by Candace Camp
The maid shook her head. “No, sir. I didn’t ask—it’s, well, Broughton House...”
“Where odd things often happen?” Con asked, smiling, and the girl nodded gratefully. “Are you sure that’s all Miss Blair said? Nothing else at all?”
“She said, ‘Thank you, Milly.’ And she give me this.” She pulled a silver coin from her pocket, extending it toward him. “I guess you want it back now.”
“Keep the coin, Milly,” Alex told her. “She meant for you to have it. And I apologize for snapping at you. It wasn’t your fault.” Alex turned to Lilah, who was staring at him in even more astonishment than the maid.
“You apologized to your maid?”
Con laughed. “As Milly pointed out, things are odd here, Miss Holcutt. We actually have the bizarre belief that servants are people.”
Lilah’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t... I don’t—Of course. But your father is a duke.”
Con laughed again, and the duchess seized the opportunity to start a lecture on one of her favorite subjects, but Alex cut through them all. “Con, do shut up, and, Mother, please, not now.” He gazed intently at Lilah. “Miss Holcutt, did Sabrina say anything, anything at all, about going somewhere? Did she mention any place, even if she didn’t say anything about going there?”
“No! I would tell you if I knew. I’m worried, too.” She hesitated. “Do you suppose—You don’t think it happened again, do you?”
“A recurring episode like Dearborn suggested?” Alex retorted scornfully. “I thought you were her friend.”
“I am.” Lilah’s eyes flashed. “Don’t snap at me, Lord Moreland.” Con, who had opened his mouth, shut it with a small smile. Lilah went on, “I didn’t hide Sabrina nor do I know where she went. Furthermore, I have to point out that she is a grown woman and has a right to leave this house if she chooses. What I’m saying is that perhaps suddenly her memory returned. And when it did, she didn’t remember what had happened in this time between. We know nothing about what happened to make her forget everything or what would happen if she recovered her memory. Who’s to say it might not happen again?”
Alex drew a deep breath. “You are right. I apologize. Again.” He thought it over. “If she found herself in a strange house, she might flee. But why would she bother to disguise herself as a maid? I think she did that to escape the attention of the man watching the house. I think she’s fleeing because of the Dearborns. I’m sure she was careful not to tell you she was leaving or where she was going. Sabrina is too clever for that.”
“And rather accomplished at escaping,” the duchess interjected.
“That, too. But perhaps we can find a clue in what she did say. If you would tell us what she was talking about before you left her...”
“She was very concerned about you and your family and what might happen to you for harboring her. She was afraid she would get you into trouble. She didn’t want you to have to make the choice of giving her up or bringing harm to your family.”
“Blast it. She said as much to me, too, but I thought I had reassured her.”
“I believe she was of the opinion that you might have overestimated your family’s ability to do whatever they chose and avoid the consequences.”
Alex ground his teeth in frustration. “Anything else?”
“She was... That ring weighed on her mind. She was afraid she might in fact be married to Peter, though I think she was making too much of a dream.”
“She dreamed she married him?”
“Not precisely. It sounded quite vague to me, but it clearly alarmed Sabrina. She wanted the matter settled—she wanted to know the truth.”
Alex nodded and started toward the door. Con reached out to stop him. “Wait. What are you doing? Do you know where she went?”
“No, but I have a pretty good idea. She talked earlier of going back to the place where she first boarded the train. I don’t think she’s trying to run from the Dearborns as much as she’s trying to find out what happened when all this began. I’m going after her.”
“But what about Mr. Dearborn?” the duchess pointed out. “He’s lurking in that carriage. He’ll see you leave and follow you. You would lead him straight to Sabrina.” She paused, then added, “You’d better put on a disguise. Take Con’s wretched suit.”
“Wait. I’ve a better idea.” Con’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll go out the front door pretending to be you. Miss Holcutt can go with me.”
“Me? Why?” Lilah goggled.
