скачать книгу бесплатно
Her eyes glinted with amusement as she put the card back into her pocket. “Oh, here’s the ticket.” She pulled her hand out of the pocket, extending the piece of paper to him. “But all it says is Newbury to Paddington.”
“Well, at least we know you came to London from Newbury.”
“I suppose that is where I live,” Sabrina said doubtfully. “It doesn’t seem familiar...though, of course, nothing does.”
“That gives us something to work with.” He leaned back in his chair, thinking. “I know nothing about Newbury, other than it’s west of Reading. I think. Wish Con was here—he’s a wizard with geography.”
“Who’s Con?”
“My brother.” Alex straightened suddenly, his eyes lighting. “That’s it. I know where we should go.” He turned and started for the door.
“Where? What are we doing?” she asked, following him.
“I’m taking you home.”
Chapter Three (#uce608bc7-0831-5fb2-9af9-7a30fd7564b1)
“WHAT?” SABRINA STIFFENED, her eyes flying to his. The nerves in her stomach had died down since she had been here; she felt safe. Until this moment. Now warnings about strangers and wild stories of white slavers darted through her head—and, really, why could she remember things like that and not have any idea of her own name?
“No! I didn’t mean that,” he said hastily. “It’s not my home—well, I mean, it is, of course, but what I meant is, it’s my parents’ home. My family’s. My mother and father will be there and...and lots of other people. I promise you, it’s perfectly respectable.”
He looked so flustered she had to laugh. “I see. Very well.”
“I do beg your pardon,” he went on as he ushered her out the door. He offered his arm, and she automatically reached to take it before both of them recalled the attire she was wearing and they moved apart. He continued, “I should have explained my reasoning first. I realized that we could get help at the house. Megan will know if there’s been something about you in the news or she can learn it. We’ll call on my sister Kyria—if you’ve gone to a party in London, she’ll recognize you. And, of course, the most important thing is that you need to be someplace safe.”
“You think I’m in danger?” Alarm rose in Sabrina again.
“I don’t know that you are.” Alex hailed a passing cab, and once again they went through the confusion of his reaching to hand her up, then remembering she was dressed as a man. Inside the vehicle, he went on, “Perhaps there is some other explanation for your bruises and your loss of memory and your disguise, but I don’t want to take the risk. Do you?”
“No, you’re right. But, Mr. Moreland—”
“No, please, call me Alex. Or Alexander if you would like to be formal. It seems wrong that I should call you Sabrina and you call me Mr. Moreland.”
“All right. Alex. But surely you don’t want to bring danger into your parents’ home.” Sabrina looked up at him. He grinned, and it lit up the angular planes of his face in a way that made her stomach flutter.
“Don’t worry. They wouldn’t even notice.” When she raised her eyebrows doubtfully, he laughed. “You’ll see. Anyway, I’d back our butler to keep anyone out the door. He has a paralyzing stare.” He raised his head, looking down his nose as if he had detected an offensive smell, and Sabrina had to laugh.
It was strange that she could feel so at ease with a man who was, really, a complete stranger. But when she met him, she had immediately thought she knew him. It had so startled her that she’d gasped and stopped. For a wild, hopeful instant, she had thought he would say her name and everything would fall into place. But it had quickly become clear that he didn’t recognize her.
Still, she couldn’t help but relax, and it had been easy to tell him everything. There was a strength in him, a competence that was immediately reassuring. He was just so...calm. He hadn’t turned a hair at her peculiar attire, nor had he said that her even more peculiar story was ludicrous. No name, no memory, masquerading in men’s clothes, bruises and a knock on the head—none of that had fazed him. He had simply listened and nodded, as if such things happened every day.
Having no knowledge or experience, she could rely on nothing but instinct. Instinct told her to trust Alex Moreland.
Still, she felt impelled to protest. “But that’s too much of an imposition, surely. Your mother cannot like having some girl she doesn’t know shoved into her life. Look at me.” She glanced down ruefully at her attire. “I’m masquerading as a man, and she knows nothing about my family or what I’ve done. She’s bound to be shocked.”
To her astonishment, Alex let out a crack of laughter. “Trust me, it will take more than that to shock the duchess. Mother will be delighted. She’ll want to question you on everything, of course.”
“But I can’t answer her questions. I don’t know anything about myself.”
“Oh, not things like that. She’ll want to know where you stand on the vote for women and what you think about factory workers’ conditions, foundling homes, that sort of thing—and if you don’t know, she’ll be delighted to tell you all about them.”
