He turned and peered out the window. The cliffs and seaside were a lovely view. As he watched the gentle waves splashing against some large boulders, peace settled inside of him. He wouldn’t mind this kind of relaxation every morning instead of the hustle and bustle of York and Mayfair, where two of his townhouses were located.
The longer he stared, the more his vision became distorted, and images popped into his head whether he wanted them there or not. Tabitha’s lovely face became clearer, and her amazing blue eyes gleamed with happiness. He could still hear her light laughter and especially the angelic ring of her voice as she sang with him. Memories of their verbal swordplay from six months ago came to mind. She had such a quick wit that kept him on his toes. Not often did he meet servants like Tabitha, or even ladies like her. Surprisingly, he had looked forward to seeing her again just so he could hear what would come out of her mouth next.
And speaking of mouths…
Groaning, Nic tore his attention away from the window. He rested his elbow on the table, and rubbed his forehead. The memory of her kiss was definitely powerful.
“Is this not a beautiful morning?”
Frederick’s chipper voice brought Nic out of his thoughts. He snapped his head up and glared at his cousin. “Not really, no.”
Frederick arched an eyebrow. “No? And why not? Look outside. The sun is shining, the gentle wind—“
“Frederick, please quit prattling on like a woman and sit down. There is a matter of great importance that we need to discuss.”
Huffing, Frederick took a chair and plopped down. “All you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to be uncouth about it.”
“Then forgive me for being so short with you. I had a most disturbing evening, and this morning isn’t any better.”
Frederick sat forward, resting his arms on the edge of the table. “What happened at Mrs. Burls’ birthday social?”
“Well for now, I won’t yell at you for giving the old woman a music box with her favorite song that you knew she would want you to sing to her, so I’ll save that until another time. However,” Nic folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, “there are bigger problems afoot here.”
“Does someone suspect you are not the clergyman?”
“No one from the community. I did an excellent job acting like a preacher-man.” He took a deep breath. “However, do you recall the fiasco I’d told you about with Tristan Worthington and Diana Hollingsworth?”
“Of course I do. The murders were the talk of England.”
“Then you recall me telling you about Diana’s maid, Tabitha?”
A grin stretched across Frederick’s mouth. “How could I forget about her? She made you behave badly if memory serves.”
Nic grimaced. “Indeed, I did not act like a gentleman, and my accusations were out of line.”
“Whatever happened to the woman?”
“I’ll tell you what happened.” Nic pushed away from the table and stood. “She’s here visiting her great aunt, Clara Burls!”
“Oh, dear,” Frederick whispered. “That cannot be good.”
“It’s not. Especially now when Lord Hawthorne needs to stay hidden.” Nic waved his hands in the air as he talked. “And what’s worse is that I suspect she knows.”
“No.” Frederick jumped to his feet. “How could she? You look like me.”
“We might look alike, but I still have the qualities that make me the lovable, charming rogue I’ve always been.”
Frederick rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”
Grumbling, Nic marched to his cousin and stopped inches in front of him. Nic’s chest heaved with the angry breaths he took and he clenched his hands into fists. “Then if I don’t have those qualities, how else did Tabitha become suspicious?”
“Are you certain she suspects you are Lord Hawthorne?”
Nic held his breath for a moment as his mind went back over what had happened last night. “I…don’t know. At times she acted like she thought it was me, and other times she didn’t.”
“All right.” Frederick raised his hands in surrender. “Let’s think this over clearly, before we jump to conclusions. After all, you of all people know the folly of doing that. Especially with that particular woman.”
Nic scowled and nodded. “You don’t have to remind me.”
“Because Tabitha didn’t actually confront you about the disguise, there might be a possibility that she doubts her own thoughts.” He moved away from Nic and paced the floor. “And if she doubts her thoughts, then we need to make certain she continues to do so.”
“Go on.” Nic nodded, hoping his cousin would say something Nic didn’t already know.
