The Sweetest Love (Sons of Worthington Series) (30 page)

Tabitha’s gentle hand stroked Diana’s head. “Tell me what happened.”

It took her a few minutes to collect her strength to pull away, and when she did, she looked into her friend’s worried eyes. “Lord Tristan and Lord Hawthorne think you killed my husband and Lord Elliot.” She sniffed. “When I defended you and told him there was no possible way you could have done the deed, Tristan wouldn’t believe me. Can you believe he would do such a thing?” She wiped the moisture from underneath her eyes, but the tears kept falling in buckets. “I thought he loved me. I thought we would be happy together…forever.”

“Is that why you ordered him to leave immediately?”

“You heard that?”

Tabitha blinked and nodded. “I think everyone in the house heard, my lady.”

“When I couldn’t sway Tristan from thinking you were the one responsible for killing those despicable blackguards, I ordered him and Lord Hawthorne out of the house. I know the storm is still going full force around us, but right now I don’t care. I don’t want to see his untrusting face or hear his uncaring voice again.”

Tears collected in Tabitha’s eyes and her frown grew deeper. “
Both
of them thought I had killed those men?”

“Yes.”

“But w—why?” Tabitha’s voice broke.

“They had overheard us talking in the kitchen before dinner, and they thought the worst.”

Tabitha bit her bottom lip as a tear slid down her cheek. “How could he think that I…um, I mean how
could
they
think such a thing?”

“That’s what hurts so badly. I don’t know how they could believe that. And what makes things worse, I cannot change Tristan’s mind. He’s a determined man.”

“I thank you for trying to defend me,” Tabitha said in a choked voice.

“Of course I defended you. Tabitha, I know you did not do the crime. Unfortunately, Tristan feels having you arrested and locked in prison is the only way for him and me to finally be together.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “But I cannot possibly love a man who doesn’t trust my word.”

“How can you
not
love him, my lady? He’s been in your heart for years.”

Diane wiped her eyes again and met her maid’s gaze. “I’m going to have to bury my feelings for him. It’s impossible for me to make it through life this miserable.”

Tabitha was silent for the longest time as more tears fell down her face. She swallowed hard and nodded. “I do understand, but I shall make it so you don’t have to be unhappy. I shall make it so that you and Lord Tristan are happy together as it should be.”

“What do you mean?”

Taking a deep breath, Tabitha straightened and lifted her chin. “I will turn myself in for killing Lord Hollingsworth and Lord Elliot.”

Chapter Twenty

After Tabitha had said the words, ice-cold fear sliced through her. The magistrate would certainly take her word, arrest her and lock her away in the
Newgate
prison without a second thought. Or perhaps Sir Felix would decide prison was too good for her and have her hanged instead. It wouldn’t matter if Lord Hollingsworth and Lord Elliot were vile, scoundrels who had deserved to die. Because they were gentlemen, that quality alone would protect them in England’s eyes.

Diana gasped and clutched Tabitha’s hands. “What are you saying?” She shook her head. “No! I will not allow you to do such a thing. You are innocent!”

Another tear slid from Tabitha’s eye as she studied the panic etched on her friend’s face. “I might not have stabbed them, my lady, but in my heart and mind I have killed those men—as well as others like them.”

“That is not the same and you know it.” Diana’s lips trembled as if she tried to hold back a sob. “If you turn yourself in, the real killer goes free to murder others, and that is not justice at all!”

“But my lady, how else will you and Lord Tristan ever be together? It’s like you said...until I’m arrested, you and Lord Tristan cannot show your love in public. Nobody can know or they will accuse you of the murders.”

Diana wiped her eyes. “There is no love now, Tabitha. Even when the killer is arrested and Tristan sees how wrong he was for blaming you and tries to come back to apologize, I cannot forgive him. He did not trust me and that is something I’ll never forget.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “So I will have no more talk of you turning yourself in to the magistrate. Is that clear?”

Nodding, Tabitha glanced down at her lap, surprised she didn’t see her broken heart lying on her lap. It crushed her—nearly suffocated her, in fact—to hear that Lord Hawthorne had thought she was the killer, when only a few moments ago she’d been wrapped in his arms enjoying his heated kiss. How could a man kiss a woman so passionately if he thought she was a killer? Surely, there must be an ounce of kindness in that man for him to have such emotion. Yet now she knew it was all an act. Just as she’d suspected before, all he wanted was to seduce her and she couldn’t believe she fell for his trickery!

For a brief moment, she’d actually thought there might be a chance that the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman could fall in love with a lord and have him love her in return. Curse Lord Hawthorne for making her so vulnerable! Curse him for making her remember things like that were just fairytales and would never happen in her life.

Ever!

She swallowed the knot in her throat that was due to either anger or sadness, she wasn’t sure which right now, and looked back at Diana. “You have always been so kind to me. You have put your life and reputation on the line for Sally and me, and turning
myself
in would be a way to repay you for your kindness.”

Diana shook her head. “Not if you’re innocent. That proves nothing. Besides, I need you now more than ever. Because I will die a lonely old woman, I shall need your companionship.”

Tabitha tried to smile, but her quivering lips were making it hard. “We shall die together lonely old women because I shall never find happiness, either.”

“I doubt that, Tabitha. You are a lovely young lady and you shall find a man who will cherish you and treat you like a queen.”

Tabitha blurted out a laugh. “You are very humorous, my lady. A
queen
maybe not, but I’ll be happy if a man treated me with respect. That’s all I want.”

“One day it will happen.” Diana smiled.

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before a frown claimed Diana’s face once again. She moved off the bed and walked to the window. Rain pelted the glass and still sounded fierce as the wind howled through the trees.