“Oh.” Sabrina gazed at him blankly, wondering if he was joking. And what had he called his mother—the duchess? Was this an affectionate nickname? Some sort of slang that was another thing she did not remember? Surely the woman couldn’t really be... No, that was mad; Alex could not be a duke’s son.
Sabrina found it hard to believe that his mother would be quite so sanguine about her, as Alex thought, but it seemed silly to keep insisting on her own unsuitability. Besides, what else was she to do? She had no place to stay, no idea where to be. If she could only relax, take a little time, perhaps it might all come back to her.
As the carriage rattled on, she studied Alex. He was looking out the window, his face just as handsome in profile. Then he turned and smiled at her, and she realized that, no, he could not possibly look as good as he did straight on. She could not remember what she considered an ideal appearance in a man, but Sabrina had the feeling that Alex Moreland was a perfect example.
He wasn’t hirsute, as so many men were these days—no mustache or beard, neatly trimmed sideburns, his thick dark hair cut short. But then, he had no need to hide any feature. His face was perhaps a little thin, but it suited the angular lines of his face. He could have appeared somewhat severe, with those sharp, high cheekbones and the slashes of straight black brows, except that his green eyes were warm, his mouth full and inviting.
Realizing she was staring rudely, Sabrina glanced away. They were passing an elegant row of houses—no, there was only one door, so it must be all one house. Made of blocks of gray stone, it looked as if it had stood there looming over the street for centuries. She thought it must be some government building, perhaps, but the carriage rolled to a stop, and Alex reached over to open the door.
Sabrina’s jaw dropped, and her stomach fell to somewhere around her knees. Was this his house? She watched as Alex climbed out and turned to her expectantly. She followed him, filled with a dire suspicion as to why he had called his mother the duchess.
“Is this—” Her voice came out barely more than a whisper, and she cleared her throat. “Is this your home?”
“What?” Alex turned back from paying the driver. “Oh, the house. Yes. I know it looks a little...grim. But it’s much nicer on the inside. You’ll see.”
Nicer? She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. It certainly couldn’t be grander. The door was opened by a footman; at least he was not dressed in livery, which she had half expected after seeing the size of the house.
“Good day, sir.” The man took Alex’s hat and turned to her expectantly. There was nothing to do but hand her cap to him, revealing the tumble of her hair. If the footman was surprised or confused by the odd picture she presented, he didn’t show it.
“Hello, Ernest. Where’s my mother?”
“I believe she’s in the sultan room, sir. Her callers left shortly before you arrived.”
“The sultan room?” Sabrina asked in a hushed voice as they crossed the floor of the large entryway, arranged checkerboard fashion in black and white marble tiles. She could not keep from staring around the huge hall, two stories in height and decorated with portraits and landscapes as tall as she was. A wide staircase, also in marble, dominated one side, splitting at the landing to go up in opposite directions. “There’s a sultan here?”
He laughed. “No. Never been one as far as I know, though my grandfather knew some pretty odd sorts, I’m told, so perhaps there was a sultan in there somewhere. It’s called that because my great-grandfather decorated it when he was in some sort of Arabic fever. It looks rather like the inside of a harem. Or perhaps it’s a sheikh’s tent. We were never sure. At any rate, it’s rather ghastly, but we’re all used to it, and it’s more comfortable than the assembly room. Grandmother apparently tried to rename it the red salon—you’ll see why—but that never stuck.”
“Wait,” Sabrina blurted, plucking at Alex’s sleeve. “When you called your mother the duchess, you really meant it? She’s a...a...”
“Duchess? Yes.”
“Oh, my.” She could feel the blood draining out of her face. “Then your father is...”
“A duke. Here, now.” He grabbed her arm as she began to sag. “You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”
“I’m not sure.”
He whisked her over to a stone bench and went down on one knee in front of it, gently pushing her head down. “Just breathe. You’ll be all right. I nearly fainted once, when I broke my arm, but it passed.”
“You broke your arm?” She looked up at him. His face was only inches away, and the sight of him so near, his eyes warm with concern, was enough to steal her breath again. But this time the heat came flooding back into her face.
“Oh, yes.” His worried gaze turned to a twinkle. “I told you I was accustomed to dealing with bruises and cuts. Sprains and broken bones, as well. Now...feeling better?” When she nodded, he said, “I should have thought to ask. Have you eaten this morning? I’ll bet you haven’t.”
“I don’t think so. Not since I got off the train at least.”
“We must remedy that. As soon as we’ve seen Mother, I’ll ring for some food for you.”
