The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen

Derek took it, strode off and India tried not to feel like she was somewhere she shouldn’t be, an imposter who didn’t belong. It was nonsense, of course. She raised her chin and adopted an air of mild disdain. As if she was neither aware of how out of place she appeared nor did she care. Although for some unknown reason, she did.

Derek returned quickly. “He didn’t recognize her. Apparently all older Englishwomen look alike.” He handed her the photograph. “And she’s not registered.”

“Well, was she registered six weeks ago?” Goodness, did the man not even know what he should and shouldn’t ask?

He paused. “The clerk said the hotel prides itself on preserving the privacy of its guests, so he couldn’t say.”

“He couldn’t say or wouldn’t say?”

He grimaced. “He said hotel policy forbids it.”

“Did you tell him a woman is missing? Did you tell him her last known location was his hotel? That if she was not found, his hotel might well be held to blame? Or, at the very least, subject to gossip and public scrutiny? I can’t imagine any hotel would wish to be known as the last place a missing Englishwoman was seen.”

Derek’s brow furrowed. “That’s not entirely accurate, India. We don’t know which grand hotel your cousin’s letter referred to.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“India Prendergast!” He gasped in mock horror. “I never expected you of all people to advocate deception.”

“Oh, come now, Derek.” She stared in disbelief. Certainly Derek had admitted right from the start that he had no particular investigative skills, but surely this was little more than common sense. “Have you never read a novel of detection? Of mystery?”

It was his turn to stare. “Have you ever dealt with a French hotel clerk?”

“Did he frighten you?”

“No, he did not frighten me.” The muscles of Derek’s jaw twitched.

“Then go right back there and demand to see the register. Or insist he look at the register.” She thought for a moment. “And give him money.”

“Money?”

“Money.” She nodded. “Money often changes hands when one is seeking information.”

“I had no idea,” he said wryly. “Do you have an amount in mind?”

“No, but surely you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

“Bribed someone to get information he’s not at liberty to disclose? Surprisingly enough, I’ve never needed to.”

“That is surprising, and I wouldn’t call it a bribe. More of a...oh, a gratuity.”

“How much of a gratuity would you recommend?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Ten francs.”

“Ten francs? That’s rather exorbitant, don’t you think? My pockets are not endless.”

“Haven’t you collected dues this month?” she said under her breath.”

His brows drew together in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing.” She waved away his question. She had already decided it was best not to let him know of her suspicions.

“I could get a room here for ten francs.” He paused. “Well, half a room.”

“Then it should do the trick.” She waved him off. “Go on.”

He heaved a resigned sigh.

“And don’t forget to mention Heloise was last seen here. That’s very important in terms of encouraging his cooperation.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” he muttered and returned to the desk clerk. India didn’t actually see money change hands, but the desk clerk left for what was probably only a few minutes but seemed much longer. At last he returned and spoke briefly with Derek. Derek nodded and started toward her, the expression on his face annoyingly noncommittal.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yes.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the door.

India’s heart jumped. “Tell me.”

“In the last six weeks, this hotel—as well as every other hotel in Paris—has been full to bursting with guests.” He hailed a cab. “A shockingly large percentage of which have been English or American. Our friend at the front desk apparently can’t tell the difference. There is a world exposition here, you know.”

“I don’t care.”

He leveled her a disparaging look and handed her into the cab. “A great many other people do, including, I believe, your cousin.”

India nodded. “That is one of the reasons she planned on staying for a time in Paris.”

“She and everyone else. Although the desk clerk says he did not see her name in the register, it is entirely possible he is mistaken. And just as possible he’s not.”

India’s heart sank. The news was not unexpected. She didn’t think they would be so lucky as to find Heloise the first place they looked. She forced an unconcerned note to her voice. “Then it’s on to the next Grand Hotel.”

“I’ve already given directions to the driver.” He paused. “How long did your cousin plan to stay in Paris?”

“She wasn’t entirely sure. Her plans were—”

“Vague? Indecisive? Undetermined?”

“No,” she said sharply. “Flexible.”

“Flexible?” Skepticism rang in his voice.

“Yes. She had never been to a world exposition before, and she fully intended to see everything there was to see. As well as everything there is to see in Paris. She has always dreamed of traveling, and Paris is one of the places she most wanted to see. She is quite fond of art as well and planned to spend a great deal of time at the Louvre. She also wanted to climb that iron monstrosity that is now towering over the city.”

“Monsieur Eiffel’s tower? You don’t like it?”

“I think it’s hideous.” She shuddered.

He chuckled. “In that you’re not alone. There’s a great deal of debate about the tower. I, for one, like it.”

“Why?”

“First of all, it’s an impressive feat of engineering, a symbol of progress—of how far man has come in the world if you will. Secondly—it’s the tallest structure on earth, also most impressive. And third—I like how something made of iron can look so light and delicate.”

She stared at him. “That’s rather fanciful of you.”

“I can be fanciful on occasion.”

“No doubt.” She sniffed.

“Besides, it looks like climbing it will be a great deal of fun.”

“We’re not here to have fun, Derek.”

“Nor shall we,” he said firmly, but his eyes twinkled. “Don’t you have any desire to see this fascinating city laid out before you? As if you were a bird in flight?”

“Not especially.”

“But you’ve never been to Paris, have you?”

“No.” She shrugged. “I’ve never traveled outside England.”

“Why not?”

Obviously, the man was not going to let this go. “I’ve never had the opportunity, nor have I had the desire. I’m perfectly happy in my own country, and I see no need to trudge about the world in search of adventure. Or for whatever other reasons people abandon hearth and home for. England has everything I want or need.”

“Which explains why you chose not to accompany Lady Heloise,” he said slowly.

“A fact I now regret. If I had, perhaps she would not be...misplaced.” Or at least, India would know where she was.

“Given the flexibility of her schedule combined with her desire to fully explore the exposition and Paris itself... I’d say it’s entirely possible she may yet be in Paris.”

“It’s equally possible Paris was not as intriguing as she’d hoped, and she’s gone on to Italy or Switzerland or parts as yet unknown,” she said with far more irritation than his comment warranted. At least, this comment.

No, it was what he’d said about India choosing not to accompany Heloise. She really hadn’t made a choice. She’d thought nothing of it at the time, but when Heloise had announced she was going to spend upward of half a year traveling Europe, she had not included her younger cousin in her plans. Certainly, such a trip was not something India would have joined in anyway, but Derek was wrong. India had not chosen not to travel with Heloise.

Cousin Heloise, who’d never done anything even remotely daring or adventurous in her entire life, had never asked her.

CHAPTER TEN

DEREK SLANTED A quick glance at India beside him in the cab. They’d managed three hotels yesterday before he’d insisted they return to change for dinner. Not that India had anything to wear other than her staid gray traveling dress. He did feel rather bad about that, but it couldn’t be helped. Anything he could do to keep them in Paris he would indeed do. The number of Grand Hotels in the city was a help he hadn’t expected.

Thus far today they had checked two more Grand Hotels off the list in his notebook—a rather brilliant idea on his part. He had never in his life thought to impress a woman with efficiency, organization and—God help him—a list, but it did indeed seem to warm India’s frosty heart.

It probably wasn’t at all fair of him to think of her heart as frosty. As much as she tried to hide it, it was obvious to him that she was worried about her cousin. And he had once or twice seen what might possibly be the hint of a genuine smile. India was the only woman he’d ever met with such an unrelenting grip on her emotions. It was at once admirable and terrifying. On occasion, he had noticed a look in her eye that indicated the control she so tightly held might be on the verge of slipping away. But that was rare, and who knew what might happen if someone wound as tight as India were to let go? On one hand, he would pay to see that happen. On the other, it might be best to be as far away from her as possible when she was at last pushed over the edge.

Even so, there had been something about her yesterday morning in her room when she was very nearly relaxed. Something far more appealing than he had suspected. He was fairly certain Val had noticed. Derek’s past sins and indiscretions paled in comparison to his stepbrother’s, not that there had ever been any sort of competition between the two. India was just the kind of challenge Val would enjoy. The fact that she’d looked unexpectedly delicious would only make that challenge more enticing. Derek was not about to let the man seduce India. For good or ill, she was under his protection and he would not see her hurt. It was not far-fetched to assume she had little experience with men. Especially men of Val’s ilk.

“I need to send a telegram,” she said abruptly.

“A postcard would be less costly,” he pointed out.

“And it takes a great deal longer to reach its destination.”

“Of course, but—”

“Derek.” She pinned him with a hard look. “If you are making assumptions about my finances, I can assure you I have funds sufficient to pay my expenses for at least the next six weeks. I am hopeful we will not be gone that long.”

“As am I.” He thought for a moment. He didn’t wish to insult her, but only a fool would fail to note the offhand comments she’d made or how her dress—while not quite shabby—was well worn. “Should you find your expenses exceeding your budget, I do hope you will allow me to assist you.”

She raised a brow. “Financially?”

“Well, yes.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you here in the first place because you couldn’t afford the cost of a detective agency to track down my cousin?”

“True enough.” He nodded and wondered how much his uncle was paying.

“A hundred or so pounds a month doesn’t seem to go very far, does it?” she said quietly.

What on earth was she talking about? “What?”

“Nothing important. It simply seems to me that your funds, too, are limited.”

“Nonetheless—”

“And I have no intention of discussing the matter further. No, Derek.” She shook her head. “It must be a telegram, and it must be sent today. And I should like to send it as soon as possible.”

“I thought we’d stop for a bite to eat first.” He paused. “And perhaps a glass of wine.”

“Wine?” The disapproval in her voice matched the look in her eyes. “In the middle of the day?”

“Shocking, I know, but we are in Paris.” He gestured at the passing scene. “Paris is known for its sidewalk cafés, and we do have to eat.”

“I’m not particularly hungry.”

“And yet I am famished,” he said firmly. “I would very much like to savor a good poulet or poisson.”

“As much as a nicely broiled chicken or a well-poached piece of salmon does sound tempting, I would prefer to send my telegram first.” She set her jaw in the stubborn manner he was already beginning to recognize.

“And then we can eat?”

She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” He pulled out his guidebook, flipped to a listing of telegraph offices, then directed the driver to the one closest. A few minutes later, he helped India out of the cab. “Should I go in with you?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” She considered the door to the telegraph office with the same look a general might have when preparing for battle. “My French is excellent, and I shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Very well then.” The cafés and restaurants on either side of the street appeared acceptable. The neighborhood was more than respectable and seemed to be frequented as much by tourists and foreigners as Parisians. He gestured at the restaurant to the right of the office. “I shall obtain a table and wait for you there.”

She nodded, squared her shoulders slightly—not really necessary as her posture was never less than perfect—and strode into the office. Derek rather pitied the poor clerk inside.

He procured an outdoor table—not too close to the street and the gutter—ordered a carafe of the house wine and two glasses. It had been a good five years or so since he had last been in Paris but, aside from the construction that had been ongoing in the city for decades, very little had changed. Cafés had always been an excellent way to observe the inhabitants of the French capital. It was easy to differentiate between native Parisians passing by, their manner unhurried and relaxed as if they relished in the savoring of life itself, and the tourists that flocked here to see the sights—their expressions intent and determined. As if they hadn’t a moment to waste in their quest to visit the Louvre and the Cathedral of Notre Dame and all else Paris offered, and no doubt they probably hadn’t. Lady Heloise was wise to plan an extended stay here, although it would certainly help if she had determined in advance just how long she intended that stay to be. In spite of the lax nature of the travel plans prepared for Lady Heloise by the Lady Travelers Society, there was something here that made no sense. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But then, in his experience, women rarely made a great deal of sense. An annoying trait that tended to increase with age. His mother and Aunt Guinevere were sterling examples of that.

“Is that for me?”

Derek jumped to his feet. He hadn’t seen India coming, an error on his part. It didn’t seem wise to allow this woman to catch him unawares. He pulled out her chair and she sat down. “You mean the wine?”

“Yes.” She eyed the still-empty glass.

“Indeed it is.” He took his seat and filled her glass. “I would have ordered for you, but I didn’t know if you really did prefer fish to chicken.”

“In this particular case, I should probably allow you to select for me as you are familiar with the food in this country and I am not.” She slid the glass away. “And I told you, I do not drink wine in the middle of the day.”

“Actually, you said nothing of the sort.” He pushed the glass back toward her. “You did, however, imply there was something improper about a glass of wine in the middle of the day.”

“And indeed—” she slid the glass toward him again “—there is.”

“Not in Paris.” He moved the glass back. “Do you ever loosen your corset, India? Ever?”