“You’ll pretend to be Miss Blair. You can wear a hat to hide your hair. Remember, they don’t know that you are here, so they’ll have no reason to think it’s you. If they see a woman with Alex, they’ll think it’s Sabrina. That way, we draw them away from the house and Alex is free to leave.”
“Or I could simply go over the back wall.” Alex hesitated, considering the idea. His first instinct was to rush off without waiting, but Con’s plan had merit. It would take more time than Alex liked, but it would be better to pack a few things to take, anyway. If he couldn’t catch up with Sabrina here in London, he wouldn’t be far behind her. If the Dearborns were following Con’s false trail, Alex could rest easier, knowing the Dearborns weren’t pursuing Sabrina.
“Where will you and Miss Holcutt go?” the duchess asked, and Con shrugged.
Unexpectedly it was Lilah who answered. “My house. It’s likely that they will come to call on me, because I witnessed the scene at the party, and I can stretch that out to delay them and give Sabrina and Alex a head start. In fact...” She grinned, her eyes suddenly dancing. “I could provide them information that will send them off on the wrong track. For instance, I could let it slip that she’s on her way to France, and they might take off for Southampton.”
“Bully for you, Miss Holcutt!” Con grinned. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.” He glanced over at his brother.
Alex nodded. “Very well. That sounds excellent. But I don’t want to waste any time leaving, so I’ll go over the back wall as soon as I can. I don’t imagine the Dearborns have someone watching there.”
“What if they do?”
“I’ll take a peek first,” Alex promised. “In the meantime, you and Miss Holcutt can lead them on a wild-goose chase. But while it would be fun to send them haring off to Southampton, I don’t really want to set them searching for Sabrina anywhere. They might decide to try more than one place, particularly if they suspect Miss Holcutt isn’t necessarily on their side. I’d rather they believe Miss Blair is here, safe and sound, and all they have to do is be patient and eventually they can snatch her up.”
Con nodded. “We can just take a little stroll and come back home.” He frowned. “Though if they decide to accost us on our walk, they will discover she’s not Miss Blair.”
“Stay to well-populated streets,” Alex advised. “Hopefully they won’t attack you in front of a number of people.”
“I’ll go with you,” Emmeline announced. “I would think they’ll be reluctant to set upon a duchess. I’ll take my umbrella, of course, just in case they do.”
Con left to begin the drastic change in his appearance, and Lilah offered, “If Sabrina left anything of hers here, I could wear it.” Lilah entered into the planning, apparently having lost her astonishment over the Morelands’ peculiar ways. “Mr. Dearborn would probably recognize the style of it, if not the actual dress. His wife is fond of buying Sabrina the fussiest of clothes.” She opened the wardrobe closet. “Perfect.”
“Yes, that’s what Sabrina brought with her,” Alex said. “She hated it.”
“It’s no wonder,” the duchess commented. “Now...I’m sure I must have a hat that will hide much of your face. And a pair of flat shoes to make you shorter. Come along, dear, and let’s find one.” Emmeline linked her arm through Lilah’s and started toward the door.
“Miss Holcutt...” Alex said, and Lilah tu
rned back to him questioningly. “I apologize for my rudeness earlier.”
Lilah smiled. “No need. Just bring Sabrina back.”
“I will.”
The two women started off down the hall, and his mother said, “Do you think a veil would be too suspicious?”
Alex shook his head and muttered, “And she wonders why Con loves disguises.”
He wasted no time; Miss Holcutt would be back soon. He wanted to see what he could learn in this room with his talent. He ran his hand along the dresser, then the table beside her bed, picked up a book lying beside the chair and held it for a moment. They all conveyed the sensation that said Sabrina to him, but beyond that he felt nothing. Finally, he wrapped his hand around the door handle; it would have been the last thing Sabrina touched, so he hoped for some residue there.