“Alex. Your mother—you can’t introduce me looking like this.” Her voice rose in alarm. She could picture his mother, an imposing woman, maybe something like the queen herself, stiff and haughty and looking at Sabrina as if she were a bug. “I didn’t realize she was a... That your family was so...so grand.”
“Oh, we’re not grand at all. In fact, everyone says we’re deplorably plebian.” He grinned and hauled her to her feet. “Come, you’ll see. She’s not stuffy at all.”
Sabrina found that hard to believe, but she had little choice but to follow, her cheeks already burning in anticipation of her coming humiliation. Alex took her arm—whether to support her or keep her from fleeing, she wasn’t sure.
They walked down the hall and through a set of open double doors. As soon as they stepped inside, Sabrina understood both the names given to the room. The couches and chairs and a chaise longue were upholstered in a rich red damask, relieved only by the dark wood of various tables. The walls and even the ceiling were all hung with billowing folds of fabric so that it did, in fact, resemble the inside of a tent. A very luxurious tent.
“Alex, dear.” A woman rose from a love seat. She was tall and beautifully dressed, her hair a dark auburn almost overtaken by gray. She had clearly been a beauty when she was young—still was beautiful, in fact. It all added up to an imposing figure, though not the one Sabrina had imagined. But that image was dispelled by the warmth of her smile and the kindness in her gaze. “I see you’ve brought me a guest. Come, sit down, child. You look white as a sheet.” Reaching out, she took Sabrina’s hands in hers. “Goodness, your hands are cold as ice. Alex, ring for some tea.”
As Alex turned to tug the bellpull, Sabrina said, “I beg your pardon for barging in on you like this, Your Grace. And I know the way I am dressed must seem, um...” Well, she really didn’t have the words to sum up how wrong her appearance was.
“’Tis nothing.” The duchess waved her words away and led Sabrina over to a sofa. “Now sit down here with me and tell me what has happened. I can see that you are in some distress. Is it an employer who beat you? Has your father turned you out of the house? Men! Taking their pleasure wherever, whenever they want, but woe betide the poor woman who’s caught with the consequences—such hypocrites.” She looked over at Alex with a smile. “Not my boys, of course. They’re gentlemen just like their father. So I know it’s not Alex who has gotten you into trouble.”
Sabrina goggled. “What?”
“It’s all right, dear.” The older woman patted her hand. “You needn’t be afraid here. No one is going to judge you. I don’t allow that in any of my houses.”
“Your houses!” What sort of house was she talking about—surely not one that handed out postcards at the train station? This was becoming madder by the moment.
“No, no, no...” Alex hastened to say. “It’s not like that, Mother. Sabrina isn’t one of your unfortunate young women. She’s not, um...” He flashed Sabrina a distressed look. “Mother funds two houses for women who are in need, you see.” He swung back to the duchess. “But this is different.” He went on to tell her Sabrina’s story.
To Sabrina’s amazement, the duchess listened with a warm concern but no visible sign of alarm, despite the peculiarity of the tale. When Alex finished, she said only, “I see. Well, of course you’re right, dear, she must stay here with us.” She smiled at Sabrina. “Clearly you have been through an ordeal. I’ll tell Phipps to make up a room for you.”
“I hate to put you to so much bother,” Sabrina began.
“Nonsense. No problem at all.” The duchess gave her arm another pat. “I look forward to sitting down for a nice chat with you later.” With that, she sailed out of the room, leaving Sabrina behind her in a daze.
“Don’t worry,” Alex said. “It truly will be no problem for Mother, as Phipps will take care of everything. He’ll be delighted to have a crisis to deal with. It’s rather boring these days with so few of us in the house. And while he is doing that, we need to get you something to eat.” He led her from the room and down a hall into the back recesses of the house. “I hope you don’t mind having a bite in the kitchen.”
“No, of course not.” It occurred to Sabrina that the kitchen staff might find it something of a problem to have them in their way.
But, as it turned out, the housekeeper, whom Alex affectionately called “Mrs. Bee,” and the cook were as seemingly unruffled as everyone else in this household by the two of them sitting down to munch on cheese and bread at one end of the scarred worktable while the work of the kitchen went on all around them. It was clear from the way they smiled and worked around Alex that they were accustomed to him popping in and wheedling a bite from them this way.
Sabrina was not sure what life was like in her own home, but she had the strong suspicion that nothing in the Moreland household would be considered normal. The butler, Phipps, did his best to convey a sense of dignity and severity when he entered, but his presentation was sadly undercut by the loud voice of the cook scolding a potboy and the heavy thwack-thwacks of the maid cutting up vegetables at the other end of the table.