“What you need to do,” he stopped near Nic, pointing to his chest, “is to reassure her that your cousin, Lord Hawthorne, has returned home. While you’re doing this, you should try to repair the damages that your lovable, charming, roguish-self has done to the poor girl.”
Nic fisted his hands again. “Are you done insulting me?”
“I’m not insulting you, dear cousin. I’m just using your words.” Frederick lifted his chin stubbornly.
Growling, Nic raked his fingers through his hair and moved away from his cousin before he followed his instincts and slugged him in the face. He mulled over what Frederick had suggested. If Nic could convince her that he was indeed the clergyman, there might be a chance that he could persuade her to forgive Lord Hawthorne. Perhaps he’d even try to soften her heart toward him…Lord Hawthorne, that is. If he could accomplish this, Tabitha would be more obliged to talk to Lord Hawthorne and mayhap even forgive him.
He took in a deep, cleansing breath, releasing his anger and doubt. His hopes lifted that this may indeed be the very thing to do. His future looked slightly brighter. At least he might have this heavy burden of guilt that had been resting on his shoulders lifted, and he’d finally feel good about the whole situation.
“Frederick, I believe you’re right.” Nic met his cousin’s stare and nodded. “Now, let’s plan a way that the good clergyman, Mr. Woodland, can soften Miss Tabitha’s heart quickly.”
Chapter Five
North Devon cliffs were absolutely spectacular. Many paths weaved through the slopes toward the cliffs. Some cliffs were steeper than others and very rocky. Sweet William flowers assisted the grass in decorating the slopes. At certain points on the cliffs, small waterfalls streamed foamy water down their thick green sides.
This afternoon the ocean was clear and bluer than Tabitha had ever imagined. She stopped along one of the smaller cliffs and inhaled the fresh, salty air. Closing her eyes, she smiled and was content to hear the waves splashing against the rocks below, as birds squawked overhead flying in the cloudless sky. Since she was sixteen years old, she hadn’t found a chance to take a leisurely stroll anywhere. She hadn’t done anything leisurely, not until she met her half-brother, Tristan Worthington, and confessed the secret she’d been holding for several years—that she was his illegitimate sister.
She had worried that her half-brothers, Trevor, Tristan, and Trey, might hate her because their father had cheated on their mother. Any Lord in the realm would have turned up his nose to such a scandalous situation. But not the Worthington brothers. They were unlike anyone she’d ever met. They were so kind and so forgiving, and they welcomed her into their family with opened arms. Their mother was even pleasant to Tabitha—after getting over the initial shock of it all, of course.
Trevor, the oldest, set her up a trust fund. She explained he didn’t need to do that, but he pushed the issue until she relented. Her brothers told her that they didn’t want her to ever be a servant again. Considering she’d been a maid all of her life, it was very hard to sit back and allow someone else to do the cooking and cleaning for her.
She glanced down at her day dress and plucked at the sides of her green, floral print skirt. The weather was a little chilly, so she’d worn her forest green waist jacket with matching gloves. Her bonnet was the same floral print as her d
ress. Dressing this way still seemed foreign to her. She felt as if she should be wearing the normal gray uniform with a white apron around her waist, as what was required while working for Lord Elliot.
A cold shiver passed through her and she folded her arms, hoping the chill would soon leave. Little by little, her nightmares over the last several years were slowly disappearing. Although Lord Elliot was dead, she knew there were still men out there who abused their servants or wives. Men like this should be horse whipped, in her opinion. She couldn’t tolerate men who had no respect for women.
Then there were men like Lord Hawthorne, who were exactly opposite, but still snakes. They charmed their women and doted on them, merely for sport. It built their egos as they spouted words of kindness and love as if reading directly from a book of sonnets, and yet when it came down to devotion and commitment, they didn’t have an ounce of courage in their distrustful bodies. She couldn’t abide men like Lord Hawthorne, either.
