Nic laughed and clapped his hand on the other man’s thin shoulder. “And might I suggest not arguing with your wife, either.” He glanced at Mrs. Lambert and winked. Her cheeks flared the color of rose petals. The shade clashed greatly with her bright orange-red hair. He tipped his hat and bowed. “I must be on my way. I pray you both will have a pleasant day.”
“We will,” Mr. Lambert said. “Will we be seeing you later tonight at Mrs. Burls’ birthday celebration?”
“Indeed you will.” Waving at them, Nic continued his walk.
Another minute later, his name was being called by a woman across the street. The widow, Mrs. Smythe, and her maiden sister, Miss Talbot, were the gossipmongers of the parish. If there was a story to be told, these ladies were the first to spread the news. Apparently, they knew everything…or they wanted to let everyonethinkthey did.
Perhaps, if Nic became really close with those two, he might discover if one of them knew who the real thief was. Although he enjoyed charming women, he’d never had to work his wiles on women of their age. He supposed there was a first time for everything.
Mrs. Smythe was a short, round woman with a head full of brownish-gray hair that seemed perpetually in disarray, constantly slipping free from the coil she attempted to tame at the back of her head. Her plump figure and lively, bustling nature made her a familiar presence in the village. Standing beside her was her sister, Miss Talbot, who shared the same roundness but towered over her older sibling, thanks to her tall, big-boned frame. Miss Talbot’s stringy brown hair, always looking as though it had never seen a comb, added to her disheveled appearance.
From the moment Nic had met her, she’d given the impression of someone perpetually caught in a windstorm. Her most distinctive feature, however, was the large, prominent nose that seemed to dominate her face, making it difficult not to fixate on it during the conversation, no matter how hard Nic tried to look elsewhere.
“Mr. Woodland,” Mrs. Smythe called again from across the street. She hustled as fast as her round little body could carry her until she stood in front of Nic. Out of breath, she smiled, holding her hand to her chest. “Oh, Mr. Woodland. It’s so refreshing to see you today. Why, I was just telling my sister, Mildred, earlier that we should drop in to see how you are faring.” Slowly, her gaze slid over Nic, and her eyes widened. “Oh, heavens. It appears you have lost some weight. I didn’t think you had been that sick.”
He patted his midsection. “I didn’t think I was that sick either, until I dressed fully this morning and realized my clothes didn’t quite fit. Perhaps I should get sick like this more often.” He ran his hands up and down his middle. “I believe I can feel my ribs.”
“Oh, Mr. Woodland.” Miss Talbot blushed. “You are just horrible! Feeling your ribs is not a good thing. You need to come to the house soon so that I can fatten you up with some of my food.”
“I thank you, Miss Talbot. Mrs. Smythe. Taking in a meal with you does sound welcoming. Now, don’t let me keep you from your walk. I was just heading to the church.”
“Have a pleasant time.” Miss Talbot’s blush deepened as her gaze skipped around him, not meeting his eyes.
Nic suppressed a chuckle as he observed Miss Talbot, recalling how it had been clear from the beginning that she harbored deep feelings for Frederick. It baffled him that his cousin had never noticed—or perhaps Frederick simply hadn’trecognized the subtle signals Miss Talbot sent his way. Then again, women were notoriously difficult to read, their emotions shifting like the wind. One moment they were reserved, and the next they were wild with passion.
Nic had seen it all. As a self-proclaimed rogue, he had encountered every type of woman imaginable. Some would glare at him with eyes blazing like fire, only to melt in his arms moments later, willingly sharing a heated kiss. But just as quickly as they’d surrendered to their desires, they would transform, spouting venomous words as if none of it had ever happened. Their unpredictability was enough to drive any man to madness.
Perhaps Frederick was wise to keep his distance. It certainly explained why Nic had steered clear of marriage—he had no desire to be ensnared by the fickle nature of a woman’s heart.