“Pray permit me to show you to the Caroline chamber,” he said to Sabrina, bowing.
“No need, I’ll take her,” Alex said, ignoring the butler’s pained look. As he and Sabrina walked away, he leaned down and murmured, “Poor Phipps despairs of any of us ever showing the proper respect for our station. But his knees are getting arthritic and he oughtn’t to be tromping up and down the stairs. Besides, he’d have nattered on at you about the grand history of the Morelands all the way up, which might very well have sent you running again.”
Sabrina laughed. “I don’t think I’m in danger of that. Frankly, all I want to do at the moment is sleep. I’m rather tired.”
“I imagine you are. You must have been up before dawn if you got into London as early as you did. Not to mention that whatever happened to you must have been an ordeal.”
They climbed the staircase, which up close was every bit as wide and elegant as it looked from a distance. They turned to the left and were on the top step when a piercing noise, resembling the screech of a steam whistle, split the air.
Sabrina jumped and whirled. A large shaggy animal was bearing down on them at full speed.
“Steady on.” Alex said, his hand going to Sabrina’s elbow. “It’s only Rufus. And my nieces.”
The animal, she saw now, was a long-haired dog of some indeterminate origin. And hot on his heels was a red-haired moppet, hands outstretched and face gleeful. It was she who was emitting the ear-piercing noise. A little behind her came a slightly smaller girl of similar coloring, doing her best to keep up.
An attractive woman with hair the color of dark cinnamon hurried after the pair and called, “Athena! Brigid! Come here!”
Between the large dog, the madly running children and the wide marble staircase, it looked like a disaster in the making.
But then the woman called, “Rufus, stop!” She followed that with “Grab them, Alex, do—before they reach the stairs.”
Before Sabrina’s amazed eyes, the dog slid to a halt and ducked behind Alex, peering out around Alex’s leg at his pursuers. Alex grinned and reached down to scoop up the girls, one in each arm, and place noisy kisses on the cheek of each. “Escaped again, have you?”
The little girls giggled, their quarry apparently no longer of interest, and chanted, “Uncle Alex, Uncle Alex!”
The smaller girl reached up to pat Alex’s cheek, but the larger, faster one reached inside his jacket, searching. Alex laughed. “I haven’t any peppermint sticks today, you little thief.”
The children both began to chatter, rendering it almost impossible for Sabrina to understand anything either said. Then one of them turned and pointed at Sabrina and said clearly, “Who’s she?”
“She’s our guest,” Alex told them. “Sabrina, I’d like you to meet my brother Theo’s daughters. This little imp is Athena and this one is her sister, Brigid. Say hello to Sabrina, girls.”
“Hello, Sabrina,” they said as one.
Brigid turned her face into Alex’s shoulder in an apparent attack of shyness, but Athena grinned at her with unabashed interest and said, “Are you a boy or a girl?”
“I’m a girl, but I’m wearing boys’ clothes.” Sabrina couldn’t keep from smiling back at the girl.
“I want to wear boys’ clothes,” Athena decided.
Alex did his best to hide his own smile. “This poor beleaguered woman is their mother. Megan, allow me to introduce you to Sabrina. Sabrina, this is the Marchioness of Raine.”
“Ma’am.” Another title. But of course she would have one. Wasn’t the heir to the dukedom often a marquess? Did that mean that Theo was the oldest? And was Alex actually a lord? Well, at least she could blame her lack of memory for not knowing the order of precedence.
“Call me Megan,” the girls’ mother declared.
“You’re American,” Sabrina blurted in surprise.
“Yes, I am. A stranger in a strange land.” She reached out to shake Sabrina’s hand in a firm, businesslike manner. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Mama, I want to wear boys’ clothes,” Athena said, drawing the conversation back to the topic which most interested her. “Can I?”
“May I,” Megan amended. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Me, too,” Brigid announced. “I wanna wear boys’ cloves.”
“Clothes, silly, not cloves.” Athena giggled.
“We’ll discuss this later,” Megan told them firmly. “Come here, you two.” She reached out and took them, setting them down on the floor. Squatting down to their eye level, Megan went on, “Haven’t I told you not to chase Rufus? You scare him. And it’s not fair to run from Alice when you know she turned her ankle yesterday.”
The girls nodded, the little one’s lower lip beginning to tremble. “Yes, Mama.”
“We won’t do it anymore,” Athena said gravely. “Promise.”