Her eyes widened. “My corset is none of your concern! I daresay, even in Paris, one does not discuss one’s corset with a gentleman. Of course a gentleman would never bring up such a subject in the first place.”

“Certainly not with you.”

“I shall take that as a compliment,” she said in a lofty manner, picked up the glass and took a healthy sip.

He resisted the urge to grin with triumph. There was something about annoying India Prendergast that was very nearly irresistible.

“If you are hoping to see me intoxicated, I assure you your efforts are in vain.” She smirked. “I frequently have wine with dinner.”

He laughed. “And I assure you, that is the farthest thing from my mind. I was hoping for no more than an enjoyable meal and equally enjoyable company.”

“I doubt that you have found my company enjoyable thus far.”

“You have a great deal on your mind.” He signaled to a waiter and ordered them both a delicious-looking chicken stew he’d spotted at another table. “It’s to be expected really that you would be preoccupied. You’re worried about your cousin.”

“Thank you,” she said when the waiter left. “I am concerned. Heloise has never traveled anywhere, and she has a tendency to be a bit flighty and impractical. She’s always been something of a dreamer.”

“I imagine you are practical enough for the two of you.”

“There is nothing wrong with being practical. Or sensible. I see the world as it is, Derek. Not as I wish it would be.”

“How do you wish it would be?”

She stared at him. “I am perfectly happy with the world as it is.”

“Your cousin wished to travel. Surely you have dreams, as well?”

“Not really.” She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Nothing comes to mind.”

“I find that hard to believe. Even the most content among us has something they would wish for.”

“I might ask you the same thing. What do you dream of? What do you want?”

“I want not to disappoint,” he said without thinking, but the moment the words left his lips he wished he could take them back.

“Not to disappoint who?”

“Anyone, everyone.” He resisted the urge to squirm in his seat. This was entirely too...revealing. He wasn’t sure why he’d admitted this in the first place, and to her of all people. Of course, he hadn’t known what he’d wanted at all until the words had come out, an unanticipated revelation that bore further scrutiny but not at the moment. And not with India.

“Come now, Derek,” she said mildly. “I daresay not being a disappointment is what everyone wants. It’s like wanting to be good instead of bad.”

“I shall make you a bargain, India.” He leaned forward slightly and stared into her eyes. “If you will not belittle my wishes, then I will not disparage the fact that you have none.”

Her cheeks colored. Guilt stabbed him. He ignored it and changed the subject. “Tell me more about your cousin.”

“Why?” she said with as much relief as distrust. She was obviously as uncomfortable with the turn their conversation had taken as he.

“You needn’t be so suspicious, I simply think knowing as much as I can about her might be helpful.”

“I can’t imagine it would hurt.”

“Then I am right.” He grinned. “Again.”

“Savor it, Derek, as it is so rare.”

He laughed. “I take it your cousin is somewhat frugal.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Do you intend to be wary of every question I ask?”

“Probably,” she said coolly and lifted her glass to her lips. He would have wagered she did so to hide a smile.

“You were surprised at the first Grand Hotel we visited.”

She nodded. “Heloise does not squander her money. She has a very limited income—only a trust left to her by her father. He was the Earl of Crenfield, a title that went to a distant relative along with most of the family’s wealth and property. Heloise was left a house in London and a trust that provides a modest annual income.”

“Oh?” Modest was not the word he would use.

“She became my guardian when my parents died. I was eleven at the time. My parents left a small sum in savings, which went toward my education. Heloise provided the rest. She is most generous, but her income is minimal.” She paused. “I would hate to be a burden on her.”

“Which explains why you chose to seek employment.”

“I suppose it does.” She took another sip of her wine. “But I enjoy my financial independence. I daresay, even if Heloise had a huge fortune, I suspect I would want to do something other than sit around and embroider or watercolor.”

“You could wed,” he said in an offhand manner.

“I’ve never met a man I could imagine shackling myself to for the rest of my days.” She shuddered. “I can’t think of a worse fate.”

“Have you no desire for love?”

“Love, Derek, at least the romantic kind, is the height of irrational, illogical, foolish absurdity. And romance is nothing more than a silly lure for love. People live for love or die for love, or the lack of it. They write bad poetry over it and make worse decisions. Love makes people forget their responsibilities and do imbecilic things. No indeed.” She shook her head with a bit more vehemence than was necessary, but that might have been the wine. “I have never been the least bit enamored of love nor do I intend to be. And I realized years ago that some of us are simply not suited for marriage.”

“Oh?”

“I would think a successful marriage—at least the only kind I would consider—would require a certain amount of compromise. I have never even heard of a man who is willing to compromise, especially not when it comes to marriage.” She wrinkled her nose in a delightfully unguarded manner. “And I have never been good at compromise.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “No!”

She ignored him. “I simply see no reason to compromise when I am right. And I am always right.”

He laughed. Before he could debate her statement, their food arrived. The chicken and vegetable dish cooked in a rich wine sauce was as good as it had looked, and they were both too busy enjoying the tasty cuisine to say much of anything beyond murmurs of appreciation and satisfaction.

“Might I ask who you were so adamant about telegraphing?” he said when they were nearly finished.

“It’s none of your concern.” Her glass was empty, and he refilled it, surprised that she did not protest. “But it’s not a secret. My employer asked me to telegraph him regularly and inform him of our progress.” She raised her glass to him. “He doesn’t trust you, either.”

He gasped in feigned dismay. “And what, pray tell, have I done to earn his distrust?”

“Good Lord, Derek, you have quite a reputation.”

“Yes, you mentioned that in London.”

“It bears repeating. You can’t be so dim as to not be aware of your tarnished image.”

“I am well aware of it. However, I am in the process of reform.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then snorted in disbelief. “Come now. Men like you do not reform.”

“Men like me?”

“Your misdeeds are public knowledge. Your name can scarcely come up in conversation without someone relating one unfortunate incident or another.” She set down her glass and ticked the points off on her fingers. “One of your best known indiscretions involved Lady Philbury—”

“Who was estranged from her husband,” he said casually.

“But married nonetheless. There was an incident centered on an indecent painting—”

“A youthful error in judgment on my part.” He waved off her comment. “Surely such transgressions can be forgiven?”

“But never forgotten. There was a questionable sporting event in Hyde Park. A race I believe.”

“Scarcely worth mentioning.” He snorted in dismissal. “And might I point out neither animal nor human suffered the tiniest injury. Other than perhaps to their dignity.”

“There was a wager involving the auction of undergarments of a royal personage.”

He winced. “Yes, well, that was perhaps not one of my finer moments. Although it really wasn’t my idea.”

“Giving credit to someone else does not absolve you of responsibility,” she said primly. “There was a masked ball where the ladies in question—”

“That’s quite enough, but thank you for allowing me to relive my wicked ways.” He grinned. In hindsight, there were a great many things he’d done, and nearly as many that he’d failed to do, that now struck him as foolish and asinine. But nearly all of them had been fun at the time.

“Ways you say are in the past.”

“The very definition of reform.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“One does have to grow up at some point, you know.” He smiled wryly. “Whether one wants to or not.”

“One can only hope. But you can see why your past behavior does not engender complete trust in someone like Sir Martin.”

“I gather he is most trustworthy.”

“Well, he’s not prone to silly pranks and disgraceful behavior, so in that respect, yes. He is also honorable, respectable and quite brilliant.”

“He sounds perfect.”

“Good Lord, no.” She scoffed. “He is disorganized, prone to distraction and rarely sees anything through to completion.”

“I see. Quite a handful then for Lady Luckthorne,” he said even though he already knew there was no Lady Luckthorne.

“Oh, there is no Lady Luckthorne.”

“Then who manages his household, his staff, his social engagements? That sort of thing.”

“I do, of course.”

“I thought you were a secretarial assistant?”

“I fear the term is rather broad when it comes to Sir Martin.” She sipped her wine. “I do very nearly everything he needs so that he needn’t waste his valuable time and can spend it in more beneficial pursuits. Mostly of an intellectual or academic or scientific nature. Experiments and inventions and the like. As well as research, writing, collecting—that sort of thing.”

“And this honorable, respectable, brilliant gentleman sees nothing the least bit improper about an unmarried man working in close proximity with an unmarried woman in his own home.”

“Not at all.” She waved off the charge. “As there is nothing nor has there ever been anything untoward between us. Not that I would permit such a thing.”

“No doubt,” he said under his breath.

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Scandal, my dear India, is as often as not in the eyes of the beholder. As aboveboard and innocent as it might be, some people might view your employment with Sir Martin to be more of an arrangement than a legitimate position.” He braced himself.

She stared at him for a long moment, then snorted back what might have been a laugh. “Then some people have never met either Sir Martin or myself.”

“Yes, well, trust me when I say it’s not necessary to know someone personally to spread tales about their misdeeds. I am a prime example of that.”

“In your case, there are witnesses to your misadventures.” She smiled in a smug manner. “Dozens I would say, perhaps hundreds.”

“And there are no witnesses as to what transpires between an odd sort of chap and his lovely assistant behind closed doors.”

“Do not attempt to charm me, Derek, with words like lovely. It will not work. And furthermore nothing goes on behind closed doors with Sir Martin. I do feel a certain...sisterly affection for him. In the manner I imagine I would an older brother. And I’m certain any feelings that he might have for me are very much the same.” She paused to finish her wine. “Goodness, I’ve worked for the man for eight years. I would think he would have said something by now if he felt otherwise.”

“And if he did?”

“I would leave his employment at once.” She held out her glass to be refilled yet again. “I will not allow myself to be put in an awkward position.”

“And yet you insisted on traveling with me.”

“That’s entirely different. We—” she aimed a pointed finger at him “—are traveling in pursuit of a higher purpose. A noble calling, if you will. We are off to rescue Heloise.”

“Whether she wants rescuing or not.”

“And we have chaperones,” she added. “Nothing here for witnesses to spread gossip about.”

“Come now, India, I would have thought you far smarter than that.” He met her gaze directly. “Surely you realize, whether it’s true or not, the most interesting, most tantalizing, juiciest gossip is about that behavior that has no witnesses at all.”

“Regardless, that doesn’t mean one can do whatever one wants. There are rules, Derek. And rules are meant to be followed.”

“Always?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, then paused. “Although I suppose there might be extreme circumstances under which it might be acceptable to bend or even break a rule. I can’t think of an example offhand, but I am willing to acknowledge the possibility.”

“How very broad-minded of you,” he said with a grin and raised his glass to her. “Here’s to finding an example.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

One should keep in mind where one is bound when selecting attire for a journey. A wardrobe for the Egyptian desert would not be appropriate in the Bavarian Alps. However, one can never go far afield with a good-quality skirt and sturdy walking boots. The knowledgeable lady traveler always checks her luggage more than once to make certain it is properly labeled. Lost luggage will disrupt the trip of even the most steadfast among us.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

EVEN AT THE house she shared with Heloise in London, India dressed for dinner. It was proper and expected. But her gray suit was simply not up to the task of dining yet again in Lord Brookings’s ornate Parisian dining room with its mural-painted walls and sparkling gold-and-crystal chandelier. Still, she made do—she had no choice. It would have been rude to have stayed in her room. Nonetheless, being impolite might well have been better than being present at dinner. She wouldn’t have believed it possible but she felt even more out of place at the table with his lordship, Derek and the Greers than she had in the lobby of the first Grand Hotel although the second, third and all the way through today’s seventh, while not quite as grand, were still impressive.

It was early evening when Derek decreed they were finished for the day and insisted they return to his stepbrother’s house. Her trunk had still not been located, but Suzette assured her it had probably simply been placed in the wrong room, more than likely in the wrong wing, and every effort was being made to find it. India wasn’t sure she completely believed the woman. What she’d seen of the household staff did not inspire confidence in their efficiency. It was not the least bit surprising that they had misplaced her trunk. However, she had to admit, the food here was excellent, if a bit rich. Still, there was too much on her mind to enjoy the meal or partake in the lively conversation. No one seemed to notice.

It was obvious that Estelle had fallen under the spell of both Derek and Lord Brookings, given the way the older lady fluttered her lashes and emitted the occasional giggle, not to mention the look of adoration in her eyes. As if she were a schoolgirl and not a woman in her late fifties.

Professor Greer seemed to have succumbed to their charms, as well, and much of the conversation consisted of reminiscences of his student days in Paris thirty-some years ago. The three men dedicated a considerable amount of time to comparing and contrasting the Paris of today—with its newly widened boulevards and recently constructed edifices—with the Paris of the professor’s youth. And as much as he appreciated the modern look of the city, he did speak longingly of twisted medieval streets, narrow passageways and ancient buildings. There was a touch of longing, as well, in his memories of some of the more unsavory entertainments Paris had offered, and Lord Brookings assured him some things never change. Thankfully, Derek quickly directed the conversation toward other topics.

