by Candace Camp
“I do, indeed. First of all, I want you to see if you can find any record of a marriage, probably within the last few weeks, of Miss Blair and a Peter Dearborn, Niles’s son.”
Tom let out a whistle. “Good way to keep the money in the family.”
“Yes, and time would have been running out for Dearborn, what with her turning twenty-one in three weeks.”
“You think he’s been embezzling from her money?”
“No idea. The will probably left him some recompense for managing the estate.”
“A token sum.” Tom lifted a shoulder. “But he had full authority—no one’s auditing him. And there’s a great deal of leeway in the provision that Miss Blair and her guardian be given ‘ample’ money to keep her and her household in the style to which she is accustomed.”
Alex nodded. “I want to know if they were married. It wouldn’t be here in London. Maybe at this Carmoor place, which I’m guessing is near Wells. Or perhaps where Dearborn lives, if you can find that.”
“I can.”
“If you find that they were indeed married, I want all the details you can get on it, even if you have to travel to the place and question the witnesses.”
“Leave London?”
Alex couldn’t help but smile at the other man’s dismayed expression. “It won’t kill you, Tom, I promise.”
“Maybe.”
“I also want to know everything you can get on Niles Dearborn and his son. What’s their financial status? Do they gamble or did they lose money on investments?”
“Your brother’s better at that sort of thing than I am,” Tom protested. “They hear me talk and servants and workmen’ll open up. Clerks and bankers and moneymen hear me and they freeze up. But Con, now, can charm them into talking like magpies.”
“Be that as it may, Con happens to be in Cornwall.” Alex sighed. “Lord, I wish he’d get back. This is exactly the sort of thing he thrives on.”
“He’ll be sorry he missed the excitement, right enough.”
“That he will.” Alex stood up. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything that will help you. Miss Blair’s friend is slated to call on her today, and she may be able to shed some light on all this, even if unwittingly.”
Tom studied him. “You don’t trust this friend?”
Alex shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m going to make a point of being there when she talks to Sabrina. I don’t know that there’s anything wrong with the woman. She may be exactly what she appears, a close friend of Sabrina’s who is as in the dark about what’s going on as the rest of us. It’s just...”
“Just what?”
“Doesn’t it seem a bit fortuitous that all three of these people happened to be at the same party last night—Miss Holcutt and both the Dearborns?”
“Weren’t you trying to find someone Miss Blair knows?”
“Yes. I realize I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth. It’s just... She seems a mite chummy with the Dearborns. She is the one who told Sabrina that Dearborn was her guardian. I fear that she may press Sabrina to go back to her guardian. Even if she is not in league with them, she may think it’s more appropriate. She seemed a very proper young lady.”
“It’s the proper ones you always have to watch out for,” Tom said, eyes twinkling.
“So Con tells me.” Alex grinned.
He wasn’t sure why he was uneasy regarding Miss Holcutt, a problem he pondered on his way home. There had been something about the look in her eyes when she had at first mistaken him for Con—not dislike, exactly. Dismay, perhaps? Wariness? And that telltale glance at him when she asked Sabrina if the story were a jest, as if she suspected him.
Strangest of all, she had almost immediately realized that he was not Con. He and his twin were so alike in looks that everyone outside the family had trouble telling them apart. That would indicate she knew Con well, yet she had been adamant in denying that she and Con were friends, consigning him to acquaintanceship. The only thing he could draw from this contradiction was that she knew Con but disliked him.
It was not a common attitude among young ladies, but Miss Holcutt’s cool expression and tight smile, her stiff stance, the very proper, even bland way she dressed, all added up to the sort of woman who would disapprove of the Morelands on general principle. If Con had somehow offended her as well, her feelings might be stronger. In that case, it would be little wonder if Miss Holcutt thought her friend would be better off not living with the Morelands.
