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Slowly, a smile tugged on Tabitha’s mouth and she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. Mrs. Stiles acted like she hadn’t had anyone to talk with for ages. Tabitha sincerely hoped her great-aunt wasn’t so old that she couldn’t keep her companion entertained.

They entered a room, and she set the trunk on the floor.

Mrs. Stiles swept her hand around the spacious room. “I hope this suits you.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.” Tabitha nodded.

Indeed, the room was perfect. As someone who had spent years as a maid, Tabitha had grown accustomed to cramped quarters and sparse furnishings.

But ever since her brothers had moved her into a townhouse of her own, her surroundings had changed dramatically.

While this room wasn’t quite as large as the one in her townhouse, it was far more beautifully decorated.

Soft pinks and lavender hues blended seamlessly with daffodil-yellow accents, creating a cheerful and inviting atmosphere.

The large window, framed by delicate white curtains pulled back to let the sunlight flood in, bathed the room in warmth and brightness.

The space felt light, airy, and full of life—an instant remedy to lift her spirits.

Tabitha smiled to herself, knowing that this room would indeed cheer her up, offering her a sense of comfort and tranquility she hadn’t realized she needed.

“I pray you and your maid will stay here for a while,” Mrs. Stiles continued.

“Clara is very happy to talk to you again. She can’t wait to introduce you to all of her friends at the party tonight.

” The older woman stepped closer to Tabitha and grinned as she waggled her eyebrows.

“And don’t be surprised if your aunt tries to find you a man.

You know, that’s what women do when we get older.

We want to see you lovely young ladies find a good man to marry. ”

Immediately, Tabitha’s excitement dimmed.

She had truly hoped her aunt wouldn’t go as far as trying to find her a husband.

A relationship was the last thing she wanted.

Too much had happened recently, leaving her wary—fearful, even—of men.

Trust didn’t come easily anymore, and it had taken her a long time to even trust her brothers.

But they were different, exceptional in their kindness and understanding.

The thought of finding another man like them felt impossible.

Somehow, she needed to convince Aunt Clara to abandon the idea of matchmaking.

Tabitha wasn’t ready for romance, and she doubted any man could possess the qualities she needed to heal the wounds of her past. Yet, as she stood there, a troubling thought crept in: what if fate had already set a plan in motion—one she couldn’t avoid, no matter how hard she tried to resist?

*

The day couldn’t have gone better.

Dominic carefully dusted a little more white powder onto his hair, adding the finishing touches to his disguise for Mrs. Burls’ party that evening.

Stepping back from the full-length mirror, he allowed himself a satisfied smile.

His transformation into Frederick was seamless.

Throughout the day, everyone he had encountered believed he was his cousin, their only surprise being Frederick’s apparent weight loss after his recent illness .

Not one person seemed suspicious, and that was exactly the result Frederick had hoped for.

Earlier in the day, while Nic was at the church, Frederick had discreetly joined him in the office to discuss the remaining church inventory.

Nic had been secretly relieved when the heavens didn’t smite him for entering the holy sanctuary in disguise, so he wasted no time getting to work.

Together, they reviewed a detailed list of everything stored in the church’s back room.

According to Frederick’s calculations, nothing had gone missing in the two weeks since the last robbery—the very night before they had swapped identities.

That night, the thief had made off with a statue of the Mother Mary and several gold candlesticks.

Nic couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight’s party might offer a critical clue about the thief’s next move. As he straightened his jacket and prepared to leave, he wondered if the real culprit was among the very people he was about to mingle with.

Frederick, a compassionate and forgiving man of God, couldn’t bring himself to believe that anyone in his parish would be capable of stealing from the church.

His faith in his congregation ran deep, even though he had only known most of them for about a year.

But Nic was more skeptical. After spending weeks in hiding while growing his beard for the disguise, he had carefully observed the people of the parish and compiled a list of men he suspected might be involved in the thefts.

When he presented the list to his cousin, Frederick had chuckled, shaking his head at the notion.

He patiently explained why each man couldn’t possibly be the culprit, dismissing the idea as unnecessary suspicion.

But Nic wasn’t so quick to write them off.

He knew human nature could be far more complicated than his cousin’s forgiving heart allowed.

Nic’s instincts told him that something more sinister was at play, and until he could prove otherwise, those names would remain firmly on his list of suspects.

The truth, Nic suspected, was closer than anyone dared to admit.

A knock came upon the bedroom door. Nic pulled away from the full-length mirror and turned toward the door. “Enter.”

Frederick walked in, holding a small box that had been wrapped. “Give this to Mrs. Burls. It’s my gift to her.”

Nic took the package and nodded. “What did you get her?”

“I purchased a musical jewelry box for her a few months past while we were visiting Devonshire. The song playing in the box is her favorite. I know she’ll be very happy with this.”

“I’m certain she will.” Nic set the gift on the table next to the washbasin, picked up his coat, and shrugged into it. “Is there anything special I need to do at this party tonight?”

“Not really. Just mingle and mention how much God loves them.” Frederick shrugged. “That’s what I do, anyway.”

Nic arched an eyebrow. “So I’m assuming there won’t be any liquor at this party?”

Frederick rolled his eyes. “Hawthorne, my good man, you are a man of the cloth now. Please remember that. Also keep in mind that drinking is something I would never do.”

“I know, I know.” Nic set the hat on his head before grabbing his walking stick.

“And even if there is liquor at this party,” Frederick added, “you will not take a drink. Is that clear?”

Chuckling, Nic walked past his cousin as he headed out of the room. “Very clear. I know my character, and I’ll act accordingly.”

Frederick followed Nic down the stairs toward the front door. “Well, you had better keep in the clergyman character. The last thing I need is for you to give an eighty-year-old woman heart palpitations because she sees a man of God becoming intoxicated.”

“Little do you know, dear cousin”—Nic opened the door and stepped outside—“that I rarely drink enough to become foxed.” He bowed. “Have a pleasant evening, as I shall try to have.”

Although he couldn’t see Frederick, he could practically feel his cousin’s watchful eyes on him as he strolled down the street toward the edge of town.

He imagined Frederick standing there with his arms crossed, a wary gleam in his eyes, no doubt concerned about where this latest plan would lead them both.

Nic, determined to shake off the tension, whistled a lighthearted tune, hoping it would lift his spirits before he reached the elderly woman’s home.

When he first arrived in North Devon, he had eagerly anticipated the peace and tranquility that country life promised.

After all, the bustling social scene of Mayfair and York had kept him busy, though not quite as tangled up as his close friends, Trey, Trevor, and Tristan Worthington.

Especially Tristan, who had been embroiled in chaos when he was wrongly suspected of murdering the man who had married the woman Tristan once loved.

Nic shook his head at the memory. What a fiasco.

Thankfully, all of that turmoil was behind them.

Each of the Worthington brothers had found love, and now their lives were filled with the happiness they so richly deserved.

Nic couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief for his friends, even if his own life remained a tangle of secrets and deceptions.

As he approached Mrs. Burls’ cottage, that flicker of unease lingered.

He had left the whirlwind of Mayfair behind, but the quiet countryside of North Devon had its own secrets to reveal.

Yet, despite the mystery of the church thefts and his role in uncovering the culprit, he couldn’t help but feel that his life had become dreadfully dull.

The excitement and energy of city life had evaporated, leaving him restless.

Even the thrill of pretending to be his cousin had lost its novelty.

He silently hoped that they would catch the thief soon so he could return home to the bustling life he loved.

He couldn’t fathom how Frederick found contentment in the slow rhythm of country living.

The charm of the countryside was pleasant enough for a brief visit, but Nic longed for the energy and unpredictability of home.