No, India would have preferred to avoid dinner altogether and wouldn’t have minded avoiding Derek, as well. She had not been inebriated at the café, but the wine had served to loosen her tongue. But when she reflected upon their conversation, there was little she said that she would not have said without the wine. Although she probably owed him an apology. Her dismissal of his desire not to disappoint was beyond rude; it was petty of her and unkind. A distinct sense of shame washed through her at the thought. He’d been nothing but nice to her, and she’d returned his kindness with sarcasm and disdain. Indeed, she couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t quite the scoundrel she’d thought he was but rather misguided in his attempt to prove his worth. It was a thought worth further consideration.

She excused herself after dinner, pleading weariness, which was not entirely untrue. Once more, she was forced to sleep in the same frilly nightwear she’d worn since her arrival while Suzette again took her clothes to be cleaned. While she wasn’t used to such luxury, the silken feel of the garment against her skin was delightful. The thought crossed her mind that she might wish to pamper herself and indulge in something similar when she returned home. And indulge in a mattress that was as welcoming as this one. Silly musings of course, no doubt attributable to this city and this house.

India had awoken this morning with renewed determination. She had again slept later than usual but woke earlier than the past two mornings, intending to join the rest of the household downstairs for breakfast. She’d surrendered to Suzette’s insistence on helping her dress and arranging her hair—even if the end result was decidedly more French than she would have preferred with her usual knot higher on her head and annoying tendrils of curls fringing her face. Suzette had declared it quite fetching, and India had wished to escape more than she’d wished to argue.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, entering the dining room. His lordship wasn’t present, no doubt this was entirely too early for him, but Derek and the Greers were engaged in animated conversation. Derek and the professor both stood at her arrival.

“Good morning, my dear.” Professor Greer smiled. “You look lovely today.”

“You do indeed, India.” Estelle nodded with enthusiasm. “Paris obviously agrees with you.”

“I wouldn’t wager on that.” Derek studied her curiously. “Is there something different about you today?”

“Nothing I can think of.” India resisted the urge to pat her hair back into its usual place. Her glance strayed to the sideboard. “Is that an English breakfast?”

“With a few French pastries thrown in for good measure.” Delight sounded in Estelle’s voice. “His lordship apparently appreciates the benefit of both French and English offerings at breakfast. Frederick and I think it’s a custom we might well adopt ourselves when we return home.”

“Lord Brookings has always believed in taking the best of both cultures,” Derek added. “There’s a specially blended coffee, as well.”

“How very...worldly of him.” India gestured to the others to take their seats, then hurried to the sideboard. It was a breakfast to rival even the heartiest offering to be found in England: eggs cooked three different ways, sausages, an assortment of cheeses, fish and fruit, as well as croissants and several other types of pastries. For a fleeting moment, she envied those whose wealth allowed them to indulge this way every morning. She filled her plate and took a seat at the table.

“Derek,” she began, “as much as I am eager to return to our search today, I’m afraid there will be an unavoidable delay.”

His brow rose. “A delay?”

She nodded. “I cannot continue to wear the same clothes day after day. As everyone has assured me my trunk must be here somewhere, I intend to take my maid and go through every room in this house until I find it.” India pulled apart a croissant and popped a bite in her mouth.

Derek and the professor traded glances.

“I do hope you intend to ask Lord Brookings before you go barging about his house, India,” Estelle said.

“I have every intention of doing so, but thank you for pointing that out to me.” India stabbed a piece of sausage. The sausages were particularly good.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, my dear,” the professor began, then glanced at Derek, who nodded in an encouraging manner. “But I was unaware your trunk was missing until this morning.”

Perhaps Heloise’s cook could learn to make French pastries.

“Frederick and Estelle had already left for the day when you awoke yesterday,” Derek said.

“Thank you for your concern, Professor,” India said and took a bite of eggs cooked with mushrooms and herbs. It was all she could do not to moan with delight.

“It’s more than concern really.” The professor cleared his throat. “I very much fear I am responsible.”

India froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Oh?”

“If I recall correctly, when I claimed our luggage the other night,” Professor Greer began, “it seemed more than sufficient for four people. There were a number of valises—I’m not sure exactly how many—and three trunks.”

“One of which was mine,” Derek said.

Estelle winced. “The others were ours.”

“I do apologize, but I had no idea we were missing your baggage.” Professor Greer shook his head. “I certainly would have said something at the time if I had realized we were one trunk short.”

“So my trunk is not in the house,” India said slowly.

“Apparently not.” Derek considered her with the same look one might give an unexploded bomb that could detonate at any moment. “However, the instant the professor informed me this morning, I personally returned to the station to see if your trunk was there with other lost bags.”

“And?” She held her breath.

“And...it wasn’t,” Derek said reluctantly. “It’s entirely possible it was somehow misdirected, and instead of coming to Paris it went off on its own travels.”

She set the fork down. “Where?”

Derek hesitated. “That does seem to be the question.”

She drew a deep breath and struggled to stay calm. “And do you have an answer?”

“Not yet.” Derek grimaced. “But I assure you, I am doing everything possible to recover your trunk. Val is lending his assistance, as well. I have no doubt it will turn up.” He paused. “Eventually.”

“Eventually?” She could barely choke out the word. “Eventually?”

“Sooner or later,” he said weakly.

“Yes, I know what eventually means,” she said sharply, her voice rising in spite of her best efforts.

“These things happen when one travels, my dear.” Estelle reached over and patted her hand. “I have never traveled myself, of course, but I understand this does happen on occasion. Why, one of the brochures from the Lady Travelers Society deals with this very subject and offers excellent advice on how to manage without one’s own things until one’s luggage is recovered.”

India had never experienced panic before, but what was surely panic rose within her now. “You belong to the Lady Travelers Society?”

“Oh my, yes.” Estelle dimpled. “I have from very nearly the beginning.”

And wasn’t that a revelation? Still, it scarcely mattered at the moment. Not when her stomach was twisting, and she could barely drag air into her lungs. Her vision narrowed, and the oddest black dots clouded the edge of her sight.

“If you will excuse me.” India got to her feet and braced her hands on the table, her knees unsteady as if they might fail her at any moment. Dear Lord, was this what it felt like to faint? She was not the type of woman who fainted. Indeed, she’d always had a certain contempt for women who fainted to avoid a pressing problem. In that, she might have been too harsh.

“Are you all right?” Derek jumped to his feet and circled the table toward her.

The professor frowned with alarm as he, too, stood. “You look extraordinarily pale.”

“No, I’m fine.” She pulled in a deep breath, then another.

“Are you sure?” Derek was beside her now, concern in his voice and his eyes. As well as a touch of what might well be guilt. “You don’t look well.”

Indeed, he should feel guilty. He was the one who had seen to the luggage at the beginning of their journey.

“No, really, I’m quite all right.” She straightened, her momentary distress swept aside by anger. Which would serve no one well. She needed to take her leave, at once, before she said something that would only make matters worse. “I think I shall retire to my room and consider all this.” She mustered a weak smile. “Thank you for your concern.” She quickly took her leave.

With every step, her ire eased. If one looked at this in a rational, sensible way, it probably wasn’t Derek’s fault, not completely. Oh certainly, he was responsible for the luggage, but as for the rest of it... It was simply easier to direct her fury at him than to place the blame where it belonged—squarely at her feet. But it had seemed such a clever idea at the time.

Martin had gone on and on about the dangers of travel. About thieves and pickpockets in cities like Paris. About the threats to women traveling even with companions. About how one could be knocked over the head and lose everything. It therefore didn’t seem at all wise to carry her funds in her traveling valise or on her person. Why, in her books of detection and mystery, where valuables were secreted in hidden places, no one ever found them until the final chapter. What could be safer than putting the bulk of her traveling funds in a hidden compartment in her trunk?

It had never been mentioned that the trunk itself could be lost!

She reached her room, closed the door behind her and collapsed against it. Good Lord, what was she going to do? She and Derek had agreed from the beginning that they would each pay their own expenses. The only money she had at the moment was what Martin had given her for telegraphs, and that would not last. At least as long as they remained in Paris, she did not have to pay for a hotel room. But when they left...she shuddered at the thought. She could not under any circumstances take money from Derek. That would be the same as taking it from ladies like Heloise herself.

She pushed away from the door and paced the room. There were few options. She could use what little money she had to return to England and abandon her search for Heloise—praying her cousin would at some point realize she had failed in her correspondence and write to her. Of course, that was assuming Heloise was indeed fine. It was also dependent upon prayer, and India was not confident in divine intervention. Surely God had other things to concern himself with than lost cousins and lost luggage. Besides, he’d never seemed to listen to her before.

No, the only real choice was to stretch what little she had and—should it be absolutely necessary—wire Martin for funds. He wouldn’t be at all averse to assisting her, but she hated the very thought of admitting her stupidity and asking for rescue. She was not a helpless female and did not want to be seen as one. Nor did she wish to be further indebted to Martin. She was already in his debt for her employment. She would send a final telegram, make up some sort of excuse as to why she wouldn’t be telegraphing him further and then make that money last as long as possible. And she would repay him every bit of it when she returned home.

A knock sounded at her door.

“Yes?”

The door opened, and Estelle poked her head in. “My dear girl, are you all right? Everyone is worried about you.”

“That’s very kind of you.” India forced a smile. “But you needn’t worry, I’m fine.”

“Oh, well, then, I’ll leave you be.” Disappointment flickered through the older woman’s eyes, and she turned to go. It really was quite nice of her—of all of them really—to worry about her. Especially given that she might not be the most congenial traveling companion.

“Don’t go,” India said without thinking. “That wasn’t entirely true.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not the least bit fine, I’m afraid.” India brushed an annoying tendril of hair away from her face. “Please, come in.”

“Of course.” Estelle’s face brightened, and she fairly bounced into the room. “You poor child. What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know.” India indicated an upholstered chair. “Do sit down.” Estelle settled in the chair and waited expectantly. India resumed pacing. “I’ve never not known what to do, at least not as far as I can remember. My life is usually well ordered and controlled. Things are not generally out of my hands.”

“This is an awkward situation.” Sympathy sounded in Estelle’s voice. “Although we are in Paris, so it’s not as bad as it could be.”

India paused in midstep. “I don’t see how it could be worse.”

“Nonsense. This is the fashion capital of the world, you know. I can’t imagine anything more fun than replenishing one’s wardrobe in Paris, even if one has limited means. It’s an opportunity that does not often come along, at least for most of us. And you have the perfect excuse.”

India stared. “I hadn’t even thought about clothes.”

“Well, you simply can’t continue to wear the same thing day after day.” Estelle’s gaze traveled over the gray dress from bodice to hem and back. “It’s beginning to look a bit—” she winced “—sad.”

“It is being cleaned every night.”

“Clean is one thing, dear. Worn is something else altogether.”

India glanced down at the dependable garment. “I think it’s holding up well.”

“Come now, India.” Estelle’s tone was gentle, as if she were trying to make a small child see reason. “Do you really?”

“Yes,” she said staunchly. “I do.”

Estelle’s brow arched upward.

“I’ve never been particularly concerned with fashion.”

“I’ve noticed, dear.”

“I prefer to choose my clothes for practical reasons—appropriateness and reliability, that sort of thing.”

“Not for appearance then?”

“No.” India shrugged.

“Never?”

“I’ve never seen the need.”

“I see.” Estelle considered her thoughtfully. “Have you never put on a new gown or a dress and enjoyed how it not only made you look but how it made you feel?”

“No.” India had never even considered such a thing.

“Goodness, even I have that experience very nearly every time I don a new frock. Admittedly, it’s been some time since the view in the mirror was as fetching as it once was...” A wistful smile curved Estelle’s lips. “But enough of that. It’s past time you had that same experience, too. Come along, India.” She rose to her feet. “We have shopping to do.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can.” Estelle waved off India’s objection. “As we shall certainly be here for some time, we shall order you some new clothes at once. Until then, there are a few shops here where clothes are sold ready-to-wear. I have already, out of mild curiosity, stopped at a few, and their charges are quite reasonable. Purchasing ready-made clothing is not something I would normally endorse, you understand, but necessity dictates a modicum of sacrifice. Although the purchase of Paris fashions, even those not made to order, is scarcely—”

“I can’t purchase any clothes.” India’s voice rose.

“Not only can you but you must,” Estelle said firmly.

