Anna is married to my brother, and they live in Gloucestershire. But they often come to visit. And it’s Kyria, not Cara. She’s one of my sisters.” He cast an amused sideways glance at her. “Odd name, I know, but my father is an antiquarian, and his particular field of interest is ancient Greece and Rome. Sadly, he insisted we all learn Greek and Latin growing up. The other thing he inflicted on us was our names. Mother put her foot down on some of the worst names, so Reed and Olivia managed to escape, and my name luckily was both normal and Greek. Poor Con, though, got stuck with Constantine. And Theo’s full name is Theodosius. His twin is Thisbe.”
“Oh, my. You have a great number of family.”
“I suppose so. Theo and Thisbe are the oldest, then Reed. Next is Kyria, followed by Olivia, and Con and I bring up the rear.”
“Two sets of twins!”
“Fortunately, we are on the opposite ends of the family, so we weren’t all young at once. Kyria has a set of twins as well, Jason and Allison. But you don’t want to hear the names of all my nieces and nephews. They’re far too numerous.” He stopped before an open door. “Here we are. This is the Caroline room.”
“Why is it called that?” Sabrina asked as she walked past him into the room. Like every part of the house she’d seen, it was spacious and richly furnished but carried the patina of age and wear that spoke of comfortable use, not ostentation.
“Oh. It’s named after some princess that spent the night here a long time ago.”
Some princess, Sabrina thought with an inward smile. That was typical of the Morelands, she was beginning to realize. They were obviously a family of great station and wealth, but they seemed oblivious to it.
“Do you like it? I’m sure Phipps could move you to a different one.” He glanced around the room, as if trying to judge whether it would do.
“Of course. It’s very nice.” It was, in fact, a little oppressive, with its heavy dark furniture and the looming tester of the bed, but there were two windows that opened on a large garden in the back—imagine that, a garden backed by an expanse of green grass and trees behind a house in London—and the bed looked wonderfully high and soft, as if one would sink into it like a cloud.
“And in a different wing from my chamber. Phipps does his best to keep us respectable despite ourselves.”
“Really? You’re a long way away?” That thought brought a little knot of nerves to her stomach.
“Not that far, really, just turn left down that hallway. But the ‘bachelor wing,’ as Phipps terms it, is suitably separate from the family and guest rooms. Mother never believed in shutting children away in a nursery, but neither did anyone want to have Con and me living too close by.”
Sabrina laughed. “You make it sound as if you two were terrors.”
“Well, we were also known as the Terrible Two, I’m afraid. Mother will tell you we were simply bright and inquisitive. But we did tend to be a little noisy. However, I think what made them want us at a distance was our boa.”
“Boa? As in constrictor?” Sabrina’s eyes widened, and she could not keep from casting a quick glance around the room.
“Yes. But don’t worry. Augustus isn’t here. After he got out and caused something of a riot in the streets, Mother made us leave him at the house in the country permanently. And we haven’t any of the rabbits or guinea pigs or rats anymore. It’s just Rufus and Wellie now.”
“Wellie? Another dog?”
“No, not a dog.” He shook his head, grinning. “I’ll introduce you.”
Sabrina began to smile. “You’re a very odd man, Alex.”
“Ah, but how do you know? Perhaps I’m quite usual, and you simply don’t remember.”
Her smile turned into a laugh.
At that moment, Megan swept into the room, carrying a stack of clothes, followed by a maid with an even larger armful of dresses, which she laid across the bed before leaving the room.
“Look,” Megan said cheerfully. “Prudence found some things in Olivia’s room as well as Anna’s. They’re not as simple as many I wear.”
“I like your dress,” Sabrina told the woman, meaning it. The lack of ruffles and bows let the elegant lines of the bodice and skirt shine.
“It’s useful. People tend not to take a woman in lace seriously.” Megan turned to Alex. “Time for you to leave, my boy.”
“Oh.” He looked startled, then embarrassed, his eyes flickering to the pile of white chemises and petticoats in his sister-in-law’s hands. He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.” He started toward the door, then turned back. “Sabrina...I’d like to look at some of those items in your pockets again if I may.”
“Of course.” Sabrina slipped off the jacket and held it out to him. It was a relief to get rid of the encumbrance, but it felt somehow even odder to be standing here clad in trousers and a shirt, with only the vest over it. Her womanly figure was much more obvious without the concealing jacket.
Alex’s eyes swept down her in a swift, encompassing look, confirming her opinion and making her flush with a heat that was only partially from embarrassment. She turned aside and found Megan watching her speculatively.
As soon as Alex closed the door behind him, Sabrina said, “You distrust me.”
Megan laid the clothes in her arms out on the bed and turned to her. “The Morelands are a very friendly and open family. They believe in the basic goodness of people.”
“But you don’t,” Sabrina ventured.
“I wasn’t born a Moreland. I’m a hardheaded Irish girl from the Bronx.” She came closer, and her brown eyes were no longer warm. “I won’t let you hurt them. If you try to, I will make you pay. Ask anyone—Megan Mulcahey never gives up ’til she finds out the truth.”
“I hope you do find the truth about me,” Sabrina told her evenly, looking the other woman in the eyes. “My story sounds mad, I know. I probably wouldn’t believe it, either, if it hadn’t happened to me. But it’s the truth. I have no idea who I am or why I came to London or where I belong. It scares me to death. I want to know who I am. Almost anything would be better than living in this void, even if it means finding out I’m a terrible person.”
“Do you think you are? A terrible person, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel as if I am, but I suppose one wouldn’t. People usually think they’re right, don’t they?”
“Generally, in my experience.” Megan gave a little half smile and stepped back, her manner, if not warm, at least open-minded. “Come on, I’ll help you try on these clothes while you tell me all this again. First, why do you think you might be a terrible person?”
“Look at my face. Something dreadful happened.”
“You could have been the victim.”
“Or someone could have been angry at me for a very good reason. Or I could have attacked someone and they fought me off. Any number of things, and they’re all just speculation. But it doesn’t denote a peaceful, ordinary life, does it?” Sabrina had shed her waistcoat as she talked and now started on the buttons of her shirt. “Why do men button their shirts up on the wrong side?”
“It’s a wonder, isn’t it?” Megan sat down on the stool in front of the vanity table.
“And then there are these clothes. Dressing up as a man isn’t one’s first thought, is it? If I was merely traveling, I would go as myself, surely. And why do I not have luggage?”
“To me, it speaks of a hasty flight from someplace or someone—in all probability, whatever caused the damage to your face,” Megan agreed.
“Exactly.