Page 21 of His Sinful Touch

“No. Perhaps not.” She looked thoughtful. “Maybe I lived an unremarkable life in the country.”

“Mmm. Until you decided to dress up like a man and take off for London.”

She giggled. “That doesn’t sound unremarkable, no. Perhaps I am someone wild and uncontrollable, and my family has to keep me locked away.”

“Then good for you for escaping. Hopefully you did them some damage in doing so.” He reached out to brush his fingertips across her bruised forehead. It made his chest tighten with fury to think of anyone hurting her. “When we find who did this, I’ll make him regret it.”

“I think you would.” She smiled up at him.

“Of course.” He held her gaze, thinking how easy it would be to drown in those eyes, how much—how very much—he would like to kiss her right now.

Sabrina turned away, ducking her head as if she had sensed what he was thinking, and when she spoke again, she went back to the subject of the claim ticket. “I must have checked my bag this time or why else would I have this?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps one of the train attendants did it for you. I think any of them would have seen that you were a young lady of quality.”

“And apparently incapable of doing anything?”

He chuckled. “Sheltered, let’s say. Though my mother would be happy to lecture you on the idea that young ladies are fettered with the shackles of ignorance and inexperience by the very people who claim to be protecting them.” He paused, then added, “Don’t, I pray, bring it up unless you are prepared to spend several hours listening to her.”

She smiled. “I won’t.”

“The carriage, sir,” Phipps intoned and swung open the front door in a grand gesture. The butler fussed about, holding an umbrella to shelter them from the drizzle as they walked the few feet to the carriage and opening.

When they finally pulled away, Alex let out a sigh. “I understand why Mother hates to take the coach. We could have been halfway there by now if I’d hailed a hack.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t have gotten to ride in this lovely carriage,” Sabrina pointed out.

The coupe-style carriage was elegantly appointed, with stuffed leather seats, silver-plated hardware and walls lined with quilted burgundy satin. Even the ceiling was covered in the padded material. As a finishing touch, a silver calling-card case was attached to one wall.

The windows in the door were large, and Sabrina spent most of the trip staring out at the buildings and people. Alex, sitting beside her, was free to look at her all he wanted, which, he decided, made for a very pleasant trip. Maybe taking the coach was a good idea, after all.

He was a young man who enjoyed the company of women, and he had not lived a celibate life, but he could not remember any woman who had ever made him feel as this one did. Not the cheerful tavern girl who had introduced him to the pleasures of the flesh, nor the sophisticated widow, several years his senior, who had taken him in hand when he and Con had entered Society in London after college. Nor any of the handful of women after her with whom he had conducted discreet affairs.

Sabrina turned and smiled at him, and he felt as if the sun had risen, casting its glow over him. What was it about her that made her so much more desirable than the young ladies with whom he’d danced at parties? The thought made him go cold as he realized that she might belong to another man.

“I’m sure I must not have lived here,” she said. “It’s all so strange—the people, the traffic, the street after street of buildings.” She turned back to the window. “Yesterday it seemed frightening. But today...I find it fascinating.”

Once inside Paddington Station, she craned her neck to stare up at the vast glazed roof. “It’s huge. And look at that ceiling. It’s like three gigantic glass barrels cut in half and laid side by side.”

“Yes.” Alex glanced at her, smiling a little at her awestruck expression. “You saw it yesterday.”

“Yes, I know, but I was groggy, and all I wanted was to get out, and I didn’t really look at it. It’s magnificent.”

Alex joined her in contemplation of the arched roofs, supported by iron ribs, that covered the tracks. “It is rather splendid. Brunel was a master at engineering and design.”

“Who?”

“Isambard Kingdom Brunel.” Alex rolled the name out grandly. “He designed it—as well as a number of bridges, tunnels and the Great Western main line itself. Although Matthew Digby Wyatt did some of the minor work, as well.”

“You know a great deal about buildings.”

“Yes, well.” Alex shifted somewhat guiltily. “You see...I wasn’t entirely clear yesterday.” Why hadn’t he just explained it all then; now he felt as if he’d been lying to her. Worse, he was afraid she might think the same. “The investigative agency actually belongs to my twin brother, Con.”

“But you said—” Sabrina paused. “Actually, no, I guess you didn’t say you worked there. You said you were Mr. Moreland. Then you don’t investigate things?”

“I help Con out from time to time,” he quickly assured her. “With, um, various aspects of the business.” And there was another pitfall; he couldn’t let her know exactly how he helped. “I didn’t mean to mislead you. It was just that Con is out of town and you needed help. I knew Con would agree, and so I... Well, it was the easiest way. It didn’t seem important at the time to explain it fully. I wasn’t trying to deceive you.”

She looked at him with those clear blue eyes and said simply, “I know.”