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?
Chapter Eighteen
Nic kept his wary eyes on Tabitha. After Tristan and Lady Hollingsworth had left the room, Tabitha started cleaning up the dishes and taking them into the kitchen. He didn’t want her out of his sight, so he helped her. She arched a curious eyebrow at him, but didn’t say anything as she went into the kitchen.
They were both far enough away from the parlor where Tristan and Lady Hollingsworth were having their talk that Tabitha couldn’t eavesdrop on them without Nic knowing, and while she cleaned the dishes, he knew she wouldn’t be trying to get away from him.
But she was nearly done, and he had a feeling that she would make her move at any minute now.
Once she wiped and put away the last dish, she remained by the cupboard with her back toward him. She didn’t move, except for when she inhaled deeply. From this view, he couldn’t tell if she were angry or just flustered. Knowing Tabitha, she was angry.
“My lord, I wish you would stop staring at me as if I were a dish of sweetmeats.”
After they’d been in silence for so long, it was refreshing to hear her voice. “And how do you know I’m staring?”
“Because I’m not a fool, my lord. What else would you look at in the kitchen?” Slowly, she turned and faced him, but stayed by the cupboard. She folded her arms and arched an eyebrow. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to stay and entertain you while Lady Hollingsworth and Lord Tristan are in the other room.”
“Actually,” he said rising from his chair, “that’s exactly what I expect. The night is still early, and I don’t wish to retire to my room.” He shrugged. “So I suppose the two of us should do something to pass the time.”
“The two of us will do nothing, my lord. My plans are to check on Sally and visit with her. What you do with your time is not my concern.”
She stepped toward the door, but he quickened his step and reached the spot, blocking her escape. “Oh, my lovely Miss Tabitha. I have been looking forward all evening to spending time with you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I fear that your idea of spending time with me does not meet with my approval. I know what you really want, Lord Hawthorne, and if you cannot recall our last conversation, let me remind you that I do not find you interesting in the least. Your twinkling eyes and knee-weakening grins will not charm me as they have done with other ladies.”
Slowly, a grin stretched his mouth. He stepped closer to her, running the tips of his fingers across her cheek. “You think I have twinkling eyes and a charming grin, do you? How very sweet of you to notice.”
Groaning, she smacked his hand away. “I did not mean it that way, my lord. Quit putting words in my mouth.”
“Oh, my lovely, I don’t need to put words in your mouth at all. You are doing just fine with that on your own. In fact, I still consider our conversations very stimulating.”
Her jaw tightened and her fisted hands were turning white. “Please let me pass, Lord Hawthorne.”
Nic struggled to keep a charming composure. It was hard to think of her as a killer when she looked so beautiful when you’re angry. Her blue eyes were dark with passionate malice, yet he was still drawn to her. Heaven help him, he still wanted to see what it felt like with her locked in his embrace while he kissed her to distraction.
Good grief, what was he thinking? Indeed, she was a woman who would drive him to drink, and he had the sudden urge for a bottle of strong spirits right now.
“Could I indulge you to give me a few more minutes?” he begged, hating the fact that he’d been reduced to this level. “I really would like your company. I promise not to give you any of my charming grins, and I will try my hardest not to have my eyes twinkle.” He tried to be serious, but it was in his nature to flirt with beautiful women.
She’s a killer, he reminded himself. Unfortunately, his subconscious wasn’t listening because he still wanted to hold her and see if passion was as evident in her kiss as it was when she argued.
Soon the lines of anger on her forehead and round her mouth disappeared and she nodded. “Shall we adjourn to the sitting room, then?”
“Splendid idea.” He smiled and held out an arm for her.
Her attention moved to what he offered as a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Lord Hawthorne, you do not have to escort me. I assure you, I can walk to the room just fine on my own.”
He opened the door and motioned his hand. “Then lead the way, my lovely.”
As he followed her into the other room, he enjoyed watching the way her gray gown molded to her womanly curves. He admired the lift of her stubborn chin, and took pleasure in studying the way her brown hair swept up into a coil, leaving him ample view of her slender neck. A neck he wouldn’t mind kissing…
Stop this! He silently scolded his thoughts as he searched the room for a decanter of spirits. Once she closed the door, she turned toward him but didn’t say a word. As before, familiarity nudged in the back of his mind. He knew her from somewhere, and until he remembered, it would drive him mad.
“My lord, would you like a drink?”
Thought you’d never ask! “Indeed, I would, Miss Tabitha.”
She moved over to the liquor tray and
poured him a drink. “All Lady Hollingsworth has is port. I hope that will do.”
“It will, thank you.” He took the glass from her then nodded to the decanter. “Are you not going to have a glass?”
“Servants don’t drink with their masters.”
“Well, since I’m not your master and you did very little to conform with propriety, I think it’s appropriate. Besides, this evening we shall be equals.”
She chuckled and poured herself a drink. “Equals, my lord? I’m surprised at your behavior this evening. I’m most certain if your fellow comrades were here witnessing this, you would not be acting in such a way.”
“True, I would not. But it’s just you and I here now, so why can we not pretend to be civil to each other?”
Shrugging, she carried her glass over to the sofa and sat. He followed and sat beside her, drinking his port. Daintily, she sipped her glass as she looked at him from over the rim. In one word, she was adorable, and he wished he didn’t think that way of her.
“Tell me, Miss Tabitha. Where did you grow up? Have I ever met you before?”
“Believe it or not, most of my younger years were spent right here in this cottage.” Her gaze moved slowly around the room. “Lady Hollingsworth’s grandmother lived here and my mother was her personal maid.” She returned his attention back to him. “So unless you came here to visit, we would have never met.”
“You said you were here in your younger years. What age were you when you left?”
“I was sixteen, my lord.”
“So where have you been since then?”
She lifted the glass to her mouth again, taking her time in drinking the port. Nic wondered why she hesitated, unless she was trying to think up a lie.
“I was a laundry maid for a man who was cruel to me. After he died, Lady Hollingsworth took me in.”
Tilting his head, he studied her. Up this close, he could get lost staring into her lovely eyes. “You are not going to tell me the lord’s name?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Lord Hawthorne, I can assure you we have never met before. I don’t believe it’s any of your business who I used to work for, and the only reason you ask is because you think you know me from somewhere. I can promise you, we have never met before. Because I was a laundry maid, I was never allowed to be around my master’s guests.”
The Sweetest Love (Sons of Worthington Series) Page 20
