Page 26 of Her Scandalous Rake (The Worthington Legacy #8)

T ristan hitched his breath. We’re going to get caught.

He traded panic glances with Nic before motioning with his head toward the nearest room. As quietly as the two men could walk, they hurried on bare feet inside and closed the door. Tristan didn’t dare make a sound. He even held his blanket around his shoulders tighter for fear of accidentally dropping the covering.

The squeak from kitchen door opening alerted Tristan that they had just barely made it before being spotted. Pressing his ear against the wooden door, he held his breath.

“Who is out there?” Tabitha’s voice almost echoed through the empty corridor.

“I don’t see anyone,” Diana said as relief lightened her voice. “I suppose I was just hearing things.”

“Most likely that is what happened,” Tabitha answered. “The wind outside is still blowing strong. Perhaps that is what you heard.”

“I certainly hope so.”

As soon as the kitchen door squeaked again, Tristan quietly pulled up on the latch his hand had been gripping so tightly, opened the bedroom door, and peeked out. Tabitha and Diana had gone back inside the kitchen. His pounding heartbeat slowly returned to normal as he expelled a breath.

“Come,” Tristan whispered to Nic, “let’s return to the room before they realize we were listening.”

Nodding, Nic pulled the blanket tight around his body and hurried up the corridor behind Tristan toward the stairs.

“That was a close call,” Nic said as they reached the top of the stairs.

“Too close.” Tristan glanced over his shoulder at Nic. “But when I have my talk with Diana and she asks how I know, I will tell her I overheard her in the kitchen. Although she insists on holding the truth from me, I shall not do the same. I plan on being completely honest.”

“That’s the only way to be.”

“However,” Tristan paused once they reached the room and entered, “I need you to keep Tabitha occupied. I do not want anything to interrupt my talk with Diana.”

Nic rolled his eyes. “I shall try, but that woman can drive a man to drink, and I don’t know how much alcohol Lady Hollingsworth has in this small cottage for me to consume.”

“Then I suggest you ask her. You are very talented at holding your liquor and being charming at the same time.” Tristan grinned.

“Do not make light of this, Worthington.”

Fortunately, they hadn’t waited for Tabitha to collect their clothes, laying out to dry themselves. Nic marched to the fireplace and adjusted his clothes that had been draped over the chair to dry. Tristan followed and copied his friend’s actions. The quicker the garments dried, the more comfortable Tristan would feel.

“I have never met a woman like Diana’s maid,” Nic continued. “She acts as if I’m the one who is far beneath her station to even speak to me. When she does talk, nothing but disdain pours from her mouth.”

“That is certainly out of the ordinary. Whatever have you done to vex her so?”

“Nothing, I assure you.” Nic lifted his head and looked at Tristan. “The few times I’ve talked to her, she has been this way.” He shook his head. “I have never wronged her or caused her ill will, yet she treats me like I have made her life miserable.”

“Indeed, that is very strange behavior.”

“Quite right.”

“As it were… will you still help me out by keeping her occupied?” Tristan asked. “I don’t want her to accidentally hear her name in the conversation I have with Diana and come barging in to interrupt us.”

“Of course. I just pray your talk with Lady Hollingsworth doesn’t take too long. I fear I won’t know what to do if Tabitha upsets me more than she has done already.”

From out in the corridor, the stairs squeaked. Tristan swung his attention to the door. Mere moments later came a knock.

“Tristan? Are you still there?”

He walked to the door and opened it enough to poke his head out. “Yes, Diana.” He smiled, although he couldn’t feel the happiness inside him as he’d felt before when peering into her lovely face. “Where else would we be? There is no place for us to be since we are covered in blankets.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I suppose you are right.” She folded her arms. “I just came to check on you to see if you were undressed so we could take your clothes.”

“Actually, the fire is blazing well enough in here so we just draped our clothes over chairs and placed them in front of the hearth. There is no need to have Tabitha hang them up now.”

“Splendid. I shall tell her to continue helping in the kitchen.”

Diana didn’t say anymore, and neither did she move. Her gaze studied his face slowly, and soon guilt laced her eyes. She stepped closer and touched his cheek tenderly.

“Tristan, something is amiss. I can see it in your expression.” Her voice was low for their ears only. “You are worrying me by not telling me what is wrong.”

“Shh…” He reached out and clasped her hand with his. “I will explain, but not now. Wait until my clothes are dry first and I can dress completely before we talk.”

“I fear I cannot wait.”

“And I fear my dear,” he said with a chuckle, “that if I talk to you like this, my blanket might slip from around me and fall to the floor.” He shook his head. “What a scandal that would be, surely.”