He went utterly still, concentrating on his hand. The sense of her was palpable. And here, at last, he drew a feeling of her emotion. There was fear and eagerness and sorrow, too, and laced through it all was a dominating thread of determination. She was bent on finding out...something. That part was vague, but Alex was even more convinced that Sabrina was backtracking, hunting for the thing that had impelled her to escape.
There was no more to be found; he would only be wasting time here. Telling the maid to pack a few things of Sabrina’s—he had seen her case sitting atop the wardrobe, so she must have set off with nothing—Alex hurried to his room and threw his shaving kit and a few necessities into a leather valise. He added a sheaf of bills from his lockbox. It would be enough...as long as Sabrina had remembered the pouch of money. He hoped she made it to Paddington without incident, that no man decided to take advantage of her, seeing she was a woman alone. Would she be able to find the ticket office? The right train? Paddington was so large and confusing, and she—
Oh, the devil, he was acting like an idiot. His mother would box his ears for thinking a grown woman couldn’t do anything for herself. He didn’t really think Sabrina couldn’t handle the trip; obviously she had managed to escape the Dearborns and make it to London on her own, even hurt as she was. It was just that...well, he wanted to do those things for her, to help her and hold her and make sure she was safe, to ward off any fellow loitering about the station who dared to ogle her.
Nor could he help but feel a stab of hurt that she had not trusted him to protect her, that she had felt it necessary to flee. She hadn’t even told him she was going! That sentiment was equally silly, he knew. She had done it out of too much concern for him, not a lack of it.
Irritated with himself, Alex buckled his case and left his room, picking up the carpetbag Milly had packed for Sabrina, as well. He trotted down the back stairs and out into the garden, releasing some of his pent-up energy by running along the winding path to the far end of their estate. There a spreading oak towered over the wall, offering a convenient escape route to anyone willing to crawl out onto a limb, drop onto the top of an eight-foot stone wall and climb down the other side—which, of course, he and Con had been willing to do.
He hadn’t made the climb in years, and he found it was a more difficult proposition when one was carrying two bags. There was also the problem that the wall did not seem quite as wide as it had to him ten years ago. But the height of the tree made it possible to search the area for anyone watching the back of the estate. He saw no one, so he dropped the two bags on the other side of the wall, then swung down to hang for a steadying moment from the limb. Letting go, he landed in a crouch on the top of the wall, then walked like a man on a tightrope to the spot where he and Con had long ago found the best handholds and toeholds for climbing down.
The small juts of stone were still there—though they, too, seemed to have shrunk over the years—and he clambered down. Picking up the bags, he hurried down the street, forcing himself not to attract attention by breaking into a run.
Two blocks down, he was lucky enough to spot a hack, and he hailed it. As the hansom rattled up the street, crossing the intersection of the street where Broughton House lay, he looked out the window. There, a block away, were two women and a man, strolling along, talking, with a carriage trailing some distance behind them. His mother, God bless her, was carrying her umbrella propped on her shoulder like a rifle. Even in the midst of his worry, Alex had to smile.
Woe betide the man who tried to grab Miss Holcutt while the duchess was there. Alex hadn’t seen his mother slam Con’s cricket bat into the head of an intruder when the man knocked a ten-year-old Con to the floor; he had been busy at the time running for help. He could imagine it, though; his mother had always been something of a warrior queen.
Traffic was thick and Alex’s progress slow. Alex fidgeted on the seat as they crawled toward Paddington, and when they came to a complete halt at a snarl involving a wagon filled with barrels, an omnibus and a carriage drawn by a fine set of grays, Alex abandoned the cab altogether. Jumping down, he tossed the driver the fare and set out at a lope for the train station.
He went straight to the ticket office, glancing around him all the while for a sight of Sabrina. At the ticket office there was a queue, which tried his patience further, but he used the time to crane his neck all around, looking for Sabrina. He suspected everyone around him was beginning to think he was a fugitive fleeing Scotland Yard.
