well.” Alex pushed aside the thought of how much he would like to take the woman in his arms and hold her, comfort her. Crossing his arms across his chest, he said, “What is the first thing you do remember?”
“Waking up on a train. The conductor shook my shoulder and woke me up, said we had reached Paddington Station. I was quite groggy. I got off the train and started walking through the station. There were so many people, and it was terribly noisy. I was so confused and...and scared. My head ached. I was trying to remember where I was and why I was dressed this way. And I thought whoever was meeting me wouldn’t recognize me. Then I realized that not only did I not know who I was meeting, I didn’t even know who I was. It scared me, so I sat down on a bench for a while and tried to think.” She shrugged. “It was useless.”
“What did you do then?”
“I—I was hungry.” She smiled faintly. “How very mundane at a time like that, but I was. So I bought some roasted chestnuts from a man with a cart. That’s when I realized that I had some money—a good bit of money, or at least it seemed so to me.” Her gaze sharpened. “So clearly I do remember some things—I know a five-pound note from a shilling, and I knew that there would be hacks outside the station. I knew I was peculiarly dressed. I knew I was going to see...someone. It’s just me that I know nothing about.”
“Did you recognize Paddington?”
She looked thoughtful. “No. I just saw its name on the signs. I... Really, I don’t remember much about the station. I was in a fog. But nothing looked familiar, and when I went outside, I didn’t recognize anyplace—none of the streets or buildings. Perhaps I’ve never been here before. Or perhaps that’s just something else I’ve forgotten.”
“You said you had a locket. Let’s start with that.”
“Yes.” Sabrina reached behind her neck and unfastened a clasp, pulling a chain from beneath her shirt.
Alex reached out his hand, and she laid it in his palm. It was warm from lying against her skin, and he found it unexpectedly arousing. He closed his hand around it and stood up, moving back to Con’s chair behind the desk. It would be better if he were not so close to her. Besides, it gave him a little more time to hold the locket and focus his full concentration on it.
The longer he held an object, the more likely he was to feel something from it. Only very strong remnants of emotions or events leaped out to him immediately—which, fortunately, made it a good deal easier to live normally. The best way to use his skill was to hold the thing tightly and close his eyes, blocking out all other sensations, and home in on the target.
But that would look far too strange to do in front of a stranger. Especially in front of a beautiful girl whom he did not want to think he was insane. Fortunately, the sensation from the locket was strong. It was warm and loving and feminine. He had never noticed before that he had been particularly able to pick out a sense of gender, and he wondered for an instant how far his ability could go. He had never wanted to try.
The strongest thing he felt from the locket was the same sense of her that emanated from Sabrina. And love; the locket had been given and received with love. Unfortunately, none of that helped him to identify her.
Sitting down, he laid the necklace on the desk and studied it. It was quite small and in the shape of a heart, on a delicate golden chain. Inserting his thumbnail into an almost invisible crack, he sprang it open. On one side was written a date and on the other the name Sabrina, as she had told him.
He looked back up at her. “Do you think this is your birthday?” She would be twenty-one soon if so—four years younger than himself. It seemed the right age for her.
She shrugged helplessly. “I wish I knew. Then I’d know two things about me—my age and my first name.”
“We also know that it’s a nice little piece of jewelry, not extravagant, but I’d wager expensive enough. And given the way you speak and your manner, I would venture to say that you’ve been raised as a gentlewoman.”
Sabrina grinned. “I fear that doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“No.” Somewhat reluctantly, Alex handed the locket back to her.
“Maybe something else would help.” She began to dig in her pockets and pull out various items and set them on the desk: a pocket watch on a chain, a leather pouch that clinked when she set it down, a card, a dainty feminine handkerchief, a torn scrap of paper and, finally, a gold ring.
Alex felt as if his heart had flipped in his chest. “A wedding ring?” He reached out for the ring. “You’re married?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “I don’t think so. I don’t feel as if I’m married. It was in my pocket. I wasn’t wearing it.”
He picked up the ring, set with a cluster of diamonds in the shape of a flower. “Perhaps you merely took it off to suit your disguise.” He could sense some sort of strong emotion from the ring, but it was muddled, and the whisper of her presence was faint, not permeating it like the locket she’d worn. It could have come just from her carrying it in her pocket. Adding to the confusion was the sense of someone else. It wasn’t necessarily hers.
“Maybe.” She was looking at the thing with a certain disfavor, which Alex found made his chest feel lighter.
He set the ring aside and picked up the handkerchief. It was clearly expensive and feminine. In one corner was an embroidered monogram of a large B mingled with an S and an A. “This S would support your name being Sabrina. A last name beginning with a B.”
Sabrina nodded. “Yes. But I’ve tried and tried to think of a name beginning with a B that might seem familiar, but none of them do. This is the bag of money.” She opened the pouch to show him the contents.
Alex raised his eyebrows. “You’re right. That is a good deal of money to be carrying about, especially for a young lady.”
“It seems suspicious, doesn’t it? A woman dressed as a man, traveling alone, no baggage, carrying a lot of money. I think I must be running away.” She raised troubled eyes to him. “But from what?”
“Do you feel that you’re running away or is it just the evidence?”
“Yes.” She paused. “I don’t know. I’m frightened. Coming over here, I felt that I must get here as fast as I could. But maybe that’s because I don’t remember anything about my life. That’s rather terrifying, all on its own, and of course I’d want to find out who I am as quickly as I could.”
“There are your bruises. Something happened to you.” He was immediately sorry he’d mentioned it, for the fear in her eyes increased. Hastily, he added, “Of course it could have been that you were in a carriage accident.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. A carriage accident would have involved others, at least a driver. They wouldn’t have let her just wander off, dazed and bruised. Nor did it explain the amount of money she carried or the fact that she had dressed up as a man. It seemed far more likely that someone had hurt her...and could right now be pursuing her. Thank heavens she had come here and wasn’t out wandering around, lost and alone.
He turned his mind away from that picture and reached for the piece of paper. It was torn across the top, and the rest of it was filled with elegant copperplate handwriting:
...do
