Tabitha held her breath, hoping he would finish his thought and not do anything to mess up right now.
He took a deep breath and dabbed the tip of his finger to the corner of his eye. She knew he wasn’t crying, but she was happy to see he at least wanted to appear like he was grieving. “The Lord wants us to come unto Him in prayer. I beseech every one of you to keep the Lord in your heart at this time, and keep David and his family in your prayers as well. Let us also remember that death is part of God’s plan, and that…uh…”
Panic tightened in her throat. Where was he going with this? He should have just shut up after saying what he did about David and his family. She glanced around the group and noticed confusion on their expressions as well. Oh dear! Nic was muffing this up greatly, and if he didn’t close his mouth now, he’d only make things worse.
“Well, you see,” he continued, stumbling over his words, “it’s part of His plan. We live, we die…”
Groaning, Tabitha frowned. He was digging himself a deeper hole to crawl into any minute. And why didn’t anyone do anything to stop him, or to offer him any words of encouragement? She couldn’t be the only person who was embarrassed for him right now. Was she?
Clearing her throat loudly, she moved toward him—which thankfully, was only a five steps away. Those close around her turned their heads and watched her as she stood beside their clergyman.
“Mr. Woodland,” she frowned and stroked his arm, “we know what you mean. We shall keep praying for David’s family.”
“Uh, yes.” He nodded, dabbing his finger to the invisible moisture in his eyes. “Forgive me,” he said louder, “I’m very distraught over all of this. I suggest we all return to our homes to be with our families. I assure you I will be able to comfort you better on Sunday.”
Relief washed over the faces of the townspeople as they turned and headed back to their houses. When Tabitha met Nic’s gaze, he also appeared relieved, but there was something else in his eyes that she couldn’t quite put a name to. He looked grateful, but it was more than that.
“You saved me again,” he whispered and squeezed her hand. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Well, I knew that if I didn’t do something, you would be showing them who you truly are sooner than planned.” She pulled away, but kept her gaze locked with his as she stepped toward Mrs. Stiles and Sally who still waited for her. “And do me a favor?” she asked quietly.
“Anything for you.”
Her heart tripped, making her stomach flutter. She really wished he wouldn’t say things like that, especially because he didn’t mean them. “Please listen more carefully to your cousin’s sermons. I fear you have a lot to learn about playing a man of the cloth.”
He smiled and winked. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Yes, I do.” She nodded, then finally turned her attention to her maid and Mrs. Stiles.
They waited for her until she reached them, and then without a word, they turned toward the lane leading to Aunt Clara’s home. The further away she walked, the more she wanted to peek over her shoulder to see if he was still watching her. Yet, she could feel his gaze upon her as if it had a touch all its own, because warmth cascaded over her back, stirring awareness inside her body. She held strong, but soon felt like screaming. Oh, drat! She must look back!
Slowly, she rolled her head and peeked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Nic hadn’t moved from the porch, and his focus was on her. Quickly, she looked back at the road ahead. Giddiness danced in her chest, and she quickly scolded herself for feeling this way. Lord Hawthorne was a rogue, and he’d never change. He was trained in wooing women and charming them until they swooned in his arms. Yet knowing this didn’t stop the pitter-patter of her heart from speeding up.
Blast him for doing this to her!
“Didn’t you think Mr. Woodland was acting strangely just now?” Mrs. Stiles asked after a few minutes of silence had passed.
“Yes, I did,” Tabitha answered. “But I think he’s still in shock for finding David’s body in the sand.”
“Oh, that poor man.” Mrs. Stiles dabbed the handkerchief to her wet eyes. “And poor David. What could possibly have happened to make someone want to murder such a kind boy?”
Sally shook her head. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“I’m certain,” Tabitha added, “that the constable will find the killer soon.”
Mrs. Stiles’ hand fluttered to her throat. “But it’s unsettling to know there is a madman running around our town. What if he’s not satisfied with killing one person? What if he wants more?”
“Now, now.” Tabitha rubbed the older woman’s arm. “Don’t work yourself into a dither. Unless we know what really happened, we cannot come to these kinds of conclusions. It will make us sick if we ponder on it for too long.”
“Yes, you are right, of course.” Mrs. Stiles turned to Sally. “Perhaps we should make a meal and take it to the Griffin family tonight.”
“Indeed, we shall.” Tabitha hooked her hand around the older woman. “Cooking has always made me feel better.”
“Oh, you are such a joy.” Mrs. Stiles smiled at her. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I hope you never leave North Devon. I have grown fond of our times together. I was just telling your aunt earlier today that we need to find you a man to marry here in town so you will never leave us.”
Tabitha chuckled, even though she really didn’t like that her aunt and companion were playing matchmaker. But hadn’t she been thinking about marriage as well, which is why she took that basket to Mr. Jacobs?
“In fact,” Mrs. Stiles continued, “I have been noticing how much attention Mr. Woodland has been giving you. And just a few minutes ago,” she motioned her head toward the doctor’s office, “he was looking at you differently.”
“Differently?” Panic welled in Tabitha’s chest once again. “How so?”
