Threading his fingers through his hair, he left his bedroom and wandered downstairs, hoping to find a flask or bottle of whiskey—or anything that could be used to dull his mind. The only strong drink that Frederick had in his house was wine. That would certainly not do!
He was tempted to dress in his own clothes and go to the local tavern. He paused in thought, and then growled, scrubbing his hands over his bearded face. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to shave off this bothersome facial hair, and because of that, everyone would think he was the clergyman. And men of God definitely didn’t get drunk…in front of others and in a local establishment, anyway.
He stopped near the window. Shadows gradually grew on the ground as the sun slowly disappeared on the horizon. His mind wouldn’t stop reliving the conversations with Tabitha this afternoon. Why had he given his heart to the woman in the first place? Hadn’t he learned years ago that loving a woman mademen vulnerable? Obviously, Nic had forgotten that hard lesson in life and decided to try his luck at love once more.
Groaning, he closed his eyes and pressed his head against the window frame. Tabitha had hinted not once, but a couple of times, thathehadn’t confessed to loving her. Yet, deep in his heart, he had definitely reached that point. So why hadn’t he said those three important words to her? Had she been correct to assume the reason he didn’t voice his feelings was because deep down he realized their love could never be? A marquess and a servant could never marry.
As much as his mind wanted to argue the point, he knew she had been correct.
He cursed fate for handing him a raw deal. He’d watched his friends fall in love and marry the perfect woman, so why couldn’t Nic? Perhaps he was destined to be a rogue forever. He glanced down at his clergyman clothes and plucked at the black jacket. If he was meant to be a rogue, then why was he still dressed like this?
Suddenly, a knock pounded on the front door, breaking the stillness of the evening and jarring Nic away from his thoughts. He cleared his throat and went to the door to open it. Sally stood on the porch, wringing her hands against her middle.
“My lord,” she said softly, “forgive me for coming to see you, but I’m wondering…do you know where Tabitha is?”
His mind jumped back to the last time he’d seen Tabitha by the tree in front of her aunt’s house. She’d been so very lovely wearing that gold and white gown with her hair done up beautifully, making her look like a regal woman. The emotions he’d experienced while gazing upon her during that time also returned. It had been so hard not to take her into his arms and hold her the way he’d wanted…and to kiss her with so much passion.
A throb began in his forehead and he rubbed it with two fingers. “The last time I saw her was at the luncheon.”
A deep frown pulled on Sally’s mouth and she released a heavy sigh. “Oh, dear.”
“What’s wrong, Sally?”
“We haven’t seen her since the luncheon either. The last we knew, Tabitha had gone to her room. Yet when I checked on her an hour ago, she was not there. Her bed hadn’t even been touched.”
His first instinct was to worry, but then he recalled her words while they were by the tree.
“Tabitha was upset and confused. I did speak briefly with her after the luncheon before I came home, and she’d mentioned she wanted to be by herself for a little while and think.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Sally. Tabitha will return tonight, I’m sure of it.”
Nodding, the maid stepped backward as if preparing to flee. “I thank you, my lord. I shall inform her aunt.”
As Nic closed the door, he wondered why Tabitha wouldn’t have said something to her maid about leaving. Tabitha seemed like a responsible woman, so why didn’t she tell someone where she was going?
Once again, he felt as if he should worry about her welfare, but his broken heart and confused mind didn’t want any more complications. The best course of action would be doing nothing. Tabitha had wanted some time alone. He understood that better than anyone, especially now.
And as soon as Frederick came back from wherever he was, Nic would load the trunks on his coach that had been hidden inside his cousin’s barn all this time, and leave as soon as he could to return to Mayfair.
The past reminded him how long it would take to mend his broken heart.
Chapter Twenty-One
By late afternoonthe next day, Nic was ready to strangle his cousin. Again! Where could that blasted man be? Where on earth could he have been all dayandnight? Of course, Frederick had done this before, which really hadn’t bothered him, yet because he now wanted to leave this place, he wished his cousin would come home immediately.
Nic had paced the length of the entire house at least a hundred times, but that only made him more impatient. Now he feared that when his cousin finally did walk through the front door, Nic would feel the need to wrap his hands around his cousin’s throat and squeeze.
The sound of a carriage pulling up to the front of the house jarred him out of his harmful thoughts. If he succeeded in choking his cousin—a man of God—Nic would certainlynotbe going to heaven.
He hurried to the window that overlooked the front yard and peered out. There were actually two coaches that had stopped in front of the house. As the door to the first vehicle opened and a head poked out, his breath caught in his throat. What in the devil washedoing here? Within minutes, several more familiar people had exited the conveyances.
His heart flipped with excitement and he rushed to the door, throwing it open. His best friend, Trey Worthington, and his lovely wife, Judith, led the promenade of Worthingtons from upthe drive. Trevor and Louisa came next, followed by Tristan and Diana.
Stepping out on the porch, Nic folded his arms across his chest. When Trey’s attention landed on Nic, the man stopped in his tracks as his eyes widened. Behind him, his brothers did the same, and even had the same dumbfounded expressions. Gasps escaped all of them, sounding like a choir.
“I say, my good man,” Trey began in a teasing voice, “but I fear the world has indeed come to an end.” He glanced up at the sky. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to see pigs flying, either.” When he met Nic’s gaze, Trey grinned. “But I admit, I find myself intrigued to discover why my wayward friend is dressed like a clergyman and is sporting a beard.”
“I must add my interest, as well.” Trevor nodded.
Tristan chuckled. “Actually, nothing that Hawthorne does surprises me anymore.”
