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N ic couldn’t stop staring into Tabitha’s eyes.

There for a moment, he truly believed he’d softened her heart.

She enjoyed music just as he did, and he couldn’t believe how much the thought thrilled him.

But within seconds, the passion left her amazing blue eyes and they dulled with loathing.

It would certainly take some time to convince her he wasn’t the man she’d believed he was.

“That was just beautiful,” Mrs. Burls proclaimed as she entered the room, clapping. “You two sing perfectly together.”

He quickly stood and moved to her, taking her hand and helping her to the sofa. “You are most kind, Mrs. Burls, but I can tell you, Miss Tabitha’s voice only makes mine sound better.” He took a quick glance at Tabitha who rolled her eyes.

“Well, nonetheless, it was a joy to hear you two sing together.” Mrs. Burls smiled. “Sit down with me, Mr. Woodland. Dinner is almost ready, and I would like us to chat awhile before we eat. I’m so very glad you accepted my invitation to dine with us tonight.”

“I was very happy to accept.”

Tabitha went to the chair farthest away from his and sat. No longer did she have a pleasant expression on her face, but instead, her smile looked forced. “I was just telling your niece,” he added, “that she is very talented, not only on the pianoforte, but with her singing.”

“That, she is.” Mrs. Burls nodded.

“Did she have many lessons as a child?” he enquired, still curious to know how a mere maid could not only sing so well, but also learn to play.

She’d mentioned Lady Mathis taught her, but it almost seemed impossible.

Deep in his gut, he knew Tabitha was hiding something from him, and he was eager to learn the truth.

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Burls puffed her chest proudly. “I taught her a small amount, but the rest of her learning came from her mother and the lady they worked for, Lady Mathis.”

He took another peek in Tabitha’s direction. She’d arched her eyebrow and gave him a look that told him, I told you so. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” he said. “Your niece is one gifted woman.”

Mrs. Stiles chose that moment to come in and announce, “Dinner is ready.”

“Splendid,” Mrs. Burls cheered. “I’m famished.”

Nic stood and offered his arm to the older woman, helping her out of the sofa.

Once she was standing, he turned to Tabitha and offered his other arm to her.

Indecision played on her expression for a few moments, but finally she shrugged and hooked her hand around his elbow.

Feeling like the luckiest man in the world, he escorted both ladies into the small dining room.

Keeping in his role as a gentleman, he seated Mrs. Burls first, then turned and pulled out the chair for Tabitha.

She mumbled thank you as she took the seat.

He sincerely hoped she was warming up to him. He couldn’t understand why she would act this way around the clergyman, unless it was because he reminded her of Lord Hawthorne, the man she just loved to hate.

Dinner passed with idle chit-chat, mainly between him and Mrs. Burls and Mrs. Stiles.

Once in a while Tabitha said something, but not enough in his opinion.

He wanted nothing more than to stare into her eyes as the lamplight made the cobalt color shimmer like silk.

Unfortunately, every time he glanced at her, she was either looking down at her plate or throwing him a glare.

It disturbed him that she would act this way, especially when he pretended to be a man of God.

He also wondered if she truly knew his identity.

But what hurt most was knowing that he had damaged her so much that she could not forgive him.

One way or another, he had to soften her until she forgave.

He couldn’t live with himself if she didn’t.

The meal had come to an end, but Mrs. Burls and her companion kept him at the table as they told stories of years gone by. He smiled politely, but inwardly, he wanted to return home. Frederick was having all the fun, sneaking out at night to spy on people. That’s what Nic wanted to do.

Tabitha excused herself from the table. He stood and nodded to her. “Good night, Miss Tabitha.”

“Good night, Mr. Woodland,” she muttered before leaving.

As he sat, he noticed Mrs. Burls frowning and shaking her head. He felt like doing the same thing but refrained.

“I wish I knew what to do about her,” Mrs. Burls said. “I thought she would be happy here, but today she has been so distant.”

“Does she still live in York?” he asked.

“Yes, but I fear she is not happy there, either.”