“No, you don’t understand—I can’t.” India drew a deep breath. “Most of my money is hidden in my trunk.”

Estelle’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

“Is there a Lady Travelers Society pamphlet for that?” The panic India had thought laid to rest threatened to return in full force.

“I don’t know.” Estelle stared. “But there certainly should be a pamphlet. ‘What to Do When One Is in a Foreign Country with No Money.’ I shall suggest it when we return.” She hesitated. “But I suspect the first thing it might say is don’t put your money in luggage that could go astray.”

“Yes, well, that would be good advice.” India continued to pace. “I realize it sounds, oh, unwise—”

Estelle snorted, then coughed.

“But it did seem like such a clever idea at the time.” Still, what had she been thinking? Why, she’d been so caught up in worry about Heloise and preparing for a trip she’d never previously considered, with a man she didn’t trust, and Martin was going on and on about rogues and gypsies, and obviously she wasn’t thinking at all. India prided herself on her intelligence but, apparently, when one’s intellect failed, it did so in a spectacular manner. “I see now it was a stupid mistake. Why, if anyone else had done something this absurd—”

“You’d call them an idiot.” Estelle nodded. “And in no uncertain terms, I’d wager.”

India stared at the older woman. She’d never worried about what other people thought of her; it simply wasn’t important. She lived her life as she pleased. Of course, she’d never had a season, never been officially out in society, never even been to a ball. And never particularly cared about what she considered foolish nonsense. Was it even remotely possible that all those things she’d never done—never wanted to do—had made her into the kind of shrew who was so unyielding she couldn’t forgive fault in other people? Who saw nothing wrong in pointing out the flaws of others? Who spoke her mind regardless of what insult she might cause? Who belittled a man’s sincere desire not to disappoint?

Estelle was right. India would be the first to call someone who had made as ridiculous a mistake as she had an idiot. That was exactly what she would do. And she’d do so with a great deal of disdain and superiority.

“You’re right.” India sank down on the bed. “I probably would. How terribly...awful of me.”

“I’m not sure awful is the right word,” Estelle said.

India shot her a skeptical look.

“Although I suspect it’s fairly close. However...” Estelle adopted a no-nonsense attitude. “One cannot change if one doesn’t recognize there’s a problem, dear. You are an intelligent, outspoken, independent woman, and I see nothing wrong with that.” She smiled. “But you might consider accepting that the rest of us are flawed, mortal creatures who might not live up to your standards of perfection.”

India nodded slowly. “I could consider that.”

“And that’s all we can hope for. Now then, there’s little I can do about your finances, although I’m sure I can scrape together a bit of a loan. For now...” Estelle studied her closely. “Stand up for a moment so that I may get a good look at you.”

“Why?” India asked but stood nonetheless.

“Turn around please.” Estelle twirled her finger. “Slowly.”

“All right but why am I doing this?”

“So I can best determine which of the articles of clothing I brought with me would be suitable for you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“But you will. I insist, and I will not take no for an answer.” Estelle stood and circled India. “My things will need a few alterations here and there but nothing significant I wouldn’t think. We are of a similar height and while our bosoms are comparable, I’m afraid the rest of me is a bit more curved than you are.”

Stout was a more appropriate word. India cringed to herself. If she was to be less judgmental and, well, nicer, she needed to start now. If Estelle wanted to call herself curved, then curved she should be.

“I’m not unskilled with a needle and thread myself, but I would imagine one of the maids here is probably more adept than I am.” Estelle’s brow furrowed with thought. “I brought far more than I can possibly ever wear, but one never knows what one might encounter when traveling.”

“Is that advice from a Lady Travelers Society pamphlet?”

“Yes, I believe it is,” Estelle said absently, gathering some of the gray wool between her fingers and pulling it tighter. “You’re not quite as plump as I thought you were. It’s simply that your clothes are a bit ill fitting.”

“They are quite comfortable.”

“I imagine they are,” the older woman murmured. “I have several things that will do for you. At least one will take no more than a stitch here and there. I’ll fetch it at once and find a maid, as well.”

“Thank you, Estelle.” Wearing Estelle’s clothes would not have been her choice, but the offer was very kind. And the older woman was right—the gray wool was looking tired. While India was only of moderate means and had never given a second thought to fashion, she did prefer to look neat and precise.

Estelle turned to go.

“One more thing.” India hesitated. “I would appreciate it if you would not mention my financial difficulty to Mr. Saunders.”

“I think he will notice eventually.”

“Not if I’m careful. And not if we do indeed find my cousin soon, which we will surely do as we have only twenty or so more Grand Hotels at which to inquire.” Although it did seem rather a lot. She refused to consider their next step if Heloise was not at a Grand Hotel. If the word grand in her letter was nothing more than a description. Would they then have to inquire at every hotel with a grand appearance? And what if they didn’t find her in Paris at all? “And I did carry a little money with me.” India wasn’t used to asking anyone for anything, but pride did need to be set aside on occasion. “I would hate for him to know how foolish I was.” Strange, how important it seemed. Whatever else Derek might think of her, she would hate for him to think she was stupid.

“I can certainly understand that.” Estelle nodded. “Very well then, this shall be our secret.”

“Once again, you have my gratitude.” India released a relieved breath. “You’re being very kind, and I’ve done nothing to merit it.”

“Nonsense. I have no doubt you’d do the very same thing for me if our positions were reversed.”

India wasn’t entirely sure of that, but it was rather nice that Estelle thought so.

“I am also hoping that you and I can be friends.”

Friends? It had occurred to India the other day when Derek had mentioned something about her friends that, aside from Heloise and Martin, she had none. She’d never given it a second thought, and it had certainly never bothered her before. Odd that it did so now.

She smiled. “I would like that.”

“Good. Then as your friend, I must be honest and admit that providing you with a few garments is a benefit to me, as well. It gives me the opportunity to buy a few things here for myself.” Estelle grinned in what could only be called a wicked manner. “And I have always wanted a gown made in Paris.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I HAVE GIVEN this situation a great deal of thought,” Professor Greer said in a ponderous tone, as if he was about to make an announcement of importance or impart some gem of academic wisdom. For a moment, it was as though Derek had returned to the classroom.

“Which situation would that be, Professor?” Derek checked his pocket watch, then glanced once again at the parlor door. India had sent one of the maids to tell him she would meet him at this hour to continue their Grand Hotel search. She was late, which didn’t bother him at all really. Anything that extended their stay in Paris—even by as little as half an hour—was a benefit.

“Miss Prendergast’s lost luggage for one thing.”

“Nothing can be done about that, I’m afraid.” Derek shrugged in a helpless manner. “The best we can do is hope it makes its way to Paris. I gave the clerk at the station our address here and Miss Prendergast’s name, as well as pointed out she is the guest of the Marquess of Brookings. I further stated his lordship would be most grateful if Miss Prendergast’s trunk was recovered.”

“I daresay there isn’t more you can do than that.” The professor nodded thoughtfully. “Until then, however, Estelle and I would like to offer our services in the Paris search for Lady Heloise. Miss Prendergast was obviously quite distressed at learning her trunk had gone astray, so it occurred to me the sooner we find her cousin, the sooner we can leave Paris.”

“That occurred to you, did it?”

“It did.” He nodded. “There is nothing that upsets a lady more than knowing she has nothing to wear.”

Derek chuckled. “Miss Prendergast is not your usual female.”

“Yes, I have noticed that, as well. Still you cannot deny her dismay about the loss of her things.”

“She did seem quite distraught.” Indeed, she was far more upset than Derek would have expected. Although perhaps she was simply tired of her gray dress. Derek certainly was.

“I realize we are here only in the capacity of chaperone, but we would like to help.” The professor paused. “Do you and Miss Prendergast still suspect Lady Heloise may be staying in one of the numerous Grand Hotels in the city?”

“We do.”

“It will take a great deal of time to inquire at all of them, won’t it?”

“Well, we do want to be thorough and ask all the appropriate questions.”

The professor nodded.

“We’ve already visited the first seven on the list. There are only twenty or so left.”

“It will proceed much more quickly if my wife and I assist you. We can make inquires at half of those remaining. Divide and conquer, you know.”

“That’s most generous of you.” The last thing Derek wanted was to shorten their stay in Paris by speeding up the search. “But we couldn’t possibly accept your help.”

The professor frowned. “Why on earth not? The very reason you’re in Paris in the first place is to search for Lady Heloise.”

“Of course, but...” Why on earth indeed? Derek struggled for a plausible reason. “Miss Prendergast and I have it well in hand.”

“It seems to be going rather slowly to me.”

“On the contrary, we are progressing steadily, leaving no stone unturned and all.” And yet no plausible reason came to mind.

“I daresay—”

“However, while I am confident we can make inquiries at the Grand Hotels without assistance,” Derek said slowly, “there is something you can do.”

The professor smiled knowingly. “I thought there might be.”

“Lady Heloise had long wanted to visit Paris, and she intended to see everything there was to see here.”

“Quite right,” the professor said. “My wife expresses the same sentiment. I, of course, have seen it all before, but I, too, would like to reacquaint myself with the sights of the city.”

“Then we shall kill two birds with one stone, as they say.” Derek nodded. “You and Mrs. Greer can continue your own tour of Paris, and, in the process, inquire at the various monuments and museums if anyone has seen a woman matching Lady Heloise’s description. You have seen her photograph, haven’t you?”

“Miss Prendergast showed it to us on the train.”

“Excellent.” Derek beamed. “That will be a great help.”

“It seems rather inefficient to me,” the professor said.

“It is. But then we are looking for an older lady whose plans were not the least bit efficient or organized.”

“You do have a point.”

“I can think of no other way to go about this. She only sent two letters from Paris. In one, she wrote about a driving tour she took of the city, and in the other, she wrote in great detail about a daylong visit to the Louvre.”

“We can certainly query the attendants in the various galleries,” Professor Greer said, “as well as talk to those purveyors of driving tours around the city.”

“And, as you do, you will be able to see all the sights of Paris for yourselves.” Derek leaned toward him and lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “I would imagine Mrs. Greer would be most displeased if you didn’t. Unlike you, she has never been to Paris, and unless you plan on returning—”

“Probably not.” A regretful note sounded in the professor’s voice.

“Then this is her only opportunity.” Derek shook his head mournfully. “I would not want to be the one to deprive her of that.”

“Neither would I.” The older gentleman shuddered.

“In which case, this shall work brilliantly,” Derek said with an encouraging smile.

“It still strikes me as a haphazard way to search for Lady Heloise.”

“Professor,” Derek said sincerely, “if you have a better idea, I am certainly willing to consider it.”

“I wish I did.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid finding lost items has never been my forte. It’s an enormous city, and given the influx of more travelers than usual for the exposition and the opening of Monsieur Eiffel’s tower, it seems rather futile, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it does.” Derek considered the other man for a moment. The professor was a good sort and could no doubt be trusted. And Derek could certainly use an ally. “Might I confide something to you? In the strictest of confidence?”

“Certainly.”

“My uncle offered to assist in our quest by hiring detectives. He suggested I keep Miss Prendergast searching for Lady Heloise in Paris while his investigators retrace her path and try to locate her. It will keep Miss Prendergast’s mind off the possibility that something terrible has happened to her cousin. And if something has, well, it might be best if she and I are not the ones to discover that.”

Professor Greer nodded.

“The longer we keep her here, the better the chances that my uncle’s endeavors will bear fruit.”

“I see.”

“There is one other thing.” Derek chose his words with care. “Miss Prendergast does not trust me. I have not lived a spotless life, but I assure you, while my misdeeds might have walked the edge of scandal, they did not include violations of the law.” At least not any serious, important laws.

“That is good to know.” The professor chuckled wryly, then sobered. “I know better than most the kinds of ill-conceived behavior young men are prone to. However, even in the most reckless youth, I have usually been able to ascertain his true nature. See what kind of a man he will eventually become, that sort of thing. I have long prided myself on my judgment of a man’s character.” He met Derek’s gaze directly. “I am confident you are a good man.”

The oddest flush of pride washed through Derek. “Thank you, sir.” He paused. “There is one other matter.”

“Go on.”

“While I wish to find Lady Heloise, I also wish to protect my great-aunt. Miss Prendergast is convinced the Lady Travelers Society is to blame for her cousin’s disappearance through ineptitude or incompetence or misrepresentation. I have discovered that before we left England, she spoke to police about the society.”

Professor Greer’s eyes widened in indignation. “I cannot believe anyone would think such a thing about any endeavor involving Lady Blodgett.”

