Page 22 of His Sinful Touch

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 intimacy 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.