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Tabitha moved to the window and flung open the curtains.

The bright morning sunlight spilled into the room, beckoning her with the promise of a beautiful day.

She longed to take Sally and escape for a peaceful walk through the parks, or even down by the beach, where the salty breeze might clear her troubled mind.

But the thought of running into Lord Hawthorne kept her trapped.

The turmoil within her was too great, and she feared what might spill from her lips if they crossed paths again.

She needed answers, not another confusing confrontation.

If the clergyman was indeed Dominic, what could possibly drive him to disguise himself this way?

She knew the man well enough to know he wasn’t the type to suddenly devote himself to God and a quiet life of service.

No, something was off. If Nic was hiding behind the mask of a clergyman, there had to be a reason—a dangerous reason.

And blast it all, she needed to find out what it was.

Feeling the room closing in on her, Tabitha turned from the window, her restlessness growing.

The walls seemed to inch closer, suffocating her with every second she remained.

She needed to get out, needed air, needed to escape the confusion swirling inside her.

If she stayed in this room any longer, she feared she might scream.

Without hesitation, she moved toward the door, desperate for space and clarity.

Downstairs, in the sitting room, she found Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles quietly enjoying their tea.

The peaceful scene was a stark contrast to the storm raging within her.

As she stepped into the room, both women looked up and smiled warmly at her, their faces gentle and welcoming.

“Good morning, dear,” Aunt Clara greeted her. “You’re up early.”

“How could I not be?” Tabitha moved to them and sat next to her aunt on the sofa. “Most of my life I’ve been a maid and had to get up before anyone in the household.”

Aunt Clara tapped her hand on Tabitha’s knee. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and don’t you let anyone tell you differently.”

“I won’t. But besides that, I needed a change of scenery,” Tabitha replied, her tone light despite the weight pressing on her. Perhaps tea and a conversation with the women could offer some distraction, if not answers.

She smiled lovingly at her relative, suddenly wishing she could go back in time to when she was a little girl. There was some resemblance between her aunt and her mother. Tabitha supposed if her mother had lived to be as old as Clara, she would look the same.

“Do you have any plans with Sally today?” Aunt Clara sipped her tea.

“Nothing at all. What could we have planned when we don’t know what North Devon holds for us to see?”

“Oh, my dear.” Aunt Clara gasped and met her companion’s stare. “We need to find someone to take our Tabitha and Sally on a sightseeing tour. Do you not agree?”

“Most assuredly.” Mrs. Stiles nodded so fast, her cap bounced on her head.

“Oh, I think I know just the person.” Aunt Clara placed her hand on her chest, sighed, and looked back at Tabitha. “I noticed last night that Mr. Jacobs was paying you extra attention. I’m sure he’d love to take you around town.”

Tabitha opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Stiles cut in.

“Oh, but Clara, dear…did you not see he has injured his leg? He was leaning on a crutch last night. I don’t think he would be the right man to escort our dear Tabitha around.”

Tabitha shook her head. “Mr. Jacobs is a very nice man, but I must agree with Mrs. Stiles.”

“Then that won’t do at all.” Aunt Clara huffed and folded her hands in her lap. “Bertha, dear? Who else do we know who could escort our girls around?”

Mrs. Stiles tapped a finger to her chin as she stared at the tea service on the table in front of them. Her forehead creased as her frown deepened.

Tabitha hurried and spoke before the companion could come up with another name. “Actually, I don’t believe Sally and I need to have an escort. We both love to walk, and we could wander through the town—”

“I have it!” Mrs. Stiles interrupted. Her face beamed with excitement as a smile stretched across her face. “What about Mr. Woodland? He would be a splendid tour guide. He’s only been here less than a year, but he walks everywhere, and he knows the town well.”

Tabitha’s thoughts came to a sudden halt. Mr. Woodland had lived in North Devon for less than a year? That couldn’t be right, especially when she’d met Lord Hawthorne in York approximately six months ago. So when Bertha said less than a year , what were the exact months?

Aunt Clara nodded, her ringlets shaking.

“Yes, Bertha. That’s the perfect choice.

” She looked back at Tabitha. “He’s such a wonderful man, and last night when he sang to me…

” She placed her hand on her bosom and sighed.

“What a lovely voice he has. Indeed, I could have listened to the two of you all night.”

“Actually”—Mrs. Stiles reached across the table and touched Aunt Clara’s arm—“the way it looked to me was that he was singing to our Tabitha.” She waggled her eyebrows.

Tabitha wanted to groan aloud, but refrained for now. “I must admit, Mr. Woodland is a very nice man, and yes, he does have a pleasant singing voice, but Sally and I don’t need an escort. I assure you, we shall be fine by ourselves.”