The corner of her lips lifted into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I do understand your dilemma.” She released a long breath. “I shall try to be patient. And while I’m waiting, would you and Lord Hawthorne like me to bring up some port for you?”

“Port?” Nic said from behind him in a most anxious voice. “You have port?”

Tristan wanted to laugh, but refrained.

“Yes, Lord Hawthorne,” she answered in a louder voice.

“Then we shall certainly enjoy our port, thank you Diana.” Tristan smiled.

She turned and headed back down the stairs. He watched her as long as he could until she was out of his vision. His throat tightened with emotion, yet anger flared inside him at the same time.

He closed the door and stormed to the bed before plopping down. His head pounded in frustration and all he wanted to do was shake some sense into her. Yet touching her would make him want to pull her against him, hold her tight, and taste her sweet lips.

“Do you think she knows?” Nic asked.

“Yes.”

“What will you tell her?”

“I shall tell her what I suspect, what I feel, and what I think we should do about Tabitha.”

Nic walked away from the fireplace and to the window where he leaned his shoulder against the wall as he stared out into the rainy evening. “What will you do if she doesn’t agree?”

“I do not know,” Tristan answered in a whisper as he stared down at the blue and brown quilt on the bed. “As much as I love her and want to spend the rest of my life making her happy, I cannot have lies between us. I want to trust her. I want to believe she loves me more than her maid.” He looked up at his friend. “Is that selfish to think in such a way?”

“Not at all.” Nic drew his finger on the windowpane.

“Why then do I feel so guilty for making her choose?”

Shrugging, Nic looked Tristan’s way. “Probably because you are forcing her to make a decision. Yet, if you think about it, this is something Diana should have already decided. She knows right from wrong. If she knows Tabitha killed those two lords then Diana needs to do the right thing. Because Tabitha is her friend, Diana will need encouragement, which of course is where you will help out.”

Tristan groaned and covered his hands over his face. “Why is life so difficult? Why can it not be perfect all the time?”

A chuckle came from his friend. “You are asking me ? Sorry my good man, but I am not a man of the cloth who has all the Divine answers.”

The hilarity of Nic’s comment made Tristan grin and he dropped his hands. “So true. Out of all the professions in England, being a clergyman does not suit you, I’m afraid.”

“I agree.” Nic nodded. “So let’s not speak of this again for fear I will receive this calling from God as punishment for all the women I’ve wronged in my life. That is certainly something I do not want for my future.”

“The future,” Tristan muttered as a frown reclaimed his face. “What I would not give to know the future.”

“What we all would not give,” Nic said then leaned his head back against the wall. “Did you ever picture your life would be this way when you were younger?”

“No. For years I knew I would be the one brother who married for love, but now I see my other two brothers have beaten me to it. The one thing that has been driving me these past few years—since returning from the dead—was knowing I did not want to turn out like my father in any shape or form. Father died not long after I had fallen over the cliffs. He died alone and had many enemies, pretty much like Lord Hollingsworth and Elliot. Women hated them and others looked down on them.” He shook his head. “I do not want to end my life as they have.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Nic rubbed a hand over his arm. “Let’s pray neither of us end up in such a way.

Sighing heavily, Tristan stood and walked to the hearth to check his clothes. They weren’t as wet as before, but too damp to wear unfortunately. “At this point, I shall be happy to stay out of prison for a crime I did not commit. Proving my innocence is of utmost importance.”

Nic folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin. “Then starting tonight we will discover the truth.”

*

The snap of a log breaking in the fireplace was the only sound in the dining room. Chatter around the table was kept minimal and abnormally quiet for dinner. Both Tristan and Lord Hawthorne were fully clothed and eating as if they were half starved. Diana could only pick at her food as she studied Tristan’s withdrawn expression, her spirits sinking lower and lower. Even Lord Hawthorne acted as if he was not pleased with something.

Sally had taken her meal to her room for fear the two lords would recognize her somehow, although Diana didn’t think they would. Still, she allowed the maid to hide out in her bedchamber instead of helping to serve them.

Tabitha acted as the dutiful maid and served Diana and the men, but before she could return to the kitchen to eat, Lord Hawthorne had invited her to dine with them. Even Tristan had agreed. Diana could tell the invitation had shocked Tabitha—just as it had surprised Diana. Tabitha had complied, and joined them at the table, but the conversations were kept very limited and not personal at all.

