Page 24 of His Sinful Touch

“But it seems unlikely that anyone in London would know anything about me. I came from this Baddesly place. It might be the key to all this.”

“True. And that is why I suggest we talk to Uncle Bellard.”

“Uncle Bellard? But why?”

“If there’s anything to know about Baddesly Commons, he’ll know it. He’s wild about history, and he never forgets anything. Well, except things like coming down to supper or taking off his nightcap. But when it comes to names and events, he’s spot-on.”

“But how will that help us?”

“It may not,” Alex admitted. “But he might know the names of people who’ve lived there—perhaps some family whose surname begins with the letter B. Or something about the place that might jog your memory. A house. A famous ancestor. Some obscure battle.”

When the carriage rolled up in front of Broughton House, they went immediately up the stairs. After dropping off the bag in Sabrina’s room, they turned the corner into the hall where Alex’s chamber lay.

“Phipps calls this the bachelor suite,” Alex told her and flashed a grin. “My room and Con’s are on this side, with our sitting room in between, and Uncle Bellard’s rooms are across the corridor at the end of the hall.”

As they started down the corridor, one of the doors flew open and a maid bolted out, cap hanging over one ear and her hair in disarray. She turned and shouted into the room behind her, “I will not stay in this madhouse another minute!” She slammed the door and took off at a run for the back stairs.

“Bloody hell,” Alex muttered and strode down the hall.

Sabrina hurried after him. As Alex opened the door, a maniacal cackle sounded in the room and a woman exclaimed, “Give that back, you thieving devil!”

Alex strode into the room. “Wellie!”

Sabrina, right on his heels, took in the room at a glance. It appeared to be a sitting room, with overstuffed chairs and a standing lamp beside the fire and a gaming table, flanked by a liquor cabinet. A tall bookcase, packed full of volumes, was against the wall closest to her. A few more books were stacked beside one chair, and the small table between the chairs held an empty whiskey glass. An old cricket bat was propped in one corner.

It was, all in all, a very comfortable, masculine sort of place. The only oddity was a very large mesh cage standing before a broad set of windows. Inside the cage were three branches at different heights. The door to the cage stood open.

A maid stood in front of the bookcase, glaring up at the top, her hands on her hips. When Alex entered, she turned to him and said in an aggrieved voice, “He stole me duster again, Master Alex.”

“I do apologize, Nancy. I forgot to put him in his cage before I went down to breakfast. I hope the new girl wasn’t too frightened.”

“Her,” Nancy sniffed. “She’s like to jump out of her skin over the skull in Master Con’s room. She’s another one gone.”

Skull?

“I daresay.” Alex turned to address the top of the bookcase. “Wellington. Give that back. You know you’re not supposed to frighten the household.”

Sabrina followed his gaze to the top of a tall cabinet and her mouth dropped open. A large bird stood on the edge of the bookcase, black talons curled over it. It was bright red all over its head and upper body, with a rich purplish-blue belly. Its beak was black and curved down sharply, and from it dangled a small feather duster. The parrot tilted his head to look at Alex with one bright eye for a moment, then dropped the cleaning tool. The maid rushed forward to pick it up and disappeared into the adjoining room, fussing with the feathers and muttering as she went.

“I tell myself Wellie thinks the feather duster is another bird invading his territory,” Alex told Sabrina. “But I’m afraid it’s just that he loves to send people into hysterics.”

From the bookcase, the parrot squawked, “Nevermore.”

Alex sighed. “I do wish Kyria’s brood hadn’t taught you that so thoroughly. You are not a raven, Wellie.”

The bird shifted back and forth and in a singsong voice said, “Wellie, good Wellie.”

“Yes, well, I wish you would be. You know how the duchess hates it when you frighten off servants.”

“Did she say skull?” Sabrina asked.

“What? Oh, yes, Con has a skull on a chest in his bedchamber. Something from one of his cases. Not real, of course,” he quickly added.

Wellie let out a squawk that sounded like the cackle Sabrina had heard earlier, and he swooped off across the room, ducking through an open doorway on the opposite side from the one the maid had exited through. Sabrina could hear the parrot calling out something in his rough voice. It sounded like “Con.”

“It’s looking for my brother,” Alex explained, then he called to the bird, “Con’s not here. Come here, Wellie. If you’re good, I’ll take you to Uncle Bellard’s.” He turned to Sabrina and explained, “He’s very fond of my uncle’s rooms. There’s a particular bust he likes to perch on.”

An instant later the parrot was back, settling down on Alex’s shoulder. “Wellie, good Wellie.”