“There was a certain twinkle in his eyes when you were talking to him.” Mrs. Stiles giggled. “I think he’s sweet on you.”
Flipping her hand through the air, Tabitha released an awkward laugh. “No, he’s not. He’s kind to everyone he talks to.”
“True, he is, but his eyes have never twinkled before.” The older woman tilted her head, studying Tabitha a little closer. “He would be a very good husband. Any woman would be lucky to have him.”
Tabitha resisted rolling her eyes. If Mrs. Stiles only knew that the wolf in sheep’s clothing was really Lord Hawthorne…London’s most eligible rogue.
“I think I shall talk to your aunt about having him over for supper again. After all, he’s lonely, and you’re lonely…” She nodded. “Yes, the two of you would suit perfectly.”
Tabitha’s heart sank. She couldn’t have two old women doing that. But what kind of excuse could she give Aunt Clara, especially if Mrs. Stiles convinces her aunt that Mr. Woodland was a match made in heaven?
Chapter Twelve
Heaviness weighed on Nic’s chest, but then so did relief. Church was over now, and he headed back to Frederick’s house. Although Nic felt he’d memorized his cousin’s sermon well enough, it definitely drained him and made him want to sleep the remainder of the day. After all, didn’t the Lord say that Sunday was a day of rest?
He opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him. As he shrugged out of his raincoat, a voice from the corner of the room startled him.
“Splendid sermon, if I must say.” Frederick walked up to Nic and clapped him on the shoulder.
Confused, Nic arched an eyebrow at his cousin. “You were there? I thought you’d be sleeping.”
“I shall sleep soon enough.”
“Where were you? I didn’t see you.”
“I hid in the back classroom. Don’t you think I want to make sure you are presenting yourself as a man of God?”
Nic rolled his eyes and carried his coat to the fireplace, hanging it on a nearby chair to dry. Today’s weather was horrendous before church, and it surprised him t
o see so many people in attendance. Nevertheless, he was grateful they had turned out for the sermon his cousin had prepared. They needed the uplifting words of comfort.
“Of course I’m representing you well enough. Why do you continue to have doubts?” Nic walked into the kitchen to fix himself some tea. “Have I not succeeded in proving I can play your role?”
Frederick followed. “Actually, there were a few times you stumbled.”
“Yes, and I picked myself up, didn’t I?” Nic snapped.
Frederick chuckled. “Only when someone saved you.”
Nic stood by the counter and stared out the window. The rain pelted the glass pane, creating a relaxing rhythm. Indeed, someone had saved him, and that one act of selflessness had warmed his heart so much he was beginning to have different feelings about Tabitha.
For three days, he‘d tried to convince himself he was just grateful for Tabitha’s help, and nothing else. But in the back of his mind, he knew it to be different. Had he actually come to care for the servant woman who lived a different lifestyle? He still hadn’t heard from Trey or Tristan to discover why Tabitha had changed her status, but she certainly didn’t act like a servant any longer. Not that she ever had. From their first day of meeting, he could see she was far too bold to be a servant. In fact, her boldness was what captured his attention. Well…that, and her beauty, of course.
Now it didn’t matter about her station in life. He had indeed come to care for her, and he couldn’t shake the feeling no matter how hard he tried. She was the last thing on his mind when he fell asleep at night, and she was the first thing he thought about when he awoke. Out of all the woman he’d charmed over the years, none of them had taken up residence in his mind quite like Tabitha had.
Another thing that bothered him was knowing she resembled someone he knew. Sometimes her smile would have a familiar tilt to it, or her eyes would gleam in a certain way that made him think he might know her family. If he could only figure this out, perhaps then he’d know why she didn’t act like a servant any longer. Maybe her family did have noble blood running through their veins. That would explain why she acted the way she did sometimes.
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 in 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, you are the clergyman. They need you!” 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 insane from living this kind of life before the seven days were up, he just knew it!
* * * *
Tabitha had been surprised 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 did not want 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 herself busy in her room with writing letters to her family, and Tabitha didn’t want to bother her.
Reading a book was impossible, only because after a few paragraphs, visions of Nic popped into her head. She didn’t want to enjoy the way he’d gazed at her with such longing, and the way he’d winked that made her heart skip a beat. She especially didn’t want to delight in the way his touch had warmed her body and made her want more of his sweet attention.
Grumbling, she punched her fist into the armrest. There was no way around it. She must visit him today and let him know to cease this insanity at once! Especially since some of her aunt’s friends in church had also noticed and were encouraging Tabitha to flirt with the clergyman.
The rain had eased up slightly in the past few minutes, so now was a good time to take her walk to his house. She quickly slipped on her light gray pelisse before throwing her raincoat over her shoulders. Lastly, she place on her bonnet and tied the ribbons tightly beneath her chin. Before she left the house, she took one of Mrs. Stiles’ umbrellas.
As she hurried down the street, she was vastly relieved to see that people had kept to their homes this afternoon. Just like before, she didn’t need anyone getting suspicious of why she was visiting the clergyman.
The Sweetest Secret Page 12