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T oday began like any other day in Dominic Lawrence’s life since his arrival in North Devon five months ago.

But this morning, as he rose and dressed, something was markedly different—he was no longer himself.

For the next several weeks, he would cease to be Lord Hawthorne and take on the role of his cousin, the local clergyman.

Dominic ran his hand over the rough, month-old growth of beard covering his chin and mouth.

“By Jove, I believe I might just pull this off,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he glanced at his cousin, who stood across the room.

The man in the mirror hardly resembled the marquess he once knew.

The transformation was, quite frankly, startling.

But beneath the bravado, a flicker of doubt lingered.

Sighing, Dominic shook his head and scratched his chin. “Though I must admit,” he added with a frown, “I have my reservations about the facial hair.”

“What’s wrong with the beard?” Frederick Woodland asked as he moved to stand behind Nic, glancing in the mirror. “I started to grow mine these last couple of weeks so that when we switched identities, you would look like me.”

“This I know, cousin, but you have always been clean-shaven.”

Frederick chuckled and peered closer into the mirror at his own reflection.

“Indeed, I have, but we needed this so you could take over my role. By now, my parishioners believe I’ve been afflicted with some kind of skin malady that makes it impossible to shave.

” Turning his head from side to side, he studied his profile.

“And I must say I was inspired to create such a story. God has indeed assisted us in our plan to find the thief in our midst. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without His help.

” Frederick’s gaze met Nic’s. “And yours, of course.”

Nic chuckled softly, a sound that echoed with the memories of their boyhood.

The two cousins had always been mistaken for brothers, so much so that family members often commented on their uncanny resemblance.

From their dark hair to their broad shoulders and oval faces, they shared more than just a familial bond.

As children, Nic and Frederick used to swap places for fun, fooling their relatives with brief but harmless trickery.

The ruses never lasted long—Frederick was five years older, after all—but the resemblance was still striking.

Nic turned his gaze back to the mirror, studying his reflection with a critical eye.

Despite the month-old beard and his altered appearance, there was one thing the disguise would never conceal—his eyes.

He had been told countless times, mostly by women, that his eyes twinkled when he laughed, a mischievous gleam that betrayed his true identity.

Even now, as he tried to assume Frederick’s serious demeanor, the self-assured smile that played on his lips was unmistakably that of the Marquess of Hawthorne, not a humble clergyman.

Some things just couldn’t be hidden.

Five months ago, Nic had eagerly arrived in North Devon to visit his cousin Frederick, excited to explore a part of the country he’d never seen before.

The tranquil visit, however, had taken a dark turn about a month ago when a string of church robberies began to plague the area.

At first it was small, insignificant items being taken, but as the thefts escalated, more valuable church possessions started to disappear.

That was when Frederick had devised a daring plan—one that involved the two cousins swapping roles.

Frederick’s logic was simple: while Nic posed as the clergyman during the day, Frederick could move about under the cover of night, spying on the townspeople and hoping to catch the thief in the act.

Frederick knew the village well, and he believed that his intimate knowledge of the area and its residents would give him an edge in identifying who was being dishonest.

However, with his daily responsibilities as a clergyman, he couldn’t risk staying up all night to investigate without raising suspicion. The townspeople were observant, and a fatigued and distracted vicar would quickly arouse curiosity—something Frederick couldn’t afford.

At the time, the plan had seemed feasible, even clever.

But now, standing in front of the mirror and reflecting on the complexities of the deception, Nic felt his confidence waver.

What had once sounded plausible now felt perilous.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they might be in over their heads.

Would they really be able to pull this off, or were they setting themselves up for failure?

“I just pray that we can find this thief soon. I fear I won’t be able to handle this bush on my face.” Nic scrubbed his chin, realizing that although the hair was soft against his palms, it would become bothersome in due time.

“We may be five years apart, Hawthorne,” Frederick said, patting his slightly rounder belly, “but as long as you powder your hair to make it look as if you’re aging gracefully, I think you shall make my perfect double.”

Inwardly, Nic grimaced, questioning his own judgment.

What had possessed him to volunteer for this elaborate charade?

It had all seemed so straightforward when they first discussed the plan—disguising himself as his cousin had sounded like a clever, even amusing, solution.

But now, as he stared at his reflection, doubt crept in.

Did he really want to parade around as a slightly older version of himself, pretending to be something he was not? Still, a promise was a promise, and he had vowed to help catch the thief responsible for stealing church funds and framing Frederick for the crime.

At least, Nic mused with a wry smile, they were far enough removed from his usual circle of acquaintances. If anyone from his own social sphere saw him in this ridiculous role, they would likely never let him live it down. The idea of playing a clergyman was laughable enough as it was.

He should never accept the role of man of God , and in doing so, he might be struck down. The thought made him inwardly chuckle. He hoped the heavens wouldn’t punish him for this deception—posing as a man of virtue when his own life was anything but holy.

A sudden thought struck Nic, causing a knot to form in his stomach.

Frederick had spent a great deal of time with parishioners, meeting them in private to offer guidance and spiritual counsel.

How was Nic supposed to handle those situations when he wasn’t even remotely qualified to offer the wisdom of an ordained clergyman?

He could hardly fake the knowledge or presence that Frederick naturally exuded in such delicate matters.

His mind raced for a solution. Then an idea hit him—he could play up his cousin’s skin condition.

If people believed he had a contagious rash, they might not want to get too close or request lengthy private conversations.

It wasn’t foolproof, but it could buy him some space and prevent any awkward interactions that could expose the ruse.

Relief swept over him. That idea actually might work. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

Frederick moved away from the full-length mirror and approached a chair where his jacket lay draped over the back. When he picked it up, Nic’s resolve hardened. There was no turning back now. The plan was already in motion, and he needed to play his part convincingly, no matter the risks.

Frederick carried the jacket to him and assisted Nic.

“Now, let’s complete your clergy attire so you can go out into the community and present yourself.

It has been a few weeks since my friends have seen me out of the house.

I’m certain they will be delighted that I have recovered from my sickness. ”

Nic continued to study his reflection, noting with some frustration how awkwardly his cousin’s clothes fit him.

While Frederick and he were both broad through the shoulders, Frederick was clearly wider through the middle, and the difference was obvious.

The jacket and trousers practically hung off Nic’s leaner frame, making him feel like a child playing dress-up.

Surely the townspeople would notice the ill fit.

Still, he reasoned, it might actually work in their favor.

Their story about Frederick being sick for a couple of weeks would now seem more credible—explaining away his gaunt appearance and poorly fitting clothes.

With any luck, people would attribute it to an illness rather than suspect anything else.

Nic tugged at the loose jacket, adjusting it as best as he could. At least there was some comfort in knowing that his cousin’s physical condition, real or not, might cover for the many ways he wasn’t cut out for this deception.

“And don’t forget,” Frederick added, “this evening is Mrs. Burls’ eightieth birthday party, and you must make an appearance. You recall who she is, don’t you?”

Nic turned away from the mirror and met his cousin’s stare. “Of course I know Mrs. Burls. She’s the oldest woman in town.” He shook his head. “I’ve been here a good four months already, so I do know most of your friends.”

“Good, good.” Frederick grinned and moved to the window.

He carefully pulled back the curtains and peered out.

“It’s a fine day, is it not? Such perfect weather for a walk.

” He swung his head and looked back at Nic.

“I almost envy you now. I shall have to resign myself to staying in the house and only leaving at night.”

Nic shrugged. “This was your plan. Are you thinking of backing out?”