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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 horsewhipped, in her opinion.

She couldn’t tolerate men who had no respect for women.

Then there were men like Lord Hawthorne, who behaved exactly opposite, but were 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.

She finally convinced herself that the clergyman reminded her of Dominic so much that she saw similarities which 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 as 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. It is definitely a relaxing place—compared to York, anyway.”

“I agree.” Tabitha linked her hands together at her back 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 eye, she noticed one other person out walking.

She stopped and studied the man as he grew closer by the second.

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. 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 cocksure marquess she 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 it were there.

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 that 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 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 reminded you of an old man with no teeth.”

A laugh sprang from her mouth. That was the kind of arrogant thing 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 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 Marquess 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 elicit 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.

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 whom 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 that he would think of himself as charming.

The roguish 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.”