“Fortunately, neither did the authorities. As long as Miss Prendergast is in Paris, she is not trying to convince police to badger my great-aunt.” He heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “Poor old thing.”

“Why, I can’t imagine such an indignity!” The professor practically sputtered with outrage. “I have known Lady Blodgett for longer than I care to admit, and I considered Sir Charles not only a fellow enthusiast in the pursuit of knowledge but a true friend. We cannot allow so much as a hint of illegality to fall on dear Lady Blodgett’s head.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Derek said with relief. “I should tell you, as well, I received a telegram from my uncle this morning. He thinks there might be good news soon.”

“I do hope so. For now, though.” He squared his shoulders. “We shall carry on.”

“I would appreciate if you not mention the telegram to Miss Prendergast. I would hate to get her hopes up.”

“I won’t say anything to Estelle, either. I’ve never known the woman to keep her mouth shut about anything. But you may rest assured Derek, unlike my wife, I am the very soul of discretion. I will not breathe a word of this.”

“A word of what?” India appeared in the doorway.

Bloody hell. How much had she heard?

“Nothing of significance.” Derek adopted a casual tone.

“No, indeed, my dear. Nothing of significance, nothing at all,” the professor said in an overly jovial manner. “Just the sort of thing one man says to another when waiting for ladies to make an appearance. Eh, Derek.” He nudged Derek with his elbow in a show of masculine solidarity. “You know how gentlemen are.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Do explain it to me.”

Derek forced a chuckle. “I’m afraid explaining the complexity of the male mind would take entirely more time than we wish to spend today.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe,” she said, pulling on a glove. “Furthermore, I would debate your use of the word complexity.”

“And I must find my wife.” Professor Greer started for the door. “We are off to the Louvre today, and there is much to see.” He glanced at India long enough to see she was not looking at him, then winked broadly at Derek, one conspirator to another. Good Lord. Derek bit back a groan. Still, at least the professor would now be on his side.

“Well?” India demanded. “Are you going to tell me what the professor was not going to say a word about?”

“Absolutely not. I would never betray his confidence. Why, you would probably go running right to Estelle and the next thing you know...”

“What?”

He had been too busy evading her suspicions to pay any attention but now he couldn’t help but notice how...how frilly she looked.

“It’s impolite to stare, you know.”

“I am aware of that.” Still, he couldn’t help himself. She was distinctly frilly and ruffled and beribboned. Her dress was a deep shade of vivid purple, the bodice festooned with ruffled lace, the skirt split to reveal a black-and-white-striped underskirt. He struggled to restrain a laugh. “My apologies, India, but I can’t help myself. My gaze is as drawn to you as a moth to a flame.”

“Understandable but bad mannered nonetheless.” She paused, then grimaced. “It’s dreadful, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know that dreadful is the right word.” He swept his gaze over the purple concoction with its ruffles and stripes and tried not to cringe. “Frankly, I thought your stern gray dress was rather awful.”

She shot him a menacing look.

“Although the gray does suit you,” he murmured. “And it might well be fashionable somewhere.”

She ignored him. “Estelle was kind enough to offer me some of her things and had a maid do a few quick alterations. By the time I realized how truly terrible the dresses were, it was too late to refuse the offer. And I did not want to offend her.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She glared at him.

He shrugged. “My apologies, but thus far, I have not noticed any overt concern on your part for the feelings of others. In the beginning, I attributed that to worry about your cousin, but the longer we are together—”

“Yes, yes, I’ve been made aware of that.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “And I am trying to cultivate a more pleasant disposition.” She held her arms out and glanced down at her dress. “This is apparently the price one pays for being nice.”

“I’m sure you’ll get your reward in heaven.”

“I would have to.”

“It fits well though.” He studied her with a critical eye. He had seen more than his share of well-dressed ladies in the latest styles. “Better than your gray I would say.”

She frowned. “Estelle said the same thing.”

“Perhaps that should give you a hint.”

“A hint?”

“All right, a smack across the face then.” He grinned. “Even if you are not pursuing marriage, I don’t know why anyone in their right mind—male or female—would not want to look their best.”

“I do look my best.” A defensive note sounded in her voice. “I am unfailingly neat and most presentable in my appearance.”

“Your appearance—” he knew this was a mistake and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself “—fairly screams your sensible, rational, efficient nature.”

“I see nothing wrong with that,” she said in a lofty manner.

“It also says you are unyielding, unwilling to even consider compromise, always right, unfailingly stubborn—”

“You needn’t continue, Derek. You have made your point,” she said sharply and shook her head. “Women who fuss about their appearance tend to be silly, useless creatures, and I have no desire to be one of them. I do not wish to be measured by how I look, but rather for my abilities.”

“Surely you realize one does not necessarily preclude the other? It has been my observation that when people look their best they generally do their best. It’s a matter of confidence.”

“I have never lacked for confidence.”

“Disdaining what everyone else cares about is not confidence. I would say it’s more concealment. Or protection.”

“Nonsense.” A blush colored her face.

“So, just out of idle curiosity mind you...” He studied the ensemble. “Are the other things Estelle loaned you—”

“Equally distressing?” She nodded. “This was the best of the lot.” She sighed. “She is a very nice woman.”

“Paris is known for its fashion. You could certainly buy something here—”

“No, I think not,” she said quickly. “I would hate to offend Estelle by the implication that her taste is questionable.”

“My, you are making an effort.”

“I am trying.” Resolve rang in her voice.

He had to give her credit. For any woman—even one who claimed not to place much store in appearance—to dress in such an ill-suited ensemble simply to avoid offending someone else, did indeed point to a certain decency of character.

“Are we ready?”

His brow shot upward. “To appear in public?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What will people say?” He grinned.

“I’ve never cared what people say.” She paused. “But I suspect they will wonder at your intelligence for escorting a woman who dresses in such a manner.”

“I shall try to endure it bravely.” He offered her his arm.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be that confident if I were you.” This time he was sure her smile was genuine, as was the teasing look in her eye. There was no doubt that this India Prendergast was not the same woman who had left England. Whether that was for good or ill remained to be seen. She took his arm, and they started toward the hall. “There’s a hat that matches the dress.”

* * *

INDIA WAS RIGHT. The hat was absurd. But it did go well with the dress. And as the day went on, India’s ensemble looked less and less ridiculous. Derek realized it was only in contrast to her usual severe style of dress that made it seem so frivolous. In truth, it softened her entire appearance. And possibly her demeanor, as well.

It could have been her determination to be more pleasant in nature or it might have been the magic of Paris at last spinning its spell, but there was a marked difference in the woman by his side today. As if—with the wearing of well-fitting, utterly feminine attire—a burden of responsibility and sensibility had eased from her shoulders. Certainly she was still concerned about her cousin and her missing trunk—as evidenced by the worry that creased her brow whenever the topics arose—but even that did not appear to distress her the way it had this morning.

She scarcely protested at all when he ordered wine with their midday meal, and her objection struck him as more cursory than legitimate. And she’d given in fairly easily to his suggestion that they take a respite from their tour of Grand Hotels to stroll through the Jardin des Tuileries. With the Arc de Triomphe visible at the far end and the garden’s water basins, riotous blooms and classical statues, there was no better place on a fine June day to truly feel the spirit of Paris.

Indeed, while their late start meant they only managed to check three more Grand Hotels off his list, it was obvious India had enjoyed their day, in spite of her clear determination not to. Her green eyes sparkled with interest, and there was color in her cheeks. Although he had seen a hint that first morning they’d talked in her room, this new India was unexpected. He would never have described her as beautiful, but today she was surprisingly appealing. The kind of woman one wanted to know better. Shocking what a change of heart and clothing could do for a woman.

Beyond that, she was interesting. She had firm views on literature, an excellent knowledge of antiquities—as he discovered when they’d passed by a store window with a display of ancient coins—and was better versed than he on the issues of the day. Unlike most women he knew, she did not hesitate to express her opinion when it might conflict with his own. India Prendergast was not the type of woman to hide her intelligence, and he found that both intriguing and delightful.

But the more he enjoyed her company, the more he wanted to be with her, the more his conscience nagged at him. He hadn’t been honest with her, and he couldn’t ignore a growing sense of unease. Guilt probably. Certainly all he was really hiding was his uncle’s involvement in searching for Lady Heloise. Of course, Derek had sent her luggage astray in an effort to lengthen their stay in Paris, which probably was unforgivable. As much as his conscience might bother him, he vowed never to let her know about that. As for the rest, Aunt Guinevere was family and as such was his responsibility. Until India’s cousin was found safely, his great-aunt’s future was at stake. Keeping India in Paris—and away from the authorities—was still an excellent idea. Besides, when one really considered everything, he was doing nothing more than extending a lady’s stay in one of the most exciting cities in the world. Pity the one woman in the world who wouldn’t appreciate that was the one he needed to keep here.

Even as he dressed for dinner, he couldn’t get his mind off this new India. Would she be wearing the purple dress again or did Estelle have something else in mind for her? He rather hoped so. He did like surprises. Good ones anyway.

Bloody hell. He paused in his efforts to knot his necktie and stared in the mirror. He was beginning to like her. Perhaps more than like her. This was certainly a surprise and he wasn’t sure if it was good or very, very bad.

India Prendergast was the exact opposite of everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. She was soundly practical, terribly sensible and horribly annoying. She knew everything, or at least she thought she did. She was stubborn and determined and overly concerned with propriety. And he had serious concerns over whether she ever indulged in anything he would consider fun. In very nearly every way he could think of, she wasn’t at all his type of female, not the type he was usually attracted to. The type he dreamed about. The type he fell in love with.

This was not, by any means, love. The very idea was ridiculous. He’d been in love several times, and whatever he was feeling now was nothing like that. No, love in his experience was swift and all-consuming and, for good or ill, brief.

One did not fall in love with the indomitable India Prendergast. Even if she was clever and independent and self-assured. Even if her smile seemed a reward for good behavior. Even if the best moments of the day were those spent with her, especially those when he was driving her mad. And hadn’t the thought of kissing her lingered in his mind? He grinned at his image. It made no sense, but there it was. In a few short days, she had become a part of his life. Filled a hole he hadn’t known was empty.

Had he already lost his heart to India Prendergast? It was an interesting question. A question fraught with both excitement and terror. A question that, at the moment, he couldn’t answer. Not really. Even more interesting was whether it was even remotely possible that he could win her heart. Finding her cousin and keeping Aunt Guinevere and her friends out of prison paled in comparison to that.

But there was no question about one thing.

In more ways than he had imagined, India Prendergast was the biggest challenge of his life.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

One should prepare oneself for travel by investigating in advance the places one intends to visit through lectures and books and the experiences of friends. It is always wise to know which places in a foreign locale are welcoming to visitors and which are hostile. Which are suitable and respectable for lady travelers, and which to avoid at all costs. Not availing oneself of such information in advance can be at best awkward, at worst scandalous, even dangerous.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

A SHARP RAPPING like the sound of a small, determined bird sounded at her door.

“Come—”

“India, I need your assistance.” Estelle burst into the room. “Or possibly your advice. Although I’m not certain I will listen to it. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but this is most concerning. There are consequences and repercussions, and, well, you understand.”

“Not in the least, but please, come in.” India waved her into the room. She’d been reading Mr. Bazalgette’s Agent and was nearly ready to put the book down and prepare for bed. It had been an exceptionally trying day.

Still, there was nothing better than lending assistance and giving advice. Why, those were two of the things she did best and among the reasons Martin valued her so highly. Resolving Estelle’s difficulty—whatever it might be—was just the sort of thing India needed to feel more like herself. Besides, Estelle had helped India when she needed it. India could do no less for her. “How may I help?”

“I’m not sure, but you are so terribly competent and rational and sensible.” Estelle pressed her lips together in a determined manner. “Competent, rational and sensible are exactly what is needed at the moment.”

“You have always struck me as extremely rational and sensible,” India said although Estelle seemed neither rational nor sensible at the moment.

“That seems to be eluding me tonight.” The older woman blew an annoyed breath. “It’s about Frederick.”

“Has something happened to him?” Concern squeezed India’s heart. “He seemed fine at dinner. Is he ill?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I almost wish it were.”

“Then what on earth is the matter?”

“Frederick and Lord Brookings have gone to...well, I don’t know how to put this delicately.”

“Nor is it necessary,” India said firmly. “When one is as distraught as you are, the time for delicacy has passed.”

“You’re right of course.” Estelle adopted a resolute expression. “They’ve gone to an...establishment. In Montmartre.”

India stared. “I have no idea what that means.”

