by Candace Camp
“The prime minister is terrified of the duchess,” Megan explained.
“Salisbury,” the duchess said, her mouth turning down in disgust. “That dreadful man. His beard is bigger than his brain. And his spirit is smaller than either.”
“You’ll never sway Salisbury,” Uncle Bellard told her, shaking his head. “He didn’t even want to give workingmen the vote.”
“No, of course not.” She sighed. “Still, one has to forge ahead. Someday we’ll manage to get their attention.”
“Don’t fret, Emmeline.” The duke smiled benignly at his wife and reached over to pat her hand. “I’m certain you’ll get arrested one of these days.”
The duchess laid her hand on his. “Thank you, dear.”
The conversation continued in the way Sabrina soon learned was the normal course in the Moreland household—the room was lively and noisy and filled with laughter, as there was talking across the table and down it, multiple conversations with the participants switching from one conversation to another and topics wandering all about.
At one point, Megan, across the table from Sabrina, leaned forward and said confidingly, “Yes, it’s always like this. You’ll get used to it after a while. The first few days I was here, I was surprised. It was more like my family’s mealtimes, not what I expected from the British aristocracy.”
“It’s quite...wonderful, I think.” Sabrina grinned. “I have the feeling, though, that it’s not what I’m accustomed to.”
“Still no glimmer of memory?”
“No.” Sabrina went on to tell her of her dream the night before, carefully expurgating what followed afterward with Alex. “So I wonder if I might have fallen.” She shrugged. “That seemed important information last night. Now I don’t know if that’s really any help.”
“It’s a new bit of knowledge—it’s bound to help. I promise, as soon as we’re done at the Women’s Franchise League, I’ll start making the rounds of my contacts.”
The meal wore down and the women left, with Rafe and Theo offering to escort them to their destination. Alex rose and turned to Sabrina. “Ready to investigate?”
“Yes, of course.” She popped to her feet.
“Good. Then let’s be off.”
“What are we doing? Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” There was a twinkle in his eyes, and Sabrina was reminded of her feeling the evening before that Alex was holding something back.
“You’ve found out something!”
“Perhaps.” He smiled.
Sabrina stopped, putting her hands on her hips. “Alexander Moreland, you tell me what it is right now.”
He laughed. “You’re as easy to tease as my sisters.” He held up his hands as she started to take him to task. “No, wait, don’t ring a peal over me. I’ll tell you.” He reached inside his jacket. “Yesterday I found something in the jacket you were wearing.”
“What? How? I looked all through the pockets.”
“This was quite small and caught in the corner of an inside pocket.” He reached into his pocket, drew forth a small square of paper and held it up. It was a plain sheet of stiff paper, rather like a ticket, but only half the size of the train tickets. A set of four numbers was written across the top.
“What is it?” It didn’t look like anything that would bring that look of suppressed excitement to Alex’s face. “A ticket? To what?”
“It’s a baggage claim. You have luggage waiting for you. And we are going to Paddington Station to retrieve it.” Taking her arm, he swept her off down the hall.
Chapter Seven
IT WOULD HAVE been a more satisfyingly grand exit, Alex thought, if they had not had to first collect their hats and gloves and Phipps had not insisted they take the Moreland town coach. But when the butler looked at him in that pained way and said, “But, sir, the ducal carriage is the appropriate transportation for a genteel female guest, not a common hansom,” Alex had no choice but to give in.
“Sorry,” he said to Sabrina as they waited on a bench in the hallway for the carriage to be brought round. “Poor Phipps is very grieved by our family’s lack of decorum. And no one except Reed or I will throw him a sop of grandiosity now and then.”
Sabrina laughed. “I don’t mind. Besides, it gives me a chance to take you to task.”
“That’s what I feared.” Alex smiled, belying his words. He enjoyed looking at her, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. How lovely she was; he wasn’t sure whether it was her eyes or her heart-shaped face or her thick black hair that drew him more. He never would have guessed that a woman could look so enticing with short hair. Despite Sabrina’s best efforts to pin the mass of curls up into something resembling the sort of upswept hairstyle women wore, strands of hair kept escaping, framing her face with curls.