“Might I enquire to what she does in York? I mean, does she still work for Lady Diana Worthington?”

Mrs. Burls’ eyes widened. “How do you know about Lady Worthington?”

He could have kicked himself for not thinking first. Quickly, he thought of an excuse. “My cousin, Lord Hawthorne, told me the story. After all, he was close with Lady Worthington.”

The older woman nodded. “Yes, Tabitha did work for Lady Worthington, but she doesn’t now. Tabitha no longer works for anyone.”

Confusion clouded his mind. That didn’t make any sense. How could a maid survive if she didn’t work? “She doesn’t?”

“Of course not, Mr. Woodland,” Mrs. Stiles cut in. “She has been on her own since she discovered—”

“Mrs. Stiles.” Mrs. Burls tapped her companion on the hand and shook her head. “Perhaps we should let Tabitha tell it. My niece’s discovery is not our news to share.”

Mrs. Stiles nodded. “That’s correct.” She met Nic’s curious gaze. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I should not say anymore.”

Frustration grew inside him. What was going on?

What had Tabitha discovered? Did it have something to do with what happened six months ago?

Nic mentally berated himself for losing touch with Tristan and Trey after he’d come to North Devon.

At least those two friends would have known what happened to Tabitha.

First thing tomorrow, Nic would send a letter to Tristan and Trey, and ask about Tabitha.

“No need to apologize.” He smiled at Mrs. Stiles. “I understand completely.” He now couldn’t wait to get home and get started writing that letter. He pushed away from the table and stood. “This has been a very lovely evening, but I must be returning home.”

Mrs. Burls dabbed the linen napkin to her mouth. “I thank you again for coming to dinner. Have a good evening.”

“And I hope you do as well.” He bowed to her and Mrs. Stiles before leaving the room. Just before reaching the front door, he picked up his hat and cane that he’d left on the small table. He walked outside and closed the door behind him.

The night air was cool this evening as normal for the early spring weather.

He bundled the collar of his coat around his neck and stepped away from the house.

As he neared the largest tree in front of the yard, he noticed a movement.

He slowed his gait and narrowed his gaze as he came closer.

The image became clearer as the woman in a beige fur cloak moved from around the tree to face him.

“I know who you are, Lord Hawthorne.”

*

Tabitha had wanted to keep his identity to herself, but after what had happened in the music room and during dinner, she realized she couldn’t carry on this farce any longer. She must let him know, and ask him to please leave her alone.

So maybe she wouldn’t actually be as polite as she’d rehearsed it in her mind, but one way or another, he’d know her feelings tonight. Then perhaps she’d be able to sleep.

Even through the shadows, she could see the stunned look on his face. His mouth hung open, but no words were forthcoming. He would try to deny it. After all, he was a man who got caught and didn’t want to accept his punishment for doing wrong.

Just like most every man she’d ever met. The only exception was her half-brothers.

Soon, he heaved a sigh and straightened his shoulders. “What gave away my secret?”

Her brain stopped functioning. He was actually going to confess? Where was the denial she’d been waiting for, and preparing to rebut?

Clearing her throat, she nodded. “There were many things that gave your true identity away. Unfortunately, I’m the only one who noticed since these people don’t know you as I do.”

“Enlighten me anyway. I tried hard to be my cousin, so I’d like to know where I went wrong.”

She folded her arms, wishing she’d chosen a warmer night to confront him outside and in the shadows.

“At first it was your famous wink and the twinkle in your eyes. Then this morning when you were all wet, I could tell you had powdered your hair because the white color was gone. This evening when you had called me my lovely, is when I knew for certain that you were Lord Hawthorne.”

He smiled. “Ah, yes. I recall now how you used to scold me for calling you my lovely. ”

“But it had somehow slipped your mind while playing a clergyman?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it was because deep down inside my heart, I had wanted to tell you the truth but knew I couldn’t.”

“Why can’t you?” Her heartbeat quickened. Apparently, there was a reason he pretended to be his cousin.

He glanced around the yard, then out into the street as if looking for someone. When his attention returned to her, he shook his head. “I cannot tell you out here. Who knows who else might be listening? We should talk, but somewhere private.”