Tristan acted differently today than he had the last time he visited this cottage or the last time they had talked before she’d left to come here. Deep in her heart, Diana knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

Diana stared at her stew as she stirred her spoon around the carrots and potatoes, and hadn’t looked up for a few minutes to see what everyone else was doing. It wasn’t until Tristan cleared his throat when she finally lifted her gaze and met his.

“I must say, this is a very good stew. Compliments to the cooks.”

Even though he smiled, Diana could see it was forced. Her heart clenched once again with worry.

“I agree,” Lord Hawthorne added. “It’s a shame Sally couldn’t eat with us.”

Something was definitely wrong! Diana could not believe Lord Hawthorne would say such a thing when he knew servants did not eat with their masters. “Well, Sally has been ill lately—”

“Sally is quite shy—” Tabitha said at the same time.

Both women quickly stopped and traded glances. Tabitha’s eyes were wide and she snapped her mouth tightly.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Diana recovered as she met Tristan’s suspicious stare. “Yes, Sally is a shy girl but she has felt under the weather lately.” She glanced at Lord Hawthorne. “I thank you for inquiring about her.”

Tristan set his spoon down and using a cloth napkin he wiped his mouth before placing it on the table next to the utensil. “Lady Hollingsworth? Are you ill yourself?” He took a quick glance at her bowl. “I have noticed you are not eating much.”

“I’m quite fine, I assure you. I’m just not that hungry, I suppose.”

“Then can I convince you to come with me into the parlor so we can talk in private?”

Her heartbeat raced, but not in excitement. This was it! He was going to tell her the dire news, yet now she realized she didn’t want to hear it. If his news was going to break her heart, she would just as well not talk to him at all.

But curiosity got the best of her and she nodded. “I would be glad to accompany you, my lord.”

He stood and walked around the table to her side and offered his hand. She graciously placed her hand in his and stood, gazing deep into his eyes—eyes that had no spark of love in them as they had only a few days ago. Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked as she tried to keep them from falling. She walked beside the man who held her heart—and would always hold her heart.

Not another word was spoken as they entered the parlor and he closed the door behind them. Keeping her hand with his, he led them to the sofa where they sat together—the same spot they’d been sitting when they had their talk after Tabitha had kidnapped him.

He turned at the waist toward her, taking both of her hands now. His thumbs gently stroked her knuckles as his attention focused on her face.

If he didn’t say something soon, she would not be able to hold back her tears. Yet he seemed content just to stare into her eyes and stroke her knuckles.

Swallowing the lump of emotion stuck in her throat, she took a deep breath for courage. “Tristan, the silence is killing me. Please say what is on your mind.”

He nodded. “I will. I’m just collecting my thoughts.”

“Tell me, have you changed your mind about me… about us being together?”

“No, I have not. Although, I fear you have.”

She wasn’t prepared to hear those words. She shook her head as a small throb started in her skull. “I don’t understand. Why would I change my mind?”

Tristan didn’t answer her right away, but once again he appeared deep in thought. Every second that passed made the creases on his forehead more profound. This time Diana let him think, all the while her heart raced with worry and she feared the worst. Had he found another woman to love? Was the scandal that had happened between them too much for him to bear?

Finally, after too much silence, Tristan expelled a heavy breath. “It has come to my attention that you might know the true identity of the person who killed your husband and Lord Elliot.”

All the thoughts speeding through her head came to a sudden halt and she gasped. “Pardon me? You think I know who killed my husband? Pray, enlighten me, because I can assure you, I do not know such a thing.”

The rubbing of her knuckles stopped, but he didn’t release her hands. “Diana, please be honest with me. If we are to have a relationship it must be based on trust. You can trust me. I am nothing like Hollingsworth, I assure you.”

Confusion filled her and she shook her head. “I fear your words are most alarming, and I know not what they mean. Indeed, you are nothing like Ludlow, and I can assure you that I trust you with my life and heart.”

“Then why do you hold the truth from the magistrate about the killer? The longer you put off telling him, the longer we have to wait until we can be together.”

She pulled a hand from his and rubbed the pound in her forehead. “Please, Tristan. Tell me what you are talking about, because you have me most confused. What am I withholding from the magistrate or from you?”

“The identity of the murderer.”

Frustration filled her and made her jittery. She stood and moved toward the fireplace. “Do you not think I would tell the magistrate if I knew? I assure you, if I knew their identity, I would say something. I want to be with you without anyone being suspicious.” Stopping, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Why do you believe I know this person’s identity?”

“Diana, I overheard you speaking with Tabitha and Sally while you were cooking. I had come down from the room and heard you outside the kitchen door. I dared not enter because I could not believe what all of you were saying.” Slowly he stood and made his way to her side. “Diana, I really think Tabitha is the one who killed your husband and my cousin.”