“Why didn’t you tell me last night that you’d found this ticket for my luggage?”
“I wanted to surprise you. Besides, we couldn’t go until this morning anyway. I could have gone yesterday afternoon before supper, but you were busy, and I assumed you would wish to go, too...” He trailed off, his tone questioning.
“You’re quite right about that.” Sabrina turned the chit of paper around in her hand, studying it as if it might give up some vital secret. “I’m not sure I’ve seen one of these before. Have I just forgotten?”
“You’ve probably never dealt with checking in your luggage. A young lady wouldn’t, as a rule—a maid or escort would have done it for you. Or perhaps you never traveled much.”
“No. Perhaps not.” She looked thoughtful. “Maybe I lived an unremarkable life in the country.”
“Mmm. Until you decided to dress up like a man and take off for London.”
She giggled. “That doesn’t sound unremarkable, no. Perhaps I am someone wild and uncontrollable, and my family has to keep me locked away.”
“Then good for you for escaping. Hopefully you did them some damage in doing so.” He reached out to brush his fingertips across her bruised forehead. It made his chest tighten with fury to think of anyone hurting her. “When we find who did this, I’ll make him regret it.”
“I think you would.” She smiled up at him.
“Of course.” He held her gaze, thinking how easy it would be to drown in those eyes, how much—how very much—he would like to kiss her right now.
Sabrina turned away, ducking her head as if she had sensed what he was thinking, and when she spoke again, she went back to the subject of the claim ticket. “I must have checked my bag this time or why else would I have this?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps one of the train attendants did it for you. I think any of them would have seen that you were a young lady of quality.”
“And apparently incapable of doing anything?”
He chuckled. “Sheltered, let’s say. Though my mother would be happy to lecture you on the idea that young ladies are fettered with the shackles of ignorance and inexperience by the very people who claim to be protecting them.” He paused, then added, “Don’t, I pray, bring it up unless you are prepared to spend several hours listening to her.”
She smiled. “I won’t.”
“The carriage, sir,” Phipps intoned and swung open the front door in a grand gesture. The butler fussed about, holding an umbrella to shelter them from the drizzle as they walked the few feet to the carriage and opening.
When they finally pulled away, Alex let out a sigh. “I understand why Mother hates to take the coach. We could have been halfway there by now if I’d hailed a hack.”
“Yes, but we wouldn’t have gotten to ride in this lovely carriage,” Sabrina pointed out.
The coupe-style carriage was elegantly appointed, with stuffed leather seats, silver-plated hardware and walls lined with quilted burgundy satin. Even the ceiling was covered in the padded material. As a finishing
touch, a silver calling-card case was attached to one wall.
The windows in the door were large, and Sabrina spent most of the trip staring out at the buildings and people. Alex, sitting beside her, was free to look at her all he wanted, which, he decided, made for a very pleasant trip. Maybe taking the coach was a good idea, after all.
He was a young man who enjoyed the company of women, and he had not lived a celibate life, but he could not remember any woman who had ever made him feel as this one did. Not the cheerful tavern girl who had introduced him to the pleasures of the flesh, nor the sophisticated widow, several years his senior, who had taken him in hand when he and Con had entered Society in London after college. Nor any of the handful of women after her with whom he had conducted discreet affairs.
Sabrina turned and smiled at him, and he felt as if the sun had risen, casting its glow over him. What was it about her that made her so much more desirable than the young ladies with whom he’d danced at parties? The thought made him go cold as he realized that she might belong to another man.
“I’m sure I must not have lived here,” she said. “It’s all so strange—the people, the traffic, the street after street of buildings.” She turned back to the window. “Yesterday it seemed frightening. But today...I find it fascinating.”