At first, she wanted to agree with him, until realizing that was exactly what he wanted her to do. She couldn’t forget what kind of man he was and how he twisted everything around just to get his way. “No.”

“No?” His eyebrows rose.

“I don’t want to meet you in private. Tell me here. Now.”

Sighing, he folded his arms. “Then I guess you will never know my deep, dark secret, will you?”

She gasped. “Are you telling me that you’re not going to say anything?”

“Not unless you agree to meet me somewhere in private. Not only am I thinking of your safety, but my cousin’s secret, as well.”

“What does your cousin have to do with anything?”

“I’m playing him, am I not?” He took a step closer to her and lowered his voice. “My cousin has everything to do with this, since trading places was his idea.” He came closer again. “Do you honestly believe I enjoy pretending to be a clergyman?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, I don’t think you would enjoy it at all.”

“Exactly. So if I’m not doing it for my own entertainment, I’m doing it to help someone.”

“All right, I understand now.”

He came closer and leaned against the tree.

She wished he would have stayed where he was when she’d first stopped him.

Experience had taught her that being this close to him was dangerous.

She could smell him, and the lemon tart he’d had for dessert was still on his breath.

His cologne was still the same musky scent as what had been branded in her memory.

“Please meet me in private?” he whispered. “We have much to talk about.”

“ If I meet you in private, the only thing we’ll be discussing is why you are in disguise.”

“Are you sure?” He lifted his hand to her face and his fingers gently stroked her cold cheek. “If I remember correctly, our conversations always became a little…heated.”

Warmth from his fingers melded into her skin. Suddenly, it became hard to breathe. Although she welcomed the temperature from his hand because she was cold, she didn’t welcome the way it came. She pushed his hand aside. “Lord Hawthorne, please don’t touch me like that.”

“As you wish.” He dropped his hand back to his side. “So, what do you say? Are you going to meet me or not? Or shall we stay out here shivering in the cold while we argue?”

She was relieved that he remembered about their arguments. “Fine, I’ll meet you.”

“Splendid. I know a small abandoned cottage up the street that overlooks the north-side cliffs. Meet me there at noon and we’ll have lunch together. I’ll have someone prepare our meal.”

Frowning, she folded her arms again. “We are just meeting there to talk, remember?”

“What’s wrong with eating while we’re talking?”

She grumbled and shook her head. “Fine. I’ll try to find where the cottage is located.”

“It’s easy, because the yard and house are in need of repairs. You cannot miss it.”

She pulled the neck of the fur-lined cloak up around her ears. “Then I shall see you tomorrow at noon, my lord.”

She turned, but he grasped her elbow, stopping her. He now stood straight and very close to her body. Tilting her head, she peered up into his shadowed eyes.

“Tabitha, I really wish you would call me Dominic…or Nic. While we’re in North Devon, I’m not Lord Hawthorne.”

“But you’re not Mr. Woodland, either.”

“Actually, I am, so please don’t treat me as anyone else. At least in public. In private I would like you to call me by my given name.” He stroked her cheek again. “Promise me you’ll do that?”

Tingles shot through her because now the warmth was mixed with his cologne and sweet words. He was definitely getting harder to resist, but she must. “While we are in public, I promise to treat you like the clergyman,” she whispered.

He didn’t move for several moments, just content to stare into her eyes.

Curse him, because his gaze penetrated deep inside her and entranced her, and she couldn’t look away.

She couldn’t even pull away. All she could do was hold her breath and pray he didn’t try to kiss her.

For certain, she wouldn’t be able to resist him now.

Slowly, the corners of his mouth lifted into a grin. “Have a pleasant evening, Tabitha.”

He turned and walked away as if nothing happened.

She grabbed the tree for support. What had happened to her knees?

The cold must have numbed them somehow. She definitely needed to get inside, and she definitely needed to clear her head and put back the thoughts that should have been in there to begin with, but had somehow disappeared.

Tomorrow she would be on guard and prepare herself for his charming seduction. She vowed he would not win!