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Just before she reached the other ladies, she peeked at him over her shoulder. His heart leapt and his grin widened. Knowing she cared about him—whether or not she realized she cared—gave him the courage he needed to go outside and face the worried crowd.

Nic glanced around the room, hoping to find a Bible. Thankfully, the doc had one on the small table by the bed. Before leaving, Nic picked up the book and headed toward the front doors. With his head held high, confidence grew inside him.

Tabitha was one very special lady. She really did have a giving heart.

She didn’t have to think before telling him what to say, as if that particular subject had been utmost in her mind.

She’d definitely make a clergyman a fine wife.

In fact, Nic should suggest such a match to his cousin. Frederick would make her happy…

Something in Nic’s gut twisted and a wave of sickness came over him.

Bitterness coated his tongue, and he couldn’t figure out why this had come upon him all at once.

He hadn’t eaten anything for a few hours.

Hopefully, he wasn’t getting sick. He placed his palm on his forehead.

He didn’t have a fever. So then why had he felt this ill all of a sudden?

He’d been just fine until imagining Frederick and Tabitha married…

His stomach lurched again. Now he realized what had caused this. Chuckling, he shook his head. No, this couldn’t be right. He didn’t have those feelings for Tabitha. For heaven’s sake, she and Frederick would be the perfect match.

Yet, the more he pondered the idea, the more he didn’t want to see her on the arm of his cousin, presenting herself as Mrs. Woodland. Instead, he could picture her on his arm, as he introduced her as the Marchioness of Hawthorne.

He snorted a laugh. Impossible!

*

Tabitha didn’t know who David was, but her heart still wrenched for these people who knew him as one of their own.

She found her friends closer to the front of the house this time, off more to the side of the porch.

Mrs. Stiles sniffed as tears streamed from her eyes.

Sally stood next to the older woman, patting her arm.

All around her, the townsfolk were reacting the same way as her aunt’s companion.

Indeed, it was a shock that someone could murder a young man and bury him in the sand.

The only two men Tabitha knew who had been murdered had not been good men at all, and in her mind, they’d deserved what fate had brought them.

She highly doubted David’s death was the same.

She could tell this young man was well-liked.

“Oh, such a tragedy,” Mrs. Stiles muttered brokenly into her handkerchief.

Just as Mr. Burris finished his speech about how he would continue to look for the person responsible, the front door opened and out walked Nic.

She really should not want to laugh right now, but seeing him in his clergyman clothing and holding a Bible, just made her want to chuckle to her heart’s content. If these people only knew…

Taking a deep breath, she tried to rein in her humor. If she even cracked a smile, the townspeople would think she didn’t have a heart.

Nic stood against the outer wall until Mr. Burris was finished, and then Nic stepped up.

Although his shoulders were straight and his chin was lifted slightly, she could see there was something amiss about him.

Almost as if the color of his face had a green tint to it.

She blinked, thinking that the sun must be playing with her vision.

“My dear friends,” Nic began solemnly, “please know that God is with you…with all of us during this terrible time. He knows what is in our hearts, and he wishes to comfort us, as eh…um, like a…” He paused, his expression clouding with panic.

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 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, and 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 convinced her aunt that Mr. Woodland was a match made in heaven?