“As much as I hate doing this, I think I need to stop Tristan and Lord Hawthorne from traveling in this weather. I’d rather not speak with him, but I must let Tristan know that he and Hawthorne can stay here the night and leave as soon as the storm passes.”

Anger filled Tabitha stronger this time when Lord Hawthorne’s name was mentioned. How she wanted nothing more than to claw his face off…or spit on him, or…cry. Instantly, she shook that last thought from her head. No! She would
not
cry any longer. She’d known what kind of man he was when she first met him, so it was her own fault for falling for his trickery. Yet now she wanted to get back at him for some reason.

But how?

“My lady, let me go do it.” She snapped her mouth close quickly. Why in the devil did she say that?

Diana turned and looked at her.
“Really?
You don’t mind?”

She really did, but it was the least she could do for her mistress. “I’m your maid, so I shall do even the most loathsome task you give me, even if it means telling Lord Tristan and Lord Hawthorne they can stay the night. But keep in mind I might make their stay very uncomfortable because of my hatred for them.”

Diana smiled again even if tears filled her eyes. “Perhaps you should not, Tabitha. After all, they are convinced you killed those men. Perhaps I should have Sally do it.”

Tabitha nodded. “I think maybe you are correct. I will go fetch Sally for you.”

“Thank you, Tabitha.”

As Tabitha left the room, irritation grew inside her, higher and higher from her gut until it burned her throat. Diana was right. Tabitha shouldn’t go tell the men for fear they’d want to take her to the magistrate themselves. However, if Tabitha didn’t say something to Lord Hawthorne the malice collecting inside her might explode and kill her.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Quietly as she could, she crept to the guest bedroom and pressed her ear against the door. The room was too quiet, so she knocked softly.
Still quiet.

Perhaps the men had left after all. Yet, as much as she believed them to be fools, they weren’t stupid enough to travel in this kind of storm.

On her way down the stairs, she listened for men’s voices, but all she could hear was the raging storm outside. When she reached the lower floor, she grabbed her cloak and shrugged it on, heading for the back door.

Before stepping outside, she gathered the cloak’s hood tight around her head and then dashed out into the rain. Immediately, the light from the stable caught her attention. Since Diana didn’t have a groom, there could be only one explanation for someone being in with the horses.

She ran to the stable and peered in the window. Lord Hawthorne and Lord Tristan were arranging the hay to make themselves beds. Both men wore frowns on their gloomy faces, but neither of their expressions was angry. In fact, if she were to put a name to it, she would think they were melancholy. Could she dare hope that they were both re-evaluating their accusations?

Rolling her eyes, she moved away from the window. Not likely! They were probably just sad because they were kicked out of a house with a warm fire to sleep in a cold stable. Well, it served them right!

She turned and hurried back to the house. As much as she wanted to lash out verbally at Lord Hawthorne, she didn’t want Lord Tristan to be present. So, she
either had to wait until he fell asleep or hold her tongue and
never voice her thoughts to
that irritating man
again.

Unfortunately, Tabitha was never the kind of person who could hold her tongue for very long…

* * * *

Nic
leaned against a bale of hay as he stared at the stable wall. How many hours had passed since he and Worthington had entered this foul place, he didn’t know, but with nothing to keep him entertained, the minutes seemed to drag.

Tristan, however, adjusted to the environment a little better. Of course his friend had slept many nights in a stable since he found himself struggling to find his memory and most of the time drunk… So naturally Tristan would fall asleep easier in a place like this. It helped that they took the bottle of port with them and Tristan drank most of it.

Nic
glanced at his friend who indeed had already fallen asleep. The steady pitter-patter of the rain hitting the roof probably helped lured Worthington to sleep,
Nic
was certain. But he was yet to feel the same exhaustion. His mind was a constant whirlwind of thoughts that wouldn’t rest. Heaviness had settled in his chest as well, making him completely miserable.

He blamed Tabitha.

Why had he allowed that slip of a woman…a
maid
no less…to control his thoughts at a time like this?

Guilt washed over him in drowning waves. Never had he regretted kissing a woman in his life, but remorse dug a profound hole in his mind—and heart—now. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He shouldn’t have
acted
like he enjoyed the moment she was in his arms and her mouth eagerly met his in one of the most passionate kisses he’d ever experienced. Then again, he wasn’t acting. He
had
enjoyed every second of their heated moment.

Grumbling softly as not to wake Tristan,
Nic
rose from his makeshift bed and strolled to his horse. He picked up a brush and began stroking the animal’s mane.

This night couldn’t end fast enough for him. Not only did he hate being here, but he hated feeling this way and thinking about Tabitha.

Is she really a killer?

He hadn’t met many people with hatred in their soul to murder another person, but deep down inside, he didn’t think Tabitha could do it. Could she have really killed Hollingsworth and Elliot or was she merely voicing her thoughts and feelings when he’d overheard her and Sally?

What if I’m wrong?

Although he didn’t like admitting when he made a mistake, worry grew inside him like a festering boil. What if, by chance, Tabitha wasn’t the killer? What if she was just an angry and hurt servant like Sally?

Or…what if Sally was the true killer?

A noise from the back of the stable jerked him from his thoughts and had him swinging toward the shuffling sound. From the darkness, a shadow emerged and slowly formed into a woman wearing a cloak. The closer she came toward him, the harder his heartbeat slammed against his chest.

Tabitha drew nearer and lowered her hood. Her eyes blazed a deep hatred as she aimed her glare at him.
Nic
scanned over her cloak to her hands for fear she would be holding a knife. But as his eyes adjusted, he could see she didn’t have any sort of weapon. He breathed a sigh of relief.