“Nonsense.” Aunt Clara flipped her hand in the air. “You will need someone who can assist you up and down the rocky slopes near the beach. I wouldn’t feel right if you tried to climb those hills without a man present. It’s very easy to slip and fall.”

“Oh, Aunt Clara…really.” Tabitha shook her head. “Must I keep reminding you, I’m not a pampered, genteel lady who can’t climb up and down? I’m used to hard labor, which means, I’m stronger than you think.”

“Tabitha dear, that’s not the point.” Aunt Clara sighed as her smile slowly faded. “You’re not a servant any longer, so why not allow a man to treat you like a lady? Now is a good time to start, you know.”

Tabitha wanted to throw her hands up in surrender. Obviously, arguing with her aunt wasn’t getting her anywhere. What a stubborn woman. And here Tabitha thought she was stubborn. Now she knew where she had inherited it.

“So, I do believe,” Aunt Clara continued, “that Mr. Woodland would be the best choice.”

Tabitha sat back on the sofa and folded her arms. “Tell me, Aunt Clara, what do you really know about Mr. Woodland?”

“I know quite a bit.”

“Such as?”

“He’s in his late twenties, or perhaps early thirties, and he was married, but his wife and child died during childbirth. He has a heart of gold, and he’s truly a messenger of God. This whole town is his family, and he would give the shirt off his back just to help someone in need.”

Tabitha frowned, her mind swirling with doubt.

Perhaps this man wasn’t Lord Hawthorne after all.

The possibility flickered in her thoughts, but it didn’t erase the lingering unease.

If he wasn’t Dominic, why did he resemble him so closely, and why did he behave in a way that stirred her memories and made her body shiver with the same awareness she had always felt around Lord Hawthorne?

Things simply didn’t add up. His mannerisms, his laugh, the way his eyes twinkled in that all-too-familiar way—it was all unsettling, as if she were standing on the edge of discovering something profound, yet the truth remained just out of reach.

If it wasn’t him, then who was he? And more importantly, what was the reason for this strange charade? Tabitha’s heart twisted with uncertainty, and she knew she wouldn’t find peace until she unraveled the mystery.

“Do you know if he has any relatives in York? He looks familiar to me, somehow.”

Both Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles glanced at each other and grinned. “He does have relatives in York,” Aunt Clara answered. “A few months ago, his cousin came for a visit.”

“What a nice gentleman.” Mrs. Stiles sighed. “And such a charmer, too. He was here for quite a few months, wasn’t he, Clara?”

Aunt Clara nodded. “Five, I believe, but he left not too long ago.”

“Who is his cousin?” Tabitha asked.

“He’s a lord.” Aunt Clara tapped her fingers on the table. “A marquess, I believe.”

“That he was, my dear.” Mrs. Stiles bobbed her head.

Tabitha’s heart picked up rhythm. What were the odds… “His name wouldn’t have been Lord Hawthorne, would it?”

Aunt Clara sighed. “Yes, that’s his name. Nice man, just like his cousin.”

“Oh, Clara dear, do you recall when Lord Hawthorne was the center of attention at Miss Julia’s birthday party?

” Mrs. Stiles chuckled. “The whole town celebrated her eighteenth birthday, and when Mr. Woodland arrived with his cousin, all the single women at the gathering were stuck to his side. I daresay the man is a bit of a charmer, and had all those women sighing. I’m quite sure they were all hoping he’d stay with his cousin for an indefinite amount of time, too. ”

Of course Hawthorne was a charmer. Tabitha gritted her teeth at the thought, the familiar frustration bubbling up.

It was painfully clear the man hadn’t changed one bit.

As Aunt Clara and Mrs. Stiles gossiped about Dominic’s various exploits, Tabitha had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

She didn’t want to hear about which woman he’d seduced recently, or which poor soul in town was foolishly hoping for an offer of marriage from him.

While the two older women chatted away, Tabitha took a moment to reflect.

Perhaps she was mistaken about Mr. Woodland.

If he and Dominic were truly cousins, it would explain the similar features—the resemblance that had unsettled her so much.

That could be why she had jumped to the conclusion that it was Nic.

It was a little eerie, though, how his eyes sparkled the same way, how he winked and laughed just like his cousin.

Perhaps that was why her mind had merged them into one man.

But what truly unsettled her wasn’t the resemblance—it was her body’s reaction to Mr. Woodland.

Before now, only Nic had ever made her feel so aware, so alive, with just a glance or a laugh.

Why was she feeling that same pull toward this man?

That was the question she couldn’t shake.

As much as she wanted to believe Mr. Woodland was just a clergyman, the way her body responded to him left her more confused than ever.