The constant rattle of Frederick’s voice pulled Nic out of his thoughts. He quickly concentrated on what his cousin was talking about now. Never had he known another man who jabbered so much.
Nic lit the stove and placed the tea kettle on top. “Tell me you have discovered some clues,” he said over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you have found something by now?”
Groaning, Frederick plopped down in a chair as a frown claimed his expression. “The only thing I have discovered is that there are many townsfolk who aren’t on the up and up. Some lead double lives.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Unfortunately, this discovery hasn’t led me to the true thief.”
“What about David?” Nic asked. “Do you think he was really part of the robbery?”
“Deep down in my heart, I don’t think he was. I’m beginning to understand why the constable said what he had about David’s death covering up the truth. I honestly think that whoever the culprit is, killed David—for some unknown reason—and then buried an item of what had been stolen to make the constable believe he was the one responsible.”
“Indeed, this case is most baffling.” Leaning against the counter, he folded his arms. “But I’m surprised you haven’t found even one little clue yet.”
Frederick shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I have found dozens of clues, but because I have discovered so many, this has confused me more. I don’t want to be making accusations before I know for certain if that person is the thief.”
“I understand completely.” Would Nic ever forget when he’d wrongly accused Tabitha of murder? “But I also know because of David’s death, these people need you.” He took the kettle of water and poured the hot liquid into a teacup.
“I have just the thing for you.” Frederick tapped his finger against his chin. “There is a book in my study that will help you sympathize with these people more. I’ll go get it.” He stood and moved toward the kitchen door.
“But Frederick,youare the clergyman. They needyou!” He didn’t want to admit that playing the clergyman’s role had become boring. He was eager to step back into Lord Hawthorne’s boots again.
Frederick stopped at the door and met Nic’s gaze over his shoulder. “Have patience, my dear cousin. Our charade will soon come to an end, but not before we find the true thief. With any luck, it’ll be the same person who killed David.” He walked out of the door.
Nic fixed his tea and sat at the table. Once again, his vision blurred as a stare took over. Anger swirled inside of him, looking for a way out. He had agreed to help his cousin, but because things were worse, he felt it was time to find the thief a different way. Perhaps they should try to set a trap. All he knew was that he wasn’t qualified to assist the grieving townsfolk in their time of need.
The clergyman’s lifestyle was quite dull. Of course, the rain lately had kept him from getting out and asking around, and now with the murder, it might be harder than before to dig into people’s minds.
Grumbling, he massaged his head. It aggravated him that he couldn’t be himself, except around his cousin. He couldn’t even be himself around Tabitha, because his charming personality seemed to turn her away. In fact, she’d been nicer to him when he was the clergyman.
He felt torn, knowing he should help his cousin because he made a promise, but at the same time, he wanted time to be himself to just breathe. The old Nic screamed inside of him to get out and do something enjoyable. Even playing a good game of cards would be nice. But Frederick wouldn’t allow that, saying that a card game was one of Satan’s tools in corrupting good people.
“Here it is.” Frederick brought the book to Nic and placed it on the table. “Read this and it will help you know what to say when the occasion arises.”
Nic sighed in frustration. “One more week, Frederick. That’s all I can handle is one more week.”
His cousin scowled and shook his head. “You cannot push me. I’m doing everything I can to find the right person.”
“Exactly, which means that after one more week is over and you still don’t have enough evidence to have someone arrested, then there’s nothing more you can do and we must bring this charade to an end.”
Huffing, Frederick stormed toward the door. Just as he reached it, he snapped, “I’ll think about it.”
“Where are you going?”
“To my room to sleep.”
Nic jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over. “How can you accomplish thinking this over if you’re sleeping?”
His cousin didn’t answer, just continued hurrying up the hall and up the stairs. Nic grumbled and propped his chair back in place before sitting and finishing his tea. He glanced at the book.Dealing with Grief. Nic rolled his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood to read a book like this. For certain, reading this would put him to sleep quickly.
He was wise to give his cousin one week to fix things. But now Nic even wondered if a week was too long. He’d go insanefrom living this kind of life before the seven days were up, he just knew it!
*
Tabitha had beensurprised to see how many people attended church today because of the heavy rain. But what shocked her even more was hearing Mr. Woodland’s sermon, which happened to be very spiritual and moving. Tabitha knew it was because Nic’s cousin had written it. But she was happy to see Nic delivering the speech with confidence and empathy.
Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles had mentioned a few times during church that Mr. Woodland looked at Tabitha a little differently than he had the other single women in the congregation. Although she didn’t want to believe it, as she had studied him during the sermon, and especially afterward when he mingled with the townspeople, Tabitha noticed his gaze kept wandering back to her, and sure enough, his eyes lit up with that familiar twinkle.
Once again, this action had made her heart leap, which in turn made her upset. Hadn’t she talked to him about this already? Perhaps she needed to be a little more stern and forceful. She didnotwant him charming her. It might be different if she knew his feelings were sincere, but they were not. Rogues only had one purpose, and that was to win a girl’s heart. Once they had accomplished this—and of course, having their wicked way with them—they’d move on to the next innocent soul.
Tabitha sat on one of her aunt’s cushioned chairs by the window, and watched as the rain soaked the land. Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles were taking their customary Sunday afternoon naps, and Tabitha was bored out of her mind. Sally kept herselfbusy in her room with writing letters to her family, and Tabitha didn’t want to bother her.