“You really need to do at least a modicum of inquiry before you travel again, dear,” Estelle said in a chastising manner. “Montmartre is a district of Paris known for its less-than-respectable entertainment. Cabarets and dance halls and the like. Some of which feature women clad in most suggestive costumes or even none at all. The area is frequented by artists and writers and students and is considered quite Bohemian.”

“I see.”

“Frederick is unfailingly cognizant of proper behavior, but we are in Paris, after all.” Estelle turned on her heel and paced the room. “I assure you this is not at all like him. He does not usually frequent that sort of place.”

“What sort of place?” India asked, although she was beginning to have her suspicions.

“I suppose it’s to be expected. What man wouldn’t seize the opportunity to relive a few moments of his lost youth? I certainly wouldn’t mind reliving a few moments of my younger days. That’s how it all began, you know. All that talk at dinner with Frederick going on and on about his time here when he was a student.”

“Yes, of course.” In truth, India had paid no attention whatsoever.

“It’s not as if I don’t trust him,” Estelle continued. “I do. Implicitly. After all, if we don’t have trust between us after all these years, what do we have? Trust between a man and woman is everything, and we have trusted one another from the beginning. I’m not sure love is possible without trust.”

“Probably not.” India had no idea what to say. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what the problem is. If you are not concerned about this outing with Lord Brookings—”

“I’m concerned about who might see him and his lordship.” She paused. “Although I daresay, Lord Brookings won’t be. He does seem to be that sort of man, doesn’t he?”

“If you mean the sort of man who doesn’t care about appearances, who is self-centered, irresponsible and entirely too arrogant? Then yes, that is an accurate description of his lordship.”

“You don’t like him, do you?”

“Oddly enough, I think I do like him.” India shook her head. “It’s hard not to like him.”

“As do I—where was I?”

“Your concern about someone seeing the professor at this establishment.”

“Yes, well, it seems every time we turn around here, we are running into someone we know. Frederick has quite a respected reputation in certain circles, academic for the most part, and of course he’s a member of the Explorers Club and various other organizations.” She shook her head. “I had no idea Paris would be so crowded with subjects of Her Majesty although I suppose it is a world exhibition, isn’t it?”

“Go on.”

“Just this morning, we crossed paths at the Louvre with several ladies I know from London, and I joined them for refreshments while Frederick examined a display of medieval manuscripts. The ladies were bemoaning the fact that their husbands were determined to visit Montmartre. The group included Mrs. Marlow, the wife of George Marlow.” Her eyes narrowed. “If Frederick has any sort of rival, George Marlow would be it. He’s always been envious of Frederick’s accomplishments.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“If Marlow—if anyone from London—sees Frederick there...” She shuddered. “They will deny it, but men gossip far more than they would have us believe. Mark my words, in less than a day after they return home, everyone will know Frederick was spotted at highly unsuitable places. That beastly Marlow will make certain of it. You know how these things are—the gossip will grow out of all proportions. It will ruin him.”

“But won’t these gentlemen be tarnished with the same brush?”

“Frederick is held to a higher standard. This is a very delicate time. I’m not supposed to say anything—” she glanced from side to side as if to make sure they were alone and lowered her voice “—but there is talk that the queen is considering a knighthood for him. And you know how Her Majesty is about things like this.”

“So I have heard.” India could well imagine the queen would not be at all inclined to knight a man who was seen in questionable surroundings, even far from home. Her Majesty was known to be intolerant of the merest hint of impropriety.

“I had no idea he was going tonight. Why, he and Lord Brookings and Derek retired to the billiards room after dinner. I went to our rooms to read and dozed off. When I woke, Frederick had still not returned. That’s when I discovered he and his lordship had decided on a foray to Montmartre.”

“It seems to me,” India said, “you are anticipating a problem that does not yet exist. It’s rather far-fetched to think that in a city the size of Paris two acquaintances from London will encounter one another.”

“Men, my dear India, are men.” Estelle cast her a condescending look. “They are all prone to adventures of a disconcerting nature. I would not be the least bit surprised if Marlow wasn’t in Montmartre at this very moment.”

“Still—”

“I will not allow Frederick’s chances at a knighthood to be shattered because of one ill-advised venture.” Estelle folded her arms over her chest. “Therefore, I intend to fetch him myself and bring him back.”

India stared. “Surely you’re not serious.”

“I have never been more serious.” A determined look shone in Estelle’s eyes. “I have supported that man through nearly forty years of marriage, and I will not fail him now. A knighthood would be his crowning achievement, and he deserves it. And I deserve to be Lady Greer.”

India shook her head. “This does not strike me as a good idea.”

“I didn’t say it was a good idea, but it is the only one I have.” She squared her shoulders. “And I would very much appreciate it if you would accompany me.”

“Because two Englishwomen on such an excursion would be less improper than just one?”

“Because your French is much better than mine.” Estelle grimaced. “And I prefer not to go by myself. If you have a better idea...”

“I wish I did.” India thought for a moment. Estelle’s plan was unwise and ill conceived. Her reasoning was based on nothing more than emotion and distress. India had not known the older woman long but she had no doubt she would indeed try to find her wandering husband alone if India refused to accompany her. “Although I believe I know who might.” She started toward the hall. “Come along.”

“Where?” Estelle hurried behind her.

“If there’s anyone among us who would know best how to evade scandal, it would be he who has experienced it firsthand.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Unless Derek accompanied your husband and his lordship—”

“He didn’t. At least according to the butler, but I believe Derek has already retired for the night.”

“Well then, we shall have to beard the lion in his den.” India headed toward Derek’s rooms.

“Are you sure?” Doubt sounded in Estelle’s voice. “I’ve never visited a man in his bedroom before. I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

India glanced at her. “Now you are considering what is and is not appropriate?”

Estelle shrugged.

“Regardless...” India stopped before Derek’s door. Estelle had come to India for help, and help she would have. India gathered her courage and knocked sharply on his door. “A knighthood is at stake.”

A moment later the door opened. Derek, clad in a deep red dressing gown, stared at her. “What?” His gaze skipped to Estelle, then back to India. “Ladies,” he said cautiously. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“We have need of your assistance,” India said firmly, ignoring how rakishly charming he looked.

“Do you?” He stepped back and waved them into his room. “Come in then, by all means.”

India stepped into his room, Estelle right on her heels. India had never been in a gentleman’s bedroom before and never imagined she would be. Especially not with said gentleman dressed in attire unsuitable to receive female callers.

“Oh, this is nice.” Estelle glanced around the room approvingly.

It was indeed nice. Twice as big as India’s, it was a suite of rooms really. A sitting area complete with a sofa and desk adjoined a bedchamber via an open archway. Whereas the furniture in her room was in shades of pastels and white and decidedly feminine in nature, his had a distinctly masculine flair with carved, dark woods. Her gaze was irresistibly drawn to the adjoining room, where an enormous armoire and an equally enormous mahogany bed dominated the space. Heat washed up her face, and she jerked her gaze back to Derek. Which was no better at all.

His dressing gown was the color of a rich claret, deep and decidedly sinful and worn over trousers. A fringed sash cinched his waist and a white shirt was open at his throat. The man was the epitome of, well, seduction. Only the fact that his hair was slightly ruffled, as if he’d run his hands through it, giving him an appealing boyish quality, saved him from looking positively dangerous. She glanced at Estelle, who stared at Derek in open admiration.

His gaze shifted between the women. “I assume you’re here for a reason.”

“Yes, of course.” India cleared her throat. “The professor needs your help.”

“Oh?”

“His lordship has taken the professor to a questionable establishment in Montmartre.”

Estelle continued to stare. India groaned to herself. You would think the woman had never seen a dashing scoundrel in a dressing gown before. She probably hadn’t, but she was married, after all. Admittedly, while the professor and Derek were both men, that’s where the similarity ended. India nudged the other woman.

“Oh.” Estelle started. “Yes, of course.” She drew a deep breath. “I believe they intended to make an evening of it.”

“I know,” Derek said. “They discussed stopping in at the Folies Bergère when we were having port and cigars in the billiards room.”

“I’m rather impressed that you thought better than to accompany them to such a place,” India said.

“I didn’t think better of it.” He shrugged. “I simply had no desire to go.”

“Regardless, that’s to our benefit.” She nodded at Estelle.

Again, he looked from one woman to the other. “I’m not sure what you want from me.”

“We want you to find the professor before acquaintances of his from London spot him in surroundings that can only be described as immoral, which would surely lead to his disgrace and ultimate ruin,” India said.

“Disgrace and ultimate ruin?” He chuckled. “Aren’t you being a bit dramatic? It’s not uncommon for tourists to visit the sights of Montmartre.”

India traded glances with Estelle.

“It really is a matter of disgrace and ultimate ruin.” Estelle chewed on her lower lip. “I’m not at liberty to tell you why, but please believe me this is crucial for Frederick’s future.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Very well,” he said at last. “It will take me a few minutes to change. Then I will be on my way.”

“Excellent.” Estelle nodded. “I shall meet you in the foyer.”

India braced herself. “We shall meet you in the foyer.”

Estelle smiled at her gratefully.

“I have no intention of bringing the two of you along with me.” Derek stared in disbelief. “This is not the sort of area for well-bred English ladies. It’s frequented by men and...working women for the most part.”

“The fate of my husband is at stake.” Estelle raised her chin in a determined manner. “I will not be left behind.”

“And Estelle is my...my friend.” India doubted she’d ever said that before about anyone other than Heloise or Martin. “She came to me for help, and I will not abandon her now.” India crossed her arms over her chest. “Are we going or not?”

“Very well.” His jaw tightened. “But you’ll limit your observations to what you can see on the street. And you will both stay in the carriage.”

“We can agree to that.” India glanced at Estelle, who nodded. “Five minutes then,” India said and ushered Estelle out the door.

Before she could follow, Derek stepped close and lowered his voice. “I can do this myself, you know.”

“No doubt.” India shrugged. “But Estelle is determined, and I cannot allow her to go without me.”

“Because you don’t trust me.” His eyes narrowed. “I assure you I am more than capable of finding the professor and returning him safely to his wife.”

“I am well aware of that, and in this particular case, I do trust you.” Even as she said the words, she knew they were true. “But Estelle asked for my help. Therefore, I consider this quest my responsibility, and I intend to see it through to the end.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard but I know better than to try to argue with you.” He heaved a frustrated sigh and stepped back. “Now, unless you intend to assist me in changing my clothing—”

“That I’m certain you can manage without me.” She nodded and took her leave.

A quarter of an hour later they were in one of his lordship’s closed carriages headed for Montmartre. It did seem to take forever or perhaps it was simply that the silence in the carriage was deafening. Derek was not at all happy with them and apparently thought it better not to say anything at all than to continue to express his annoyance. Fine. India would rather listen to her own thoughts than listen to him. Especially as he was probably right.

She should have convinced Estelle to let Derek come alone. This was not the sort of thing India did. Ever. She was at all times cognizant of the need for propriety. She was not prone to, nor had she ever had, any secret desire for adventure. Nonetheless, she had the oddest sense of anticipation. It was ridiculous and yet there it was.

At last they pulled up on the opposite side of the street from a large, decorative building plastered with playbills on the ground floor. On the upper story, multiple window panes were divided by ornate columns. The edifice was topped by wrought stonework running the width of the building, with a curved and graceful design and a sort of crown in the center. Immediately beneath the crown were the words Folies Bergère. The place fairly reeked of immorality and indiscretion and decadence. Although immorality, indiscretion and decadence apparently had a great deal of appeal. Even at this late hour, the streets were crowded with vehicles and pedestrians.

“This is where they said they were going.” Derek nodded at the building. “It’s a sort of cabaret or music hall.”

“It’s very busy, isn’t it?” Estelle murmured.

“It’s extremely popular.” He glanced at India. “What do you think?”

“Sin is usually popular,” she said with a casual shrug. “We will indeed remain in the carriage. I believe you were right.”

He raised a brow. “Again?”

“Again. And you needn’t be smug about it.”

He chuckled. “Oh, but I enjoy being smug.” He grabbed the door handle. “I would wager the doorman knows Val by sight. It won’t take me long to see if he’s here or not.” He opened the door and smiled wickedly at India. “You should probably give me a token for luck.”

Estelle nodded. “Like a knight of old going off to do battle.”

“Don’t be absurd. He’s venturing into a veritable den of iniquity not a duel to the death. And I daresay it’s not the first time.”

“Still, a token for luck. A glove perhaps or—” his smile widened “—a kiss.”

India arched a brow in disdain, but the oddest thing happened to the pit of her stomach.

Estelle clucked her tongue. “Goodness, Derek, you are naughty.”

