Page 81 of His Sinful Touch

“Where is this place?” Alex turned to the reverend, tapping his finger on the cover. “This theater. Where is it in Andover?”

“Why, near the center of town, close to the old market. But why—”

“Thank you,” Alex said. The look on his face was so fierce that the other man stopped speaking and took a step back.

“You’ve been a great help,” Sabrina assured the vicar as Alex whisked her out of the room.

Behind her, she heard the man splutter, “But, sir! Wait! My program.”

Outside, Sabrina turned to Alex, her eyes glowing. “This means it was a sham, doesn’t it? He wasn’t a clergyman, just an actor pretending to be one.”

“Yes. It makes perfect sense. They had to act quickly once Dearborn locked you in your room. No time to get a special license, and I would imagine it’s a difficult task to find a wayward clergyman who would be willing to perform such a ceremony. Far easier to get an actor who would play the part for a fee. He probably even had a handy clerical suit from the troupe’s wardrobe.”

“Peter or Mr. Dearborn probably knew him and knew he would do it. That’s why they diverted their course to Andover.”

Alex nodded, taking her hands in his. “The important thing is...you’re free, Sabrina. You’re no one’s wife.”

“Oh, Alex!” Sabrina threw herself into his arms, and Alex picked her up and whirled her around, laughing. “I’m so glad! This is wonderful. It’s such a relief.”

“Now,” Alex said, setting her down, his voice and face taking on a grim determination. “We just need to find this bloody actor.”

Alex set their horse off at its fastest pace, cursing that it was not faster. As they neared Andover, the traffic increased, but he deftly threaded his way through it. Once in the town, it was easy enough to locate the theater.

The theater doors were locked, but Alex pounded on them like a madman until finally a harassed-looking man opened the door and stuck his head out.

“What the devil do you want? The theater is closed now. Performance is in two hours. No one here but me, and I’m trying to get my job done.”

“What I want is that man.” Alex held out the theater’s program, folded back, and jabbed his finger at the picture of the actor.

“Fairfield?” the man asked.

“Is that his name?”

“Only one I know,” the other man replied. “Anderson Fairfield.”

“Where is he?”

“In his rooms, I imagine.” He pointed down the street. “Three blocks down, top floor.”

The man seemed happy enough to give up Fairfield, but Alex tipped him a coin anyway, and then they headed down the street. When they reached the building, he turned to Sabrina. “I want to see him alone.”

“Alex! I’m not standing by while you take care of it.”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve been thinking how to go about it. I don’t want him to recognize you before I question him. Just wait in the hall a bit first, then come in.”

She followed him up the stairs, hanging back in the shadows of the dim hallway as Alex knocked peremptorily on the door. When the door opened, revealing the actor, it was all Sabrina could do not to gasp. She had been sure he was the right man, but now, seeing him in person, it shook her.

Alex stepped inside the room, forcing the man to step back. Sabrina crept closer so that she could hear the conversation through the half-open door.

“See here, who are you?” Fairfield protested feebly. “What are you doing barging into my room?”

“I’ve been told you are the man to see if one wants a certain job done.”

“Maybe.” The actor’s voice was both wary and eager. “What is it you want?”

“Peter Dearborn said you did it for him recently—a false marriage. There’s a certain female who’s stubbornly insistent on having a ring on her finger.” Alex’s voice was cool and lightly insinuating. Sabrina thought that he had a great deal more of his brother’s flair for deception than he realized.

“It could be arranged.” Fairfield’s tone turned friendly.