“Next train to Newmarket leaving at two forty, sir,” the agent told him cheerfully. “That’s three minutes. Platform seven.”
“Yes.” Alex thrust the bills at the man and grabbed his ticket, then whipped around and picked up the cases.
“’Ere, now, don’t you want your change?” the agent called, but Alex had already loped off.
He wove through the other passengers, trotting when the space was open and slowing to a swift walk when it clogged. Ahead he saw the platform, the train still sitting there, steam billowing up from the engine. Then, with a clang and a jerk, it started forward.
“No! Wait!” Alex broke into a run. It would be the height of frustration to have come this close and missed it.
The wheels turned slowly, gradually picking up speed. Waiting passengers turned to stare at him. One man let out an encouraging “Halloo!” Legs pumping, heart pounding, Alex drew tantalizingly close to the rear car. Only a few more feet.
He transferred the handles of both cases to his outside hand and, putting on a last extra burst of speed, he reached for the metal railing. His fingertips touched it. He wrapped his hand around the pole, taking a last desperate leap. His foot landed on the step and swung up. For an instant he teetered there on the edge, the tracks rushing beneath him at a dizzying pace. Then he swung the bags up and over, and the momentum carried him forward onto the platform.
Wrapping his arm around the pole, he leaned against it, catching his breath. He’d made it.
Now...he certainly hoped Sabrina was on this train.
Chapter Twenty-One
SABRINA HURRIED DOWN the back staircase, carrying the small sack that held her few necessities. It was easy enough to get through the kitchen and out the door. The servants, used to unusual behavior, barely gave her a glance. She paused in the small alleyway outside the door, surprised at how much it hurt to leave. She had known it would be hard, but she hadn’t expected to feel like a vise was closing around her heart. For an instant, she thought of turning around and going back. Staying with Alex.
Stiffening her spine, she started up the walkway. She was doing the right thing, however much it might make her chest ache. Until she knew what had happened, it was folly to be with Alex. Worse than folly, for she was endangering him and his family by doing so.
As she approached the street, she saw that the man who had been watching the house was no longer there. A quick glance the other way told her that he had gone to the next block and stood beside a carriage, and he was talking to someone within. Quickly, she lowered her head and turned the other way.
Her instinct was to r
un. She hadn’t seen anyone in the carriage, but she feared it was Mr. Dearborn to whom the man was reporting. Sabrina had counted on her disguise fooling the watcher, who had never seen her in person and would be relying on a physical description, at most a photograph or drawing of her. But the Dearborns knew her well. They would be much more likely to recognize her if they were careful enough to look beyond the cap and dress of a maid and actually see her.
But to run would guarantee getting their attention, so she forced herself to walk forward briskly, as if she were on an errand, but not so fast she looked as if she were escaping. She kept her eyes on the sidewalk in front of her, shoulders tensed, listening for the sound of running footsteps or the roll of carriage wheels.
Nothing came and she turned at the corner, casting a sideways glance back down the street. The carriage remained where it was, and the man had disappeared. She stopped once she was out of sight, knees trembling, and caught her breath. The side street was deserted, no sign of a hansom cab, so she started walking again, finally finding a busier street.
She tried to hail a cab, but two of them rolled past her without even a pause, and it struck her that her disguise, while quite useful for slipping away from the house unnoticed, was anything but that for getting a vehicle. Dressed as a maid, she was immediately dismissed as a nonpaying customer. She marched on. No chance to change her clothes until she got to the station. What would a maid do if she needed to get to Paddington?
Omnibuses. She had been quite intrigued when she saw one of the long vehicles filled with people the other day; it would be exciting to actually ride in one. But how was she to know which one to take to get to Paddington?
She found a clot of people standing at one corner, obviously waiting for something. She studied them for a moment. There was a young woman about her age, dressed in a practical suit much like the ones Megan wore, and she had the look of someone who knew what she was doing.