He grinned in an unrepentant manner. “I know.” He nodded at India. “She likes it.”

India gasped. “I most certainly do not!”

He laughed, stepped out of the carriage and turned back to India. “Are you certain about that kiss?”

“Quite certain,” she said firmly, ignoring a vague sense of regret. Still, a kiss? She would never so much as consider such a thing. “Besides, a kiss here in this part of Paris, at this time of night, well, I can only imagine what an observer might think. People would jump to all sorts of conclusions, and Estelle and I wouldn’t be the least bit safe. Even in the carriage.”

“Now you’re probably right.”

“I know.” It was her turn to sound smug.

“I shouldn’t be long.” He nodded and headed toward the music hall.

Estelle switched to the opposite side of the carriage, and both women tried not to stare at the passing scene. They couldn’t help themselves. It was impossible to ignore. Here were the pleasure seekers of Paris. Well-dressed gentlemen reeking of wealth and elegance mingled with working men, rougher in appearance in clothes that had seen better days. The women, too, were mostly of a working class although, judging from the appearance of a great many, not all their work was respectable.

Estelle nodded toward a particularly garish-looking woman. “Do you think that she is, well—”

“Yes, I think she probably is,” India said uneasily. She was not so sheltered as to be unaware of women who sold their bodies, and probably their souls, to survive. God knows there were plenty in London. Nor was she so narrow-minded as to believe these women had a choice. More than likely circumstances of birth and poverty had left them few options in life. Legitimate work for women, especially those of the lowest classes, was scarce. Why even someone such as herself—of good family and modest means—had little opportunity for honest employment. She was well aware that a dire fate was never far from any woman who had no husband or family to depend upon.

“India!” Estelle grabbed her arm. “Look, across the street—isn’t that Frederick?”

“I can’t tell. He’s too far away.” India peered at the top-hatted figure headed away from them.

“I can’t make him out. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.” Estelle reached for the door.

“You’ll never catch him. I’ll go.” Even as India opened the door, she knew this was not her brightest idea. “Stay here.”

She jumped out of the carriage, dodged the oncoming traffic and fairly sprinted to the other side of the street. She hurried after the man, striding ahead of her at a leisurely speed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted he was unaccompanied and wondered where Lord Brookings was.

“Professor,” she called. He was still a few strides away. She picked up her pace. “Professor.” She reached out and grabbed his arm.

He turned, and she realized her mistake.

“I beg your pardon.” He directed a disgusted look at her hand on his arm.

She released him at once. “My apologies. I thought you were someone else.”

“No doubt.” He was the right height and build as the professor and even sported the same style of beard, and he was certainly English, but there the resemblance ended.

“I am sorry.” She took a step back.

“As well you should be.” His bushy brows drew together. “An Englishwoman like yourself. I assure you, I am not in the market for what you are selling.”

“Not in the—oh!” She gasped, indignation washed though her. “I’ll have you know I am not selling anything. This was an honest mistake.”

“A mistake perhaps but allow me to question the honesty of it.” He huffed, turned and strode away.

For a moment, India could only stare. How dare he! Why, she’d never been so insulted in her life! Just because a respectable woman wore a purple dress in a questionable area of a city did not mean she was an...unfortunate! That gentleman—although one did have to question that—deserved a stern dressing-down on the insulting consequences of jumping to conclusions. And she was just the woman to do it! She took a step after him and caught sight of Estelle gesturing from the window of the carriage. India pulled up short.

What on earth was she thinking? Certainly his insult had earned him an impassioned rebuke, but nothing, save perhaps a measure of self-satisfaction, could be gained by going after the man. And what would Derek say if he knew she’d left the carriage after she’d said she wouldn’t? She turned toward the carriage.

“What a shame, mademoiselle.” A large, dark-eyed brute with an unrestrained mustache and stubble on his chin stepped in her path. His French was not as refined as hers, but she had no trouble understanding his words. Or the look in his eye. “To be tossed aside that way. Stupid English.” He turned his head and spit in a most revolting manner.

“I beg your pardon.” She drew herself up to her full if inadequate height. “I am English.”

“My apologies, mademoiselle. But you are the English rose, and he is a fool.” He leaned close, the garlic on his breath nearly overwhelming. “And I am a lover of flowers.” He grabbed her arm.

“Unhand me at once.” She tried to shake off his hand, but his grip tightened. She couldn’t recall ever having been afraid before, but what was surely fear rose in her throat.

“I would do as she asks if I were you,” a familiar voice said casually.

Relief washed through her. “Derek, I—”

“Shut up, India,” he said in English, then returned his attention to her admirer. “It would be in your best interest to release her.”

“Why? She is available, is she not?” A predatory gleam showed in the brute’s eyes. The man was a good half a foot taller than Derek, broader and harder looking. Derek was obviously no match for this man. “And I like them small and spirited.”

Derek stepped closer to the man and spoke low into his ear. The brute’s eyes widened; he let her go at once and leaped back. He crossed himself, staring at her as if she were the devil incarnate. “Mon Dieu.” He turned and sprinted away.

“Come along, India.” Derek grabbed her elbow and hurried her toward the carriage. “Now.”

“What did you say to him?” She looked over her shoulder. Her assailant hadn’t so much as slowed his step.

“I told him I was a doctor, you were my patient who had escaped from my care and you were highly contagious.”

India could barely keep up with him. “What did you say I had?”

“You don’t want to know,” he said in hard, clipped tones. They reached the carriage, he yanked open the door and practically tossed her inside. She plopped down beside Estelle, who patted her hand in encouragement. Derek gave directions to the driver, then took his seat. She couldn’t see his face in the dark interior, but it wasn’t necessary to know he was annoyed with her.

“Are you all right?” Estelle asked, concern in her voice.

“Quite.” India summoned a measure of calm. “Obviously that was not the professor.”

“But it was very brave of you to go after him.”

“Brave?” Derek fairly sputtered with outrage. More than merely annoyed then. “Stupid is a more accurate term.”

“I have always heard there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity,” Estelle said, obviously trying to be helpful.

“Derek, I—”

“That was the most irresponsible, foolish thing I have ever seen.” Anger underlay his words. “You promised to stay in the carriage.”

“We thought we saw the professor, and we didn’t want him to get away.”

“It didn’t seem stupid at the time,” Estelle added.

“I expected better. From both of you,” he snapped. “Do you know what might have happened to you?”

“I believe I have some idea.” India folded her hands together in her lap to still their shaking. She pulled in a deep, calming breath. “And I am never irresponsible.”

“Ha!”

“So, am I to assume you did not find my husband?” Estelle ventured.

“I did not,” he said sharply. “The doorman told me he and my brother were there briefly and then left. Apparently to return home.”

“Oh, that is good to hear.” Estelle breathed a sigh of relief.

“Derek.” India braced herself. “In hindsight, as much as it pains me to say this...” She was not used to admitting her mistakes. She was not used to making mistakes. This was far more difficult than she had imagined. “While it did seem necessary at the time, I did not give my actions due consideration. I acted upon impulse—which I might point out I am not prone to do—as well as in a most, well, less than responsible manner. I have no excuse. I don’t understand it myself—”

“It was an adventure, dear,” Estelle said under her breath. “One can never underestimate the lure of adventure. I suspect it causes even the most rational among us to do foolish things they would never think of doing otherwise.”

“Thank you, Estelle. Nonetheless, it was...” India blew a long breath. “Stupid. You were right, Derek.”

Silence hung heavy in the carriage for an endless moment.

“Well.” A desperate note sounded in Estelle’s voice. “That’s that then. I’m sure we can put this behind us now and, well...”

India nodded. “Excellent idea. I know I intend to never mention it again.”

A disgruntled snort sounded from Derek’s side of the carriage.

The moment they arrived at Lord Brookings’s, Estelle bolted from the carriage, muttering her thanks in her wake. His lordship’s expertly trained footman opened the door, and she shot into the house as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. India didn’t blame her. She would have dashed toward the house herself, but she suspected escaping Derek’s ire was not going to be that easy. Not that she didn’t deserve it. He helped her out of the carriage, and they started for the door.

“India.” He stopped.

She turned toward him, his face illuminated by the flickering gaslight. “Yes?”

“I owe you an apology.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she said in a gracious and relieved manner. “You were upset, understandably so. It was a, well, awkward—”

“Awkward?” he said slowly.

“I suppose perilous might be a better word.”

“Do you think so?”

“Oh my, yes.” She nodded. “He was much bigger than you. I don’t know what might have happened had you needed to resort to fisticuffs.”

“I assure you I would have held my own.” He paused. “For the first minute or two.”

“Fortunately, you were cleverer than that, and physical means were not necessary.”

“India—”

“But as I was saying,” she said quickly. It did seem better not to allow him to get a word in. “You had every right to be angry, and no apology is necessary.”

He stared in disbelief. “You think my apology is because I was angry? Justifiably angry? You understand the danger of the situation was not just for myself?”

She shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “Yes, I suppose.”

“I’m apologizing for suggesting I kiss you.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I know how you are about impropriety. Therefore, you have my apology.”

“Then you didn’t want to kiss me?” she said without thinking. Not that she wanted him to kiss her, of course. That would indeed be improper. And she wasn’t sure one’s first kiss should be in a notorious district in a decadent city.

“Oh, make no mistake, India, I would like nothing better than to kiss you. This was not the first time it has occurred to me.” He paused as if debating his words. “However, it seemed an apology was called for on my part as you were willing to apologize to me.”

It was her turn to stare. “I didn’t apologize.”

“You said I was right. You admitted you should have stayed in the carriage.”

“It was an admission, an acknowledgment if you will, of my mistake.” She shrugged. “I didn’t actually apologize for it.”

“Don’t you think you should?” He stepped closer and glared down at her. “If not for ignoring your promise to stay in the carriage, then for, at the very least, scaring the hell out of me?” His voice rose, and there was genuine concern in his tone. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw you in the hands of that animal? I have never been so terrified in my life!”

She stared up at him. “Oh.”

“Oh?” He stepped closer, so close she could see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. “Oh?”

“Oh...” Close enough to pull her into his arms and kiss her, if he was so inclined. Her heart thudded in her chest. “Oh, I...I apologize? I obviously wasn’t thinking, and I am truly sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Was he so inclined? He stared down at her. “You are not infallible, India Prendergast.”

She nodded. “I am aware of that.”

“Good.” His gaze shifted to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Please try to keep it in mind in the future.”

“Yes, of course.” She leaned closer.

A footman peered out the open door.

Derek took a step back. “I shall see you in the morning, then, to resume our Grand Hotel search.”

She nodded. “In the morning.”

He accompanied her into the house and bid her good-night. She started up the stairs. She knew without looking his gaze followed her. What was he thinking? Did he regret not kissing her? And did he still wish to kiss her? India had never been kissed before and had never paid any attention to that omission in her life. Now...

She reached her room, closed the door behind her and sank onto the bed. Odd, the fact that he had wanted to kiss her, had confessed that tonight was not the first time the thought had occurred to him, eclipsed the other events of the night.

She had nearly been kissed. By a rogue, a scoundrel, a man who had no doubt kissed dozens—even hundreds—of women. He was probably quite skilled at it. Still, he hadn’t kissed her and by now had probably changed his mind about kissing her altogether. Which was for the best really.

Why, she had no desire to kiss Derek Saunders. None whatsoever. So it made absolutely no sense that she had the awful, sinking feeling that she had just taken the wrong turn at a crossroads.

And her life would never be the same.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IF DEREK COULD act as if nothing whatsoever had happened between them, then so could India. While she was grateful he had not mentioned the events of last night, it was annoying that he had as well ignored the whole matter of his desire to kiss her. If indeed he still had that desire. Not that she cared. No, it was best to put the entire night behind them and continue on with their quest.

Today they’d made progress, but they were barely halfway through Derek’s list of Grand Hotels. India vowed to herself never to stay in a hotel with the word grand in its name. She’d had quite enough of them already, thank you. Even so, she was not about to give up.

Where was Heloise? Admittedly, she’d been showing the strangest tendencies toward independence in the weeks before she’d joined the Lady Travelers Society. But independence did not preclude common sense and courtesy. Surely, she would have known that India would worry if she allowed her correspondence to lapse. Although, now that she thought about it, India realized, while her cousin had said she would write, she’d made no promises as to frequency. And Heloise did have a tendency to pay little attention to the details of life she deemed unimportant. The chances were very good that nothing distressing had happened to her at all. India did hope so. She loved the older woman, and would not rest until she was assured of her safety.

And then what? an annoying voice whispered in the back of her head. Will you drag her home? Insist she abandon this adventure of hers and return to the rather ordinary life she lives? The life you both live?