Once inside Paddington Station, she craned her neck to stare up at the vast glazed roof. “It’s huge. And look at that ceiling. It’s like three gigantic glass barrels cut in half and laid side by side.”
“Yes.” Alex glanced at her, smiling a little at her awestruck expression. “You saw it yesterday.”
“Yes, I know, but I was groggy, and all I wanted was to get out, and I didn’t really look at it. It’s magnificent.”
Alex joined her in contemplation of the arched roofs, supported by iron ribs, that covered the tracks. “It is rather splendid. Brunel was a master at engineering and design.”
“Who?”
“Isambard Kingdom Brunel.” Alex rolled the name out grandly. “He designed it—as well as a number of bridges, tunnels and the Great Western main line itself. Although Matthew Digby Wyatt did some of the minor work, as well.”
“You know a great deal about buildings.”
“Yes, well.” Alex shifted somewhat guiltily. “You see...I wasn’t entirely clear yesterday.” Why hadn’t he just explained it all then; now he felt as if he’d been lying to her. Worse, he was afraid she might think the same. “The investigative agency actually belongs to my twin brother, Con.”
“But you said—” Sabrina paused. “Actually, no, I guess you didn’t say you worked there. You said you were Mr. Moreland. Then you don’t investigate things?”
“I help Con out from time to time,” he quickly assured her. “With, um, various aspects of the business.” And there was another pitfall; he couldn’t let her know exactly how he helped. “I didn’t mean to mislead you. It was just that Con is out of town and you needed help. I knew Con would agree, and so I... Well, it was the easiest way. It didn’t seem important at the time to explain it fully. I wasn’t trying to deceive you.”
She looked at him with those clear blue eyes and said simply, “I know.”
Alex relaxed into a grin. “I am actually an architect.”
“You design buildings?” She swept her hand in a vague gesture at their surroundings. “Like this?”
“Well, not like this. But yes, I design buildings. Houses. Sadly, my services are not in great demand.”
“Really? I would have thought many people would want to hire you. If nothing else, they could boast about knowing the son of a duke.”
“There is that. I fear some of my custom probably does stem from that motive. But in general, I think people assume I’m probably not very good, that I’ve gotten by on my family’s name. A number of the people I trained with resented my taking up space at the institute—it was their opinion that I was merely dabbling. On the other side, the peerage is aghast at my taking up a career. It would be all right if I were one of those nobles like Carnarvon and Bess Hardwick, who were mad about building and hired people to design houses, then oversaw and bullied the poor chaps while they built them. But to go to school and learn design myself and, even worse, actually hire myself out, well, that’s ‘just not done.’”
Sabrina smiled. “I would think you might already be accustomed to that attitude.”
Alex shrugged. “You’re right. It’s the sort of thing people say about all of us. We are ‘the Mad Morelands.’”
“What?”
“That’s what they call us. My family.” He shrugged. “I suppose we are a trifle odd.”
“But in a very nice way,” Sabrina said. “I like your family. They’re so...”
“Bizarre? Flamboyant?”
“I was going to say warm and welcoming.” She gave him a severe look. “Surely you don’t disapprove of your family.”
“No!” He looked startled. “Of course not. I love them all. Well, my immediate family. There are some outlying relatives I would gladly do without.” The sound of her sparkling laughter made him wish he could think of something else amusing. Instead, he went on, “In truth, I fear I don’t live up to my family’s standards.”
Now, why had he said that? No woman wanted to hear how a man had failed. As if he could escape his words, he turned and steered her toward the baggage room across the way.
Unfortunately, Sabrina didn’t drop the subject. “Why do you say that? I’m sure it’s not true. I would think you’re an exemplary son.”
“Thank you for that.” Foolish to feel so warmed by her polite statement. “What would be exemplary in most families is the opposite of the standard in mine. I’m not the sort to shock society or to plunge into anything with single-minded devotion or to defy the world. I’m just not...I don’t know, exceptional.”
“That’s silly. You are exceptionally kind. You took me in and are going out of your way to help me. Not everyone would have done the same.”