Shocked, a loud gasp escaped her throat before she could stop it. “Pardon me? You believe Tabitha… my Tabitha is a murderer?”

“Indeed, the same. Is there another Tabitha?”

Although their conversation was not comical, she couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up from her chest. “You honestly think Tabitha killed Ludlow and Elliot? I can assure you, my lord, that you are sadly mistaken.”

“You can assure me? How so, may I ask?”

Her mind scrambled for a reason to give, but she couldn’t come up with one. She just knew her friend—a friend she had known for years and considered a sister—could not have done such a thing.

Or could she?

Shaking the negative thought from her mind, she frowned and glared at Tristan. “How dare you accuse Tabitha?”

“Oh, I dare.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Especially when I heard her confession of wanting to kill Ludlow and Elliot. You were in the room with her, did you not hear her say those very words?”

“Well, yes, but…” She shook her head. “She was not confessing to a murder, she was voicing her thoughts. She, along with Sally, has every right to hate men like my husband and your cousin. If I have withheld anything from you, it’s this…” She took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Because of Ludlow’s treatment toward me, I cannot abide men like that abusing their servants, or their wives. There are many of us in England, Tristan. Were you aware of that? Even Lady Dashwood was abused not only by her husband, but her father. Together Claudia and I have taken it upon ourselves to rescue these women from their most unfortunate situations. Tabitha and Sally are no more killers than Claudia and I are.”

Tristan stared at her as his frown intensified. Anger filled her quickly as she continued, “Tristan, it hurts me that you cannot trust me. Do you honestly believe that I would become friends with a murderer? Tabitha may have hard feelings for men who beat women, but she is not a killer just because she has thought about it. I had thoughts about wanting my husband dead, so does that make me a murderer in your eyes?”

“No,” he said in almost a whisper.

“So then why do you think that about Tabitha?”

“Because everything adds up,” he explained. “Tabitha’s anger toward men is the key, Diana. Have you not noticed how she acts toward Hawthorne?”

“Well yes, but that doesn’t prove—”

“I have not met one woman who hasn’t nearly swooned when Hawthorne smiles at them, yet Tabitha does the opposite of most women and throws perpetual invisible daggers at him. Not only that, but she is devoted to you. She will do anything to protect you, Diana… even kill. And because she was beaten, I would not judge her for wanting those men dead.” He stepped closer. “Tell me, where was Tabitha the night Hollingsworth was found stabbed to death?”

Tears swam in Diana’s eyes but she refused to let them fall. “She was here at the cottage. Two days prior to my husband’s death, I had taken Tabitha out of Lord Elliot’s house because he had beaten her severely.”

“So, in her condition, would she have been able to travel without her master stopping her?”

Diana scowled. “You cannot be serious! Tristan, have you ever seen a beaten woman? Her eyes were swollen nearly closed, and she had bruises all over her body. She was as weak as a kitten.”

Tristan exhaled a frustrated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, Diana, forgive me. I’m just trying to piece things together. I’m so sorry that Tabitha was hurt by my cousin, and I wish I had known so I could have stopped it.” He shook his head. “I’m just trying to make sense of all of this. I have a gut feeling that Tabitha is the killer, she has motive, and I fear I cannot shake that from my mind.”

She fisted her hands by her side as she thought back to that day. “You are just going to have to try, Tristan, because Tabitha did not do it!” A tear slipped down her face. Sadness washed over her, but not because she thought her maid guilty, but because she didn’t know how to change his mind. “Tristan, how can I make you believe? Do you not trust me ?”

He met her gaze and nodded. “I do, my sweet Diana, but I fear your love for the maid has clouded your judgment.”

“I assure you, it has not.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice pleading.

“I want you to put this insane idea out of your head and help me try to figure out who the real killer is.”

He reached out and grasped her hands, but she quickly jerked them away. Taking a step closer to her, he ran his palms up and down her arms slowly.

“I fear, I cannot. Deep inside me, I feel Tabitha is the one. Everything points to her.” He stroked her cheek. “My love, can you not trust my feelings?”

“I have trusted you so far, Tristan, and although I will always love you, I fear I cannot let you turn Tabitha in to the magistrate. If you try, I promise, I will do everything in my power to stop you.”

He remained silent, but his expression told her his thoughts. It was too late. She couldn’t change his mind.

Heartbroken, Diana turned away. Obviously, his love for her didn’t run as deep as hers. Now the question was, could she free him from her heart as he had done from his?