There was even the possibility that Miss Holcutt was not really an impartial friend, but an active participant in what had happened to Sabrina. They had only her word that she was Sabrina’s friend. Just as with Peter’s claim of marriage, it was an easy thing to say when there was no chance of Sabrina knowing it was false. And that look of dismay when she first saw him—perhaps it was not because she thought he was Con but simply because Sabrina had someone there to protect her.
So deep was he in thought about Miss Holcutt that it seemed almost fate when he saw her step out of a carriage in front of Broughton House just as Alex walked up. She was dressed in fashionable but circumspect clothes, as she had been the evening before, her carriage straight, her bright red-gold hair hidden beneath a prim straw bonnet.
“Miss Holcutt.” He politely swept off his hat as she turned toward him.
“Lord Moreland.”
“Please, call me Alex. There are far too many of us Lord Morelands in the house.”
“Very well.” Miss Holcutt regarded him shrewdly. He had the feeling she was recording and itemizing all his traits.
“You are here to see Miss Blair, I take it.”
“Yes. I know I am excessively early, but Sabrina seemed quite anxious.”
“She will be delighted to see you. Please, come in.” He accompanied her to the front door.
On the stoop at the top of the steps, she turned to him abruptly, her face set. “I must tell you, sir, that I am not intimidated by your family’s title.”
“Indeed? Well, that’s settled, then.” Alex suppressed a smile. He could not help but admire the determined way Lilah Holcutt faced him, and he realized that he hoped his suspicions about this woman would be proved wrong.
“No, it’s not,” she said firmly. “What I am saying is that I have no intention of allowing you to take advantage of Sabrina.”
He looked at her levelly. “That makes two of us, Miss Holcutt. Please, come inside.”
Chapter Fifteen
SABRINA SAT IN the sultan room, trying to recall what she had dreamed the night before. It had frightened her, she was sure of that, but the dream had vanished as soon as she woke up. She thought it had been something other than the nightmare of falling that she had had the first night she’d slept in Broughton House. Indeed, she had not experienced that dream since.
However, the harder she sought to remember the details of last night’s nightmare, the further the memory retreated. It was a relief when Alex and Lilah walked into the room. She jumped up and started toward her friend. “Lilah! I’m so glad you came.”
“I was fortunate enough to run into Miss Holcutt as I was coming in,” Alex told her. “I hope you will not mind if I join you ladies.”
“No, of course not.” Sabrina smiled at him, then turned to Lilah, who was glancing around the room, doing her best to conceal her astonishment at the lush red room and its tentlike fabric ceiling. “Please, sit down with me and tell me...oh, everything, really.” Sabrina tugged her friend down onto the sofa beside her. “I remember nothing.”
“It is so odd. What do you remember?” Lilah asked.
“I remember nothing before I woke up on a train in Paddington Station over two weeks ago,” Sabrina said. “I had no idea who I was or why I was there.”
“But how did you come to be here?” Lilah glanced over at Alex.
“Sabrin
a came to Con’s agency—perhaps you are aware that my brother Con has an investigative agency.”
“Yes.” From the tightening of her mouth, Sabrina suspected Lilah had little regard for Con’s business.
“I happened to be there instead.”
“Alex’s family took me in,” Sabrina said. “It was extremely good of them, for I must have looked very disreputable, what with the bruises on my face and being dressed in men’s clothing.”
Lilah’s jaw dropped. “Bruises! What... But why—”
“I don’t know the answer to any of that. But we’re inclined to think that I was running away.”
“From Mr. Dearborn?” Lilah asked in shocked tones. “Surely not. Why, he’s been your guardian for years. You are...were fond of him. I thought.”
“I have no idea how I felt about him or what our relationship has been. Please, tell me about the Dearborns. Why is he my guardian? What happened to my parents?”
