Page 23 of His Sinful Touch

“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.”

“What does that mean? Why would I buy two tickets?”

“It means you were creating a false trail. Someone is chasing you.”

Chapter Eight

SABRINA’S HEART HAMMERED in her chest. She had fled from someone. She had known that was what the tickets meant even as she asked the question. Her hope had been that she was wrong. “But why? Who?”

“I’ve no idea. But why else would you have bought this other ticket? It might be possible that you bought it intending to return to Newbury and take this train from there, but if so, why isn’t there a return passage to Newbury from London? And why wouldn’t you just have bought the ticket from London to Bath instead of returning to Newbury first? It fits with everything else. You have only one bag, something you can carry without needing help. It was packed in haste—there is only the bare minimum of things here. You wouldn’t have packed this way for a pleasure trip. You dressed up in disguise. You bought a ticket to two different places so that someone following you wouldn’t know which way you’d gone.”

“I knew he—they, whoever—would follow me.” Sabrina made herself think coolly and clearly. This was no time to panic. “If he went to the ticket master and asked if a young lady of my descript—” She stopped, eyes widening. “I have it! What if I packed and escaped whoever it was in this town of Baddesly Commons? Took the train to Newbury and bought a ticket to Bath. Then I could have gone into the lavatory and changed into men’s clothing—say I bought some there or was clever enough to bring them in the bag with me. I roll up my dress and stick it in the bag; I cut off my hair and I go back out to buy a ticket to London, but this time as a man.”

“And when they came looking, asking for a young lady who might have bought a ticket, the ticket agent would remember you and tell them you went to Bath, not think of the boy who later bought a ticket to London.” Alex grinned. “How devious—I like that.”

“Unfortunately, I know as little about who’s chasing me as I do about myself.” Sabrina began to sweep up all the articles she had pulled out and return them to the suitcase. She realized that in her eagerness to discover what was in the bag that she had simply tossed the first pile of clothing in Alex’s lap. All her underthings. Personal, intimate pieces of clothing. She flushed with embarrassment. What must he think of her? And she could scarcely reach over there and pick them up.

Sabrina glanced up at his face and was suddenly certain that Alex knew exactly what she was thinking. Her cheeks heated even more. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then hastily back, and she thought, her chest knotting with anticipation, that he was about to kiss her again.

But then he looked away, breaking the moment. He took the bag from her and began putting the clothes back into the case, carefully not looking at her. Sabrina looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. She must stop all these crazy, wayward thoughts. Alex Moreland, son of a duke, was not for her—even if she knew who she was or what she was running from. Even if she was not already married, which she was beginning to be more and more frightened that she was.

“Why do you think I ran away?” she asked, wanting to pierce the awkward silence. “It wasn’t a carriage accident or someone abducting me—not with this much evidence of planning.”

“Probably not. Though I suppose an abductor could have grabbed the bag of clothes, as well.” Sabrina fixed him with a skeptical gaze, and he said, “Yes, well, I’ll agree it’s not very likely.”

“Do you think I am married to him?” she asked in a soft voice, keeping her eyes steadily on her hands. She didn’t want him to see the tears she feared might come. “It seems logical. I have a wedding ring. My face is bruised. How likely is it that my husband hit me and I ran away from him?”

“We don’t know that,” Alex told her firmly. “Sabrina, look at me.” He reached out and took her chin, tilting up her face so that their eyes met. “There are several other possibilities, as well. That ring might be just a ring, or it could be some family heirloom, your grandmother’s wedding ring, say. We know that you have bruises, but they could have been caused some other way. And if someone did hit you, we have no way of knowing whether he attacked you, so you ran away, or he hit you because he discovered you were running away. It could have been a stranger, a thief or even some other relative—a father, for instance.”

“You think my father beat me?”

“I don’t know. I certainly hope not. I hate to think that anyone would have done such a thing to you. But my point is that we have no way of knowing until we find out who you are and what happened to you.”

“Why would anyone but a father or husband be chasing me? Why would it be important to make me return?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps you have something of his.”

Sabrina gaped at him. “You’re saying I stole something? That I’m a thief?”

“No. Sometimes people have disputes over things—heirlooms, for instance. So one might take something that was in another’s possession and not consider it stealing. Or maybe he stole something from you, and you got it back—that ring, say.”

“You think the ring is that valuable?” Sabrina asked doubtfully.

He shrugged. “It could be an heirloom. Or maybe it was the other way around—he wants something from you, and you’re afraid he’ll force you to give it to him. Not necessarily something you have on you at the moment. Something at home or...or in a safe, perhaps.”

Sabrina sighed. “Whatever it is, what are we to do now? How can we find out what’s going on?”

“There are still some other avenues to explore. Tom Quick is investigating; Megan might hear from one of her sources.”