“For you? How could they not?” She glanced at him, startled, and he realized that perhaps he had given too much away. He cleared his throat and walked a little faster.
“You know,” Sabrina said, “I think it might prove rather tiring to be around someone who was always defying the world or shocking people.”
Alex chuckled. “You’re right about that.”
“You shouldn’t discount yourself.”
He lifted his brows. “That’s the first time I’ve been accused of that. According to my tutors, I thought I was too smart for my own good.”
“I must say, they don’t sound like very good tutors.”
“That was what Con and I thought. Ah, here we are.” They reached the counter, and Alex handed over the claim ticket.
Beside him, Sabrina fairly vibrated with anticipation. Alex had to admit that, when the clerk handed over the smallish, soft-sided bag, he, too, was seized with a desire to sit down right there in the station and paw through it. It would, however, be imprudent to do so. Case in hand, they walked swiftly back through the crowd and out to their waiting carriage.
As soon as they were seated, Alex offered Sabrina the bag. Setting it on her lap and taking a deep breath, as if she were about to plunge into a lake, she unfastened the clasp and opened it. The inside was seemingly filled with white cotton and lace. Sabrina pulled out a pile of material and handed it to him. Alex saw that she had pulled out feminine undergarments—embroidered, frilly white chemises and pantalets, a petticoat, nightgowns, stockings. He was taken unaware and instantly aroused, so much so that it would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t had a pile of cotton in his lap.
He could not resist taking a chemise between his fingers, smoothing his thumb over the embroidered flowers across the neckline. It fastened with slender ribbons of satin. They were all modest garments, but the mere fact that they had lain against Sabrina’s skin, the intim
acy of holding them, was seductive.
“Shoes!” Sabrina said with delight and pulled out a pair of slippers. “Oh, this is wonderful. Megan’s feet are smaller than mine, and my toes are so pinched. Here’s a frock.” She pulled out a dress, crumpled from being rolled up and stuffed in the bag, and shook it out. It was the sort of garment young ladies often wore, white cotton with a pink flowery print and decorated with ruffles around the hem, neckline and sleeves. Another set of ruffles marched down the front on either side of a row of small decorative buttons. Sabrina frowned. “It certainly doesn’t look like the kind of dress one travels in, but I guess she—I mean, I... Isn’t it peculiar? I feel as if I’m looking at something that belongs to a stranger.” She turned to him. “I like Megan’s clothes much better than this.”
He determinedly focused on the dress. “It does look a trifle...schoolgirlish.”
“You mean fussy.” She turned back to the bag. “Gloves. A brush and so on.” She held up a silver-backed hairbrush and matching hand mirror and comb.
“It’s a very nice set. Clearly you don’t live in poverty.” Alex reached out and took the mirror from her, turning it over to look at the filigreed silver back. “Another monogram. SB again.”
“That’s all. Nothing else but a toothbrush and a tin of tooth powder and some more handkerchiefs. Oh, and a pair of gloves.” Sabrina heaved a disgusted sigh. “You’d think I could have packed one thing that helped. The rest of that letter, for instance. Calling cards.”
“I must remember that from now on—always pack a card with one’s name and address on it.”
She rolled her eyes at his attempt at a witticism and began to roll up the dress to stuff it back in the bag. Something crackled, and she stopped. “Wait. What’s that?” She moved her fingers over the cloth. “I think there’s something in the pocket of this skirt.”
Digging her hand into the pocket, she pulled out two pieces of paper and held them up to him. “Look at this. More train tickets!”
“The devil?” Alex leaned forward, peering at the two tickets. “This one is from someplace named Baddesly Commons to Newbury. That makes sense. You traveled from some smaller town to reach the main line at Newbury. But this one...” He plucked the ticket from her hand, rubbing his thumb over it. The faintest trace of excitement and fear clung to it. “This one is from Newbury to Bath. The opposite direction of London. It’s not been marked. See? It wasn’t used.”