Lilah looked at her sympathetically. “I’m afraid your father died of apoplexy when we were around twelve or thirteen. He named Mr. Dearborn as your guardian, along with your mother, of course.” She paused. “I should start earlier than that. It will be more understandable. You see, the three men were all friends—Niles Dearborn, your father and my father. Indeed, their fathers were friends before them. You and I grew up not far from each other.”
“In Wells?”
Lilah looked startled. “Near there. Do you remember that?”
“No, not at all. It was just, um...” Sabrina found herself reluctant to tell this obviously very proper woman that she had broken into a house and discovered the picture.
“It was a clue we came upon,” Alex said, coming to her rescue. “We thought it was possible she had come from Wells.”
“Niles Dearborn, Peter’s father, came to visit my father and yours frequently, and he brought his son, so the three of us were friends. However, Peter was a year older than you and me, and he came only now and then, so he was not as close as you and I were. You and I also went to Miss Angerman’s school together.”
“We did?”
“Yes, we quite enjoyed it—although you, of course, were more enamored of learning the subject matter than I, I fear.” She smiled, and Sabrina was struck again at how much the smile warmed her friend’s face. Lilah was an attractive woman, but there was a certain cold symmetry to her features that changed into real beauty when she smiled. “That was when you were older—we were fifteen when we went to the school. It was right before—” She stopped and cast a hesitant glance at Sabrina, then said, “Before your mother passed on.”
“My mother is dead, too, then.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. She died when you were at school. We were sixteen. It was very hard for you, of course.”
“She and I were close?”
“Yes. She was always so sad after your father died. Both of you loved him dearly. Mr. Blair was a very kind man. He loved to read. You used to say you got your love of books and learning from him.”
“It’s so strange to have you tell me what I am like, the things I said, what I enjoyed. You know me better than I know myself.”
“You know yourself,” Alex told her. “It’s only the details that have escaped you.” He looked at Lilah. “With Mrs. Blair’s death, then, Mr. Dearborn was Sabrina’s sole guardian?”
Lilah nodded. “Mr. Blair appointed him mostly because of the business affairs, you see, to manage the estate Sabrina inherited and so on, but of course she lived with Mrs. Blair. Peter and his father continued to come to visit frequently, just as they had in the past. He wanted to keep an eye on things and to help Sabrina’s mother. She was—Mrs. Blair was always very anxious, very concerned about Sabrina’s health.”
“I was sickly?” Sabrina asked, startled.
Lilah laughed. “No. You were healthy as a horse. I think it was just that Mrs. Blair was so distraught by your father dying that she was fearful something would happen to you, too. She wanted to keep you close, and, of course, since you were shy, you didn’t really mind staying home with your books.”
“I’m shy?” Sabrina glanced at Alex, who looked as surprised as she did.
“Well...yes, you don’t much like meeting people. You didn’t want to come to London and make your debut. And you know how often I’ve invited you to—well, no, I suppose you don’t—but I asked you to come visit me in London many times, and you never would. Sometimes you seemed to want to, but in the end, something always came up.”
“Oh, dear, I sound quite dull.”
“No, not all! You are very enjoyable company. Why else would I have wanted you to come visit? Or trek to Dorset to see you?”
“Dorset? I thought we lived near Wells.”
“No, you haven’t lived at Carmoor—that’s the name of your estate—in years. After your mother passed on, you went to live with Mr. and Mrs. Dearborn. You were only sixteen, after all. You’ve lived there ever since.”
“So it would appear I am quite close to Mr. Dearborn.”
“I always thought so, yes.” A small frown formed between her eyes. “Sabrina...”
At that moment voices sounded in the hall, followed by rapid footsteps, and a man rushed into the room. “Alex, what is this Phipps is say—” He stopped short. “Oh.” His eyes swept the room, taking in the two women, and his cheeks reddened slightly. “I beg your pardon, ladies.” His eyes went wonderingly to Alex.