After hearing her aunt and Mrs. Stiles chat about how wonderful Mr. Woodland was this morning, Tabitha wondered if she’d been mistaken this whole time. She finally convinced herself that the clergyman reminded her of Dominic so much, she actually saw similarities, which of course couldn’t have possibly been there in the first place. There was no way Mr. Woodland was Lord Hawthorne. Especially because she didn’t think Nic would sink so low to portray a man of God.
In coming to this decision, she was more comfortable about going out with Sally to walk along the beach and cliffs this afternoon because she knew she wouldn’t meet up with Lord Hawthorne.
Tabitha glanced at Sally. Her maid even appeared more relaxed here. They were far enough away from society’s gossipmongers not to be caught up in their dramatics. Out here Tabitha and Sally wouldn’t have to cower if someone spoke to them. They wouldn’t have to wonder if anyone would recognize them from working for Lord Elliot, and Tabitha definitely wouldn’t have to be concerned that anyone in North Devon would have heard the whispers about her being the old Duke of Kenbridge’s bastard daughter.
“Sally?”
The girl’s head snapped up and she looked at Tabitha. “Yes?”
“What would you think if I decided to live here?”
The blonde maid’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Are you jesting?”
“Not at all.”
“Why would you want to live here? Don’t you like York?”
Tabitha shrugged. “York is a nice town, but I haven’t felt very comfortable there. Perhaps it’ll grow on me soon enough, but North Devon seems so peaceful. Nobody is rushing around. So far from what I’ve seen, the people are pleasant and very welcoming. Things are just so… serene.”
“Yes, they are. I have enjoyed myself so far. North Devon is definitely a relaxing place, compared to York, anyway.”
“I agree.” Tabitha linked her hands together in back of her as she stepped slowly along the grassy edge. “I have realized how nice it is to be close to my only living relative as well.”
“What about your brothers? Are they not your family now?”
“They are.” Tabitha gazed out across the sea. “But I have only just met them. With Aunt Clara, I have some memories of when I was a child and my mother was still alive.” She sighed heavily. “I would like to stay out here at least until my aunt dies.”
“That’s understandable.”
Tabitha glanced back at Sally. “Is that all right if we stay, then?”
The maid’s smile broadened. “Absolutely.”
“Splendid.” Satisfaction spread over Tabitha as she continued her walk. It was so lovely out here. She was surprised that there weren’t more people taking a late morning stroll. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed another person out walking.
She stopped and studied the man as he grew closer by the second. The rhythm of her heartbeat sped up, and that familiar, uneasy feeling enveloped her. She recognized his swagger even if he used a walking stick, and she tried to convince herself that this was not Nic. This was the clergyman. But would Mr. Woodland walk like his cousin? Would the shape of his face have the same curves as Nic’s? Something deep inside her told her that this was not Mr. Woodland, but Nic in disguise.
There was only one way to find out. She must force herself to talk to him. She must study him completely. Not only that, she must rely on her heart to convey to her who this man really was.
“Good day,” he called out, lifting his hand in greeting.
She smiled, mainly for show. “Good day, Mr. Woodland. It’s nice to see you out walking.”
He stopped beside her and nodded. “On days like this, how could I stay inside when the Lord has offered such beauty for me to observe and enjoy.”
The flip of her heart reminded her that Nic would say something like this, especially because he stared right at her instead of looking across the ocean or at the breathtaking cliffs.
“That’s why Sally and I had to take a stroll.” She motioned her hand in front of her. “Would you like to join us?”
“Indeed, I would.”
He kept in step beside her as Sally walked a few steps back. Although Tabitha shouldn’t make a spectacle of herself by staring at him, how else could she study him to see if he was really the cock-sure marquis she’d remembered? This man’s hair was shorter than what Nic’s had looked like the last time they were together, but the areas of white in his dark locks made her pause. Then again, men powdered their hair all the time. Maybe he had done the same. However, that beard was throwing her off. Nic had a dimple in the middle of his chin, but because this man had hair covering that spot, she wouldn’t be able to see if there was a dimple there or not.