Yet, even as he mentally reaffirmed his disdain for commitment, a familiar face crept back into his thoughts. A face that, despite his best efforts, refused to disappear entirely from his memory. Tabitha Paget. She lingered in his mind, resurfacing at the most unexpected moments, like now.
From the moment Nic first laid eyes on her, Tabitha Paget had captivated him. Her enchanting blue eyes seemed to pull him in like a siren’s call, luring him closer with every glance. There was a mysterious air about her, something elusive that he couldn’t quite grasp, and it drove him to dig deeper into her life, desperate to understand why she intrigued him so. He had spent far too much time unraveling that mystery, and now he was paying the price for it.
He cursed himself for the way she lingered in his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget her. She haunted his dreams, appearing unbidden during the still of the night, her face vivid and unforgettable.
Although their association had ended disastrously, with accusations and misunderstandings that left them both scarred, he could never shake the regret that gnawed at him. It bothered him deeply that he had never been able to apologize for accusing her of murder.
He inhaled deeply, trying to clear his head as he made his way toward the church. The familiar stone pathway stretched out before him, each step a reminder of the charade he was about to continue. As he drew closer, his pace slowed, and his gaze lifted toward the heavens.
Surely God wouldn’t strike him down for walking into His house dressed as a clergyman. Or would He?
Gulping, Nic reached for the front door. The steel from the knob was cold against his palm, but the energy running rapidly through his body would turn the handle warm very quickly, he was sure.
God forgive me, for I have sinned…Yet, in this case of switching identities, he needed to help his cousin. God would forgive him. He hoped.
Chapter Two
Tabitha Paget pressedherself against the side of the coach, her heart racing as she peered out of the window, watching the small township of North Devon come into view. The countryside rolled past in a blur, but all her focus was on the village she had longed to return to. She had arrived earlier than expected, and the surge of excitement within her was almost unbearable. Her chest felt tight, filled with anticipation for the reunion she had been waiting for.
After all these years, she was finally going to see her great-aunt, Clara Burls. The last time Tabitha had seen her aunt, she had been just seven years old, a lifetime ago. She couldn’t afford to let more time slip by without visiting the old woman. At eighty years old today, her aunt wasn’t getting any younger, and Tabitha knew this might be her last chance to reconnect with the woman who had once been such an important part of her family’s history.
Aunt Clara had married well and, after her husband’s passing, been left with a considerable fortune. Despite her newfound wealth, Clara had always been cautious with her spending. She had hired a trusted companion—a widow she had befriended over the years, whose own husband had left her with little means—and employed a couple of servants to help manage the house. Yet, despite her financial security, Clara never flaunted her wealth. She preferred to live modestly, blending inwith the rest of the township rather than behaving like one of its wealthiest residents.
Clara was expecting Tabitha today. However, she had no idea about the life-changing events Tabitha had recently gone through. Tabitha had reunited with her half-brothers and, in a moment of great courage, confessed to being their father’s illegitimate daughter. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, and she’d expected rejection and heartbreak. Yet, to her astonishment, her brothers had welcomed her with open arms, accepting her into the family without hesitation. The relief and joy from that reunion still lingered in her heart, but now she faced another important connection in her life—her beloved Aunt Clara.
Tabitha wasn’t ready to fully embrace her new role in the family. She had spent most of her life as a servant, enduring hardships and a lack of security. The transition to being recognized as part of a wealthy, well-known family was a daunting prospect. After revealing the truth to her brothers, she had begged them to keep it a secret, and she was confident they had honored her request. Yet her frequent appearances with them and her growing friendship with their wives had sparked rumors among the gossips. It didn’t help that she bore a striking resemblance to two of her brothers, Trevor and Trey—similarities that the keen-eyed members of thetoncould easily notice.
Despite the whispers, the Worthington brothers had been nothing but kind to her. They insisted on giving her an allowance, enabling her to leave her life as a servant behind. For the first time, Tabitha had her own maid—a luxury she could hardly wrap her mind around. The adjustment to such a lifestyle was still difficult for her, but it was a necessity in her current position.
