeared more relaxed here. They were far enough away from Society’s gossipmongers not to be caught up in their dramatics. Out here Tabitha and Sally wouldn’t have to cower if someone spoke to them. They wouldn’t have to wonder if anyone would recognize them from working for Lord Elliot, and Tabitha definitely wouldn’t have to be concerned that anyone in North Devon would have heard the whispers about her being the old Duke of Kenbridge’sbastarddaughter.
“Sally?”
