Yet the one thing that hadn’t changed was her eyes—those striking blue eyes that had once captivated him. He had called them amazing, and they still were, the most beautiful eyes hehad ever seen. In that moment, the past seemed to fade away, leaving him with only the undeniable pull she had always had over him.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Woodland,” she said.
Even the sound of her voice sent a wave of memories crashing over him, making his breath hitch in his throat. Their time together had been brief, but unforgettable. He dropped his gaze almost instinctively to her mouth—a mouth that had robbed him of all coherent thought in the past, especially when he remembered the softness of her lips against his.
But just as quickly, her demeanor shifted. Her eyes flickered nervously from Mrs. Stiles to the other woman near the window. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized her companion—Sally, the maid. Why was Sally with Tabitha?
A storm of questions brewed in his mind, but he forced himself to focus. His pulse quickened, and he cursed himself for standing there in stunned silence.Say something, Hawthorne,he inwardly shouted, but he couldn’t be sure what kind of expression he was wearing—probably a mix of shock and confusion.
Whatever he did next, he needed to stay in character. He couldn’t afford to let Tabitha catch even the slightest hint of his true identity. Taking a breath, he steadied himself, reminding his heart to stay composed even as it raced uncontrollably beneath the surface.
He cleared his throat and smiled. “Miss Paget, it is a pleasure to meet the grand-niece of such a wonderful woman.” He bowed. “Mrs. Burls is one of God’s greatest blessings in this township.”
Tabitha nodded. “I thank you. I’m sure my aunt will be happy knowing you hold her in such high esteem.”
“How long will you be staying with her?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It’s undecided now. If my aunt will have me, I wouldn’t mind staying for a few months.”
He silently groaned, but at the same time, his heart sped with excitement. This confusing reaction from his body would not do! He could not—under no circumstance—let her know who he truly was. To be sure, her presence here would not be a good thing if he and Frederick planned to trap a thief.
“Well, I’m certain your aunt would love your company, and I can assure you, the community—as well as myself—will welcome you with open arms.” He gritted his teeth. Why had he said itthatway?
She gave a hesitant nod as her smile weakened. “Uh, I thank you again.”
The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, leaving Nic in an unfamiliar and unsettling position. Never in his life had he felt so tongue-tied. As the Marquess of Hawthorne, his smooth words had always been his escape, capable of turning the tide in any awkward or messy situation. But now he wasn’t the marquess—he was Mr. Woodland, a simple clergyman. And at this moment, he could summon none of the charm or wit he was so known for.
Tabitha seemed equally uneasy, her eyes darting nervously around them, searching for an anchor in the uncomfortable quiet. When her gaze finally landed on him again, it wasn’t on his face—it was on his beard, as if she were trying to reconcile the man before her with the one she once knew.
The tension mounted with every passing second. He needed to say something—anything—to break the silence, but all he could manage was to stand there, wondering if she was beginning to see through his disguise, or if perhaps the mere sight of him brought back the same cascade of emotions that it did for him.
Chuckling, he ran his hand over his hairy face. “You’re probably wondering why a clergyman sports a beard. Am I correct, Miss Tabitha?”
She shrugged. “I suppose that thought did cross my mind.”
“My sickness made it impossible for me to shave. And until I’m fully healed, I must leave this on. I hope you don’t mind seeing me so scruffy.”
“Not at all, Mr. Woodland.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Stiles interrupted, “we should join the others now.” She turned to the maid still by the window. “Sally, will you make sure there’s enough food being served, and just help the other two servants tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sally curtsied and hurried past him into the other room.
Mrs. Stiles smiled. “Well, shall we go now?”
“Splendid idea.” Nic breathed a relieved sigh. He motioned with his hand. “After you ladies, of course.”
As Mrs. Stiles and Tabitha walked by, Tabitha’s curious stare stayed on him. Uncomfortable, he dropped his gaze as he followed behind.
Did she recognize him? She couldn’t possibly…yet why did she look suspiciously at him with narrowed eyes?
*
Tabitha stepped intothe large room where her aunt sat surrounded by guests, the lively hum of conversation filling the air. More people had arrived since she had first entered, and Mrs. Stiles had eagerly taken on the task of introducing her to each one, as Aunt Clara was deeply engaged in conversation. However, through all the introductions and polite exchanges, Tabitha found her gaze continually drifting toward one man—the clergyman.
There was something about him that unsettled her. She wasn’t sure if it was the way his eyes seemed to follow her every move, or the fact that whenever she caught him looking, hequickly averted his gaze, as though trying to hide his interest. He thought she hadn’t noticed, but she wasn’t foolish. He had been watching her—constantly.
The strange part was, despite never having met him before, something about him felt oddly familiar. It gnawed at her, the sense that she should recognize him, though she couldn’t quite place why. Was it his eyes? His voice? Or was it simply the unnerving way he looked at her, as if he could see through her outer façade, straight into the deepest parts of her soul?
