“Good afternoon, Mr. Woodland.” Miss Talbot’s smile widened. “What a pleasure to see you in town.”
He stopped in front of her and bowed slightly. “It’s certainly a pleasure to see you.” He took a quick glance around them. “Is your sister not here with you?”
“Not this time. She was feeling under the weather and so stayed inside.”
“Under the weather, you say? Has she gotten terribly ill?”
“Nothing to worry about, Mr. Woodland. She just has the sniffles, and since it rained earlier, she didn’t want to take a chance in getting worse.”
“Oh, I see.” He nodded. “Well, give her my best, and I pray you won’t get sick, either.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Woodland. I really appreciate that.” Hesitantly, she laid her hand on his arm. “My sister and I need to have you over for dinner again. I have missed our visits.”
“As have I.” He smiled. “But let’s wait until we know Mrs. Smythe is completely well.”
“Oh yes, of course.” Miss Talbot snapped her hand away and entwined her fingers against her middle in some sort of nervous gesture. “Good day, Mr. Woodland.”
“And a good day to you.”
He walked away, but could feel her staring after him. Daring not to turn around to see if she still watched—for fear she’d get the wrong impression—he continued moving up the road. If he kept going straight, he’d be on the beach very soon.
Thinking about Miss Talbot, he couldn’t stop the chuckle bubbling up from his throat as a mischievous idea took root in his mind. Since he played his cousin, perhaps he should give her the impression that Frederick was interested in her. Then when his cousin stepped back into his role as clergyman, Miss Talbotwould not be shy around him, and maybe the two of them could finally fall in love.
A loud laugh escaped him. Hard to believe that he’d gone from helping his friends solve mysteries, to becoming a matchmaker.
The closer he came to the ocean, the stronger the wind blew. The tide didn’t seem to come as close to shore as it had when Mr. Jacobs and his daughter were here, thankfully. But Nic knew that finding any kind of clues as to why someone would dig a hole was probably buried deep in the sand and beyond reach. He was certain this was a mystery they would never discover by themselves. Indeed, if Mr. Jacobs and his daughter had seen anything, that would be the only assistance Nic and Frederick would get.
Even he had tried to recall that morning and if he’d seen anyone near the shore besides the blacksmith and his daughter. The only other two people out here were Tabitha and Sally. They, of course, looked as surprised to see Mr. Jacobs as Nic had been.
He reached the spot where he’d been standing when he first saw the blacksmith. Carefully, as not to slide, Nic made his way down the small hillside as he moved closer to where the hole had been that practically swallowed the little girl.
Another chill swept over him, but it had nothing to do with the breeze coming off the ocean. In fact, he felt as if someone was watching him. Slowly, he glanced around the beach but couldn’t see anyone.
Shrugging off the feeling, he tried to convince himself there was no reason for him to think this way. If anyone saw him right now, they would just believe he was out enjoying a nice walk, which was what a clergyman would do.
Now…where was that spot where the hole had been? Even if someone was watching him, he didn’t want to look conspicuous that he was actually searching for something. So taking slowersteps, he acted as if he was gazing across the water as he walked, and at the same time, scanned the area closely for anything that might have been left by the diggers.
So far, nothing looked out of place. Then again, he really didn’t think he’d find anything. Clouds had covered the sun, even though they would move shortly, so it wasn’t that easy to spot things lying around. Perhaps this was a wasted trip. After all, the wind and rain from earlier today, would have erased all signs of—
His foot caught on something and made him stumble. From the feel of it against his boot, he thought he had bumped against the root of a tree or very large bush since it was so heavy.
He stopped and turned to see what had made him trip. From out of the sand grew a strange kind of pale root. Yet, it didn’t really look like a root.
Crouching closer, he narrowed his eyes, trying to see it more clearly. Just then, the clouds moved away from the sun and shone on the object. Realization struck him. Gasping, he jumped back and cursed.
There was a human hand coming from under the sand, and by the pale color of the skin and fingernails, Nic was sure the limb was attached to a dead body.
Chapter Eleven
“Oh, for thenerve of that man!” Sally exclaimed, shifting the basket in her arms as she and Tabitha walked toward the small, red-bricked house with white shutters. “Honestly, Miss Tabitha, I don’t think that man will ever change. He’ll always be so full of himself that there won’t be any room for others inside his heart.”
Tabitha really shouldn’t have told Sally about Nic, but she desperately needed someone to talk with about it. She needed someone to listen to her frustrations. Of course, she swore Sally to secrecy. “He’d tried to show me that he’d changed, and at times, I thought he had.” She shook her head. “But you are correct, Sally. Men like Lord Hawthorne never alter their lives no matter what.”
Several hours ago, this was the very idea pushing Tabitha into her aunt’s kitchen as she took out her frustrations on making pastries. She had needed something to slam against the cooking board, and since it was out of the question to use Nic’s head, she chose to use dough instead.
It bothered her that even as much as she knew what kind of a man Lord Hawthorne was, she still kept him in her mind. Two hours of making pastries; Shrewsbury cake, bread and butter pudding with currants, and jam tartlets, she finally came to a decision. The only way to stop thinking about Nic was to replace him. Although she felt she wasn’t ready to find a husband, she must. It was the only way.
She climbed the porch and stopped in front of the door. She rapped her knuckles on the hard wood, anticipating the moment the door would be answered. She glanced at the basket in Sally’s arms. The aroma from the pastries they had made earlier still smelled heavenly. After all, the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach…and what better way than to make such tasty morsels?