Sabrina stared at the intruder. The man’s hair was wildly tousled, but that was the least of the oddities in his appearance. He wore a loud yellow-and-brown-checked suit and carried an ornate cane. His mustache was waxed into stiff horns ending in upturned curls, a foolish look only intensified by a set of muttonchop sideburns. Sabrina’s first thought was that he looked absurd. Her second was the startled realization that underneath the silliness he looked like Alex.
“Hallo, Con,” Alex said easily, a grin breaking across his face, and he went forward to shake the man’s hand. “Ladies, this odd character is, alas, my brother Con. Con, allow me to introduce Miss Blair and her friend Miss Holcutt.”
“Ladies.” Con made a flamboyant bow to them. “I am most honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Blair.” With a wary glance at Lilah, he added, “Miss Holcutt and I have already met. Though, of course, I am eager to renew my friendship with you, Miss Holcutt.”
“Lord Constantine.” Lilah’s nod was crisp, her expression cool. “I would not think our acquaintance would rise to the level of friendship.”
“Miss Holcutt, you wound me.” Con’s bright green eyes, so like Alex’s when he was bent on mischief, danced, and he placed his hand over his heart in a theatrical gesture.
Lilah raised one eyebrow and said drily, “No doubt.”
“Did you just get in?” Alex asked his brother. He turned toward Sabrina and her friend and explained, “Con was on an investigation in Cornwall. A group awaiting the end of the world, apparently with great eagerness.”
“Really?” Sabrina looked at Con, intrigued. “Is that the sort of thing you investigate?”
“Whenever I can. Fortunately, there’s usually something going on regarding the mystical realm.”
“How exciting.” She turned toward her friend. “Did you know about his work, Lilah?”
“Yes, I am aware of Lord Constantine’s...unusual interests.” Lilah’s response was less than enthusiastic.
“Miss Holcutt believes my endeavors are...” Con turned toward Lilah. “What was the word? Ludicrous?”
“Buffoonish was what I said, I believe. It is bad enough that people believe in such nonsense without someone like you encouraging them in it.”
Con grinned, apparently undaunted by Lilah’s opinion. He looked down at his coat. “No doubt you don’t approve of my attire, either.”
“It’s perfectly acceptable if one wishes to look like a music-
hall performer.”
Alex glanced from his brother to Lilah and back, then said lightly, “Well, Con...since we all know the world did not end, is it safe to say his believers’ eyes were opened?”
“Of course not. They’re determined to be duped. But that wasn’t why I left. I, um—” Con shifted, casting a glance at Lilah and Sabrina. “It was nothing important, really.”
“I see.” Alex nodded. “Why don’t we go try to wangle a bit of food from Cook? I’m sure you must be hungry after your journey.” He turned to Sabrina and Lilah. “If you ladies will excuse us...”
Lilah and Sabrina watched as the twins left the room, and as soon as they were gone, Sabrina turned toward her friend. “You dislike Alex’s brother?”
“No, of course not. I barely know the man.” At Sabrina’s skeptical look, Lilah sighed. “I’m sorry if I was rude. It’s not that I dislike Constantine—actually, I am quite indifferent to him. We’ve danced a time or two, but that is all. It’s difficult to have any real conversation with the man. He’s utterly frivolous. He’s a well-known flirt who doesn’t mean a word he says. He’s certain he can get out of any problem by being charming and good-looking. And the galling thing, of course, is that he can—all the girls fawn all over him.” Lilah sniffed. “He just...sets my teeth on edge. It’s as if he tries to irritate one. He’s never serious about anything. He’s one of those young men who thinks life is all joking about and playing pranks and carousing. He’s forever making a show of himself—I mean, really, look at the way he was dressed. He hasn’t the slightest regard for what’s appropriate. And these silly investigations—chasing ghosts and legends and otherworldly happenings! It’s ridiculous.”
It seemed to Sabrina that her friend had a good deal to say about someone she barely knew and was indifferent to, but she decided it was best not to say so. “He doesn’t sound much like his twin brother.”