Another thing that was evident was the size of his clothes. They were very large on him. She recalled Mrs. Stiles mentioning how much weight he’d lost. Yet, from what Tabitha had heard, Mr. Woodland was only ill for a few weeks. She had been by her mother’s side when sickness had taken her parent’s life, and her mother hadn’t lost that much weight in such a small amount of time.
She moved her focus back to his eyes…eyes that looked so much like Nic’s it was disturbing. That wink and twinkle could only belong to one man.
“Miss Tabitha,” he began with a grin, “I must wonder why you are looking at me so strangely.”
She hitched a breath and quickly pulled out of her serious thoughts. “Forgive me, Mr. Woodland. You just remind me of someone I had met a few months ago.”
“I do?” He arched an eyebrow. “I hope this man is a ruggedly handsome fellow. I wouldn’t like it very much if I remind you of an old man with no teeth.”
A laugh sprang from her mouth. That was something arrogant Nic would say. She didn’t know the clergyman well enough to know if he could be so vain. Then again, from what she’d heard about him from her aunt and Mrs. Stiles, Mr. Woodland was an angel sent from heaven. In that case, the preacher man would not be so vain.
“Rest assured, Mr. Woodland, the man I speak of is young and vibrant, and too handsome for his own good.” She tried to keep her voice even instead of clipped with sarcasm. “And I assure you, he has all of his teeth.”
He chuckled. “That’s good to know. So tell me, who is this man?”
“Funny you should ask. I was informed this morning that he’s a relative of yours.”
His steps faltered until he stopped completely. “My relative?”
“Yes. His name is Dominic Lawrence, the Marquis of Hawthorne.”
“Then you have heard correctly. Hawthorne is my cousin. In fact,” he scratched his chin, “he was here for a little while, but he had business back home, so he left.”
“Then no wonder I see him when I look at you.” She forced herself to smile even though she loathed every second of it. “I was beginning to wonder if the man I’d briefly known had taken on a different title.” She tilted her head. “The man I knew would not have made a good clergyman.”
He threw back his head and belted out a laugh. “Oh, Miss Tabitha, you are correct to
assume such a thing. My wicked cousin couldn’t do what I do.” He rested his hand gently on her arm. “But if you see him, don’t tell him I said that. After all, he’s still my favorite cousin.”
Warmth spread through her limb from just his light touch. There was only one man who could get this kind of reaction from her body. At this moment, her heart told her this was indeed Dominic Lawrence.
She gritted her teeth, keeping herself from spouting angry words. No, she must not. If Nic was playing a game, she would play along just to see why he was impersonating a minister. She didn’t doubt he had a cousin who her aunt and the rest of the town knew as Mr. Woodland, but the man standing next to her now was most assuredly Lord Hawthorne.
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t think of telling him that, Mr. Woodland. In fact, I wouldn’t want to tell him anything at all. You see, we aren’t on speaking terms right now.”
He had the nerve to look surprised. What a great performer he was. She resisted rolling her eyes, but it was hard.
“You’re not? But why would such a charming, lovely woman not want to speak to my roguish cousin?”
Another chuckle slipped through her lips. Funny he would think of himself as charming. The rogue part was right, however. “Mr. Woodland, I’m not like the kind of women your cousin sweeps off their feet. I was able to see through his trickery and call him out on it. He didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t woo me as he was used to doing with other ladies.”
He nodded. “And I assume that only served to injure his pride.”
“I believe it did. It also made him think he could keep trying to win me over.”
He sucked in a quick breath. “Oh, what a pompous man to believe such a thing.”
“Yes…pompous is exactly what he is. His attitude is what turned me away.”
Frowning, he shook his head as he turned and resumed walking. “I just don’t understand my cousin sometimes.”
“Me, neither.” She kept beside him, continuing to study his expressions. “But I really don’t wish to.”
The Sweetest Secret Page 5