India ignored it. She would cross that road when she came to it. First, she had to find Heloise. And hopefully trap a scoundrel in the process. Even if Derek wasn’t quite the devil she had originally thought. In fact, she was reluctantly beginning to like him, which had nothing to do with his alleged desire to kiss her. Regardless, as any good detective would tell you, the first step in an investigation is to know your subject.

India dressed for dinner early and slipped down to his lordship’s library, where Suzette said he was often found before dinner. She knocked on the half-open door, then pushed it wider and stepped into the room. “Good evening, your lordship.”

“You do realize people who don’t wait for an invitation often find themselves in awkward situations,” Lord Brookings said, his gaze firmly on papers spread on the desk in front of him.

“And who would know that better than you?” she said lightly.

“Indeed, I have been caught unawares any number of times.” He stood and circled the desk toward her. “It has proven most awkward.”

She arched a brow. “For you?”

“For everyone else.” He grinned in an entirely too knowing manner.

“The door was open. I believe an open door is an invitation.”

“There is nothing I like better than having my words thrown back at me by a lovely woman. Well then, welcome.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “And to what do I owe the honor of this visit, India? I’ve not seen you alone since I visited you in your bed and you insisted I call you Miss Prendergast.”

“You remember that, do you?”

“It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.” He brushed his lips across her hand, his gaze never wavering from hers.

“I doubt that, but surely then you recall I won our little wager.” She pulled her hand from his.

“Ah yes.” He heaved an overly heartfelt sigh. “Miss Prendergast it is to be then.”

She couldn’t help but grin. The man was incorrigible and annoyingly amusing.

“I see Mrs. Greer’s taste in fashion continues to astound.”

She glanced down at the evening ensemble. Estelle really did bring more clothes than she could possibly ever wear but she was so gracious about loaning them, India was hard-pressed to object to the style. “I understood plaid was quite the current rage.”

“In Scotland perhaps.” He propped a hip on the corner of his desk. “Now then, as you have dared to brave the inner sanctum of the scandalous Lord Brookings, I assume you are not here simply to pass the time until dinner.”

“No.” She wasn’t entirely sure how to phrase this. “I was hoping you would answer a few questions for me.”

“Anything.”

“About Mr. Saunders.”

“Oh.” His brows drew together. “It’s like that, is it?”

“It’s like what?”

“Usually, when a woman wants to talk about another man it’s because she harbors some feelings for him.”

“I can assure you I harbor no feelings for Mr. Saunders other than perhaps friendship,” she said quickly, ignoring the heat that washed up her face. Why his lordship’s charge would make her blush was beyond her. It probably had to do with that kiss nonsense. Still, Derek had indeed offered friendship even if she hadn’t accepted.

“No.” He studied her curiously. “Of course not.”

“It is for no other reason than the pursuit of that friendship that I thought it would be beneficial if I knew more about him.”

“I daresay everything there is to know about my brother is public knowledge.” He chuckled. “Derek has no real secrets, at least not as far as I am aware.”

“Then you will be revealing no confidences.” She perched on a nearby chair and smiled pleasantly. “Is he a good man?” It wasn’t the question she had intended to ask, but it did seem important.

“Yes,” Lord Brookings said without hesitation. “I have known Derek for most of his life. His mother—and the only mother I have ever known—married my father when I was nine and Derek was eight. We grew up together. I consider him my brother in everything but blood. Admittedly, he has engaged in any number of activities that one might consider reckless and even outrageous, but then so have I.” He flashed her an unapologetic grin. “However, I have never seen him hurt anyone nor have I ever seen him be deliberately unkind.”

She nodded. “That’s very...interesting.”

“I should add, last night, when he set forth to rescue Professor Greer, he did so at his own peril.”

“Did he?” She forced a light tone, but unease settled in her stomach.

“Derek’s uncle has told him in no uncertain terms that he will not tolerate any further hint of scandal. So, if the professor’s reputation was at risk, so, too, was my brother’s.”

“I see.” That certainly put a different light on the evening and perhaps explained why Derek hadn’t accompanied his lordship and the professor in the first place.

“I would put my life in his hands without a second thought. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

If his lordship was lying he was quite good at it. No, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he believed what he’d said. The oddest sense of relief washed through her. The more time she spent with Derek, the more he wasn’t at all as she had expected.

Why, the man had actually eased her discomfort about her appearance in Estelle’s borrowed clothing, pointing out that, while this was not how she usually dressed, she did not look as absurd as she had first feared. Indeed, he claimed she looked rather fetching. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but no one stopped and stared in horror at her. He had also drawn her attention several times to other ladies garbed in apparel even more fussy than hers. It was quite kind of him really, and she wondered if he might not be a rather nice sort beneath his dashing good looks and wicked smiles. He had made a list, after all. One had to give him credit for that. He’d also insisted on showing her some of the sights of Paris between Grand Hotel stops. That, too, was surprisingly thoughtful in spite of her lack of interest. Now, knowing the risk he’d taken for the professor, her opinion of him notched upward.

Which made it all the more unpleasant to search for proof as to his wrongdoing.

“I was curious, there are any number of rumors about his financial circumstances, but I distrust gossip. What are the state of Mr. Saunders finances?”

“Now that is the question of a woman who is looking for a husband and wants assurances about the gentleman she has set her cap for.”

“I assure you,” she said firmly, “I am not looking for a husband—”

“Not in that dress.”

“And even if I was, Mr. Saunders would not be of interest to me.” It did seem important to let his stepbrother know she had no intentions toward Derek. Set her cap indeed.

“I must say I find that difficult to believe. Most women think Derek irresistible.”

“I imagine there have been a great number of women,” she said in an offhand manner.

“A great number?” He chuckled. “I’m not sure what a great number is. Dozens? Hundreds?”

“Many,” she said sharply.

“My, my, Miss Prendergast.” His brow rose. “That sounds a bit like jealousy.”

“Don’t be absurd.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “I just told you I have no intentions toward Derek other than friendship.”

“Of course not. But other women consider Derek a brilliant catch. His prospects are excellent, he is the heir to an impressive title and even I can admit he is not unattractive. Not quite as handsome and dashing as his brother—”

She snorted.

“But acceptable.” He considered her thoughtfully. “Why aren’t you looking for a husband?”

“Oh for goodness’ sake.” Why was everyone so disturbed by her lack of interest in marriage? It was right on the tip of her tongue to tell him it was none of his concern, but why not answer the man? She had nothing to hide, and she did want answers from him, after all. “For one thing, my lord—”

“Val. Or Percy.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. And, yes, I know I agreed to call you Miss Prendergast, but it makes me feel like an antiquity to have someone no more than a few years younger than I refer to me by my title. Especially when discussing matters as personal as my stepbrother’s life and your opposition to marriage.”

“I never said I was opposed to marriage, Percy.”

“Val would have been better,” he said under his breath.

“I simply came to the realization years ago that some of us are not intended for marriage.”

“I’ve heard that from a man but never from a woman.”

“Well, now you have.”

He stared at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads. “Why?”

“I was starting to explain but you interrupted me, Percy.”

He winced.

“I shall be thirty on my next birthday, a confirmed spinster by anyone’s definition. I have neither the wealth nor the heritage nor the appearance that most men look for in a wife. Those looking to improve their position in life will not achieve that by marriage with me. Is that satisfactory?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not in the least. For one thing, any man who marries a woman for those attributes only deserves what he gets.”

“Forgive me for pointing this out, but that’s rather easy for you to say. You don’t need to marry for money or position. Most people are not that fortunate.”

“You’re absolutely right. I firmly intend to marry for nothing less than undying love.”

“Good God, you’re a romantic!” And far less jaded than she had assumed.

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

“I scarcely know what to say.”

“My brother considers himself a romantic, as well.” He nodded. “You should know that, India.”

“Miss Prendergast, and it makes no difference to me as I am not interested in him as anything other than a friend. A good friend, perhaps, but a friend nonetheless. And if I were—” She knew she should hold her tongue but couldn’t seem to help herself. It had occurred to her late in the night, no doubt brought about by the kissing, or lack of kissing, incident, and she couldn’t get the thought out of her head. “Derek and I are from entirely different worlds and would never suit. He is to be an earl, and I work for my living. Only in silly stories would such a match be possible.”

“I like silly stories. I always have.”

“How wonderful for you, but this is not a story.” This was becoming more and more annoying. She was not here to talk about her life nor did she wish to discuss why a match with Derek was impossible. Even if she was interested in such a thing which she certainly wasn’t. “Furthermore, my dowry is respectable but not what someone like Derek would expect.”

“Derek is in no need of a generous dowry. He’ll inherit a substantial fortune along with his title.”

“His wife will be a countess. A countess needs to at least be the daughter of someone titled.”

“What a snob you are, India.”

“Miss Prendergast, and I am most certainly not a snob. I simply know how the world works in matters like this.”

“A snob.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “A dreadful, nose-in-the-air snob.”

“This entire conversation is absurd,” she snapped. “I have no desire to marry Derek, and he has no particular interest in me.”

His lordship cast her a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” She waved off the ridiculous question. He hadn’t kissed her, after all, and he’d had every opportunity to do so. A man who said he wanted to kiss you and then made no effort to do so had obviously changed his mind. Or had come to his senses. “For one thing, as I said, we are not suited for each other, and if you were to ask him, I’m certain he would agree. For another, men like him—and you for that matter—”

“Men like me?” He grinned. “Do go on, India.”

“Miss Prendergast!” This was perhaps the silliest conversation she’d ever been engaged in, but that was no reason to lose her temper. Again. The control of her emotions she’d always prided herself on had eroded since the moment she’d left London. Or perhaps the moment she’d met Derek. She drew a calming breath. “As I was saying, men like you and Mr. Saunders—men of prominence because of wealth or family or expectations—usually give some sort of indication as to their interest. Mr. Saunders has done absolutely nothing to so much as imply he has any regard for me that goes beyond the bounds of friendship.”

“And you’ve had a great deal of experience with men like him?” he asked in a mild manner.

“Not a great deal, no.” And by great deal she meant none. But everyone knew men like Derek did not marry women like her. No matter how much of a romantic they considered themselves. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re right, and I do apologize.” Although he didn’t sound the least bit remorseful. “It was nothing more than an exercise in possibilities. And whether you wish to believe it or not, there are few things I like better than a rousing debate with a lovely, intelligent woman. I know I enjoyed it.”

“Well, I did not,” she said sharply. “And I do wish you would stop trying to charm your way past my—”

“Reluctance to so much as hint that you might find life even a tiny bit amusing?”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” She paused. “But perhaps. And you needn’t keep calling me lovely. I am well aware of how very ordinary I am.”

“My dear Miss Prendergast.” Genuine surprise shone in his eyes. “The first time I met you, you were sitting upright in a bed, your face flushed, your hair tousled. Those captivating green eyes sparkled with indignation. You were wearing something delightfully naughty—and vaguely familiar—with the covers clutched up to your neck and a plate of croissants in your lap. You were very nearly irresistible.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Are you mad?”

“I daresay, I have rarely been more sane.”

“Well...” She had no idea how to respond. She’d never thought of herself as anything other than distinctly average. “Thank you?”

“Of course, after that morning you insisted on wearing that dreadful gray thing day after day.” He shivered. “You may not realize it, but while Mrs. Greer’s clothes tend to be a bit brighter and somewhat fussier than is my personal preference in lady’s garments, they do show off your estimable assets.”

She stared. “I have assets?”

He frowned in disbelief. “Has no one ever said this to you before?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Perhaps when one is appreciated for her efficiency and intelligence, no one is concerned about the rest of her.” He shrugged. “Pity.”

“Assets,” she murmured. She rather liked that.

“And you’re doing something—” he gestured at her head “—different with your hair. It’s not as...clenched.”

She patted her hair and resisted the urge to tuck away the tendrils of curls now drifting around her face. “Suzette has been doing my hair.”

“I should have known.” He studied her with a critical eye. “It’s quite flattering. You should continue to wear it that way.”

“Perhaps,” she said weakly. Lord Brookings was an outrageous flirt, but he did seem sincere. She’d stopped being concerned about her appearance years ago. In hindsight, perhaps that was a mistake.

The bong of the dinner bell reverberated through the house. “And there’s the call for dinner.” He offered his arm.

She hadn’t realized it was so late. She sighed and took his arm. “You haven’t fully answered my questions.”

“I know. Wicked of me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was. My only concern is to lend Mr. Saunders my assistance.” Derek Saunders might well be a scoundrel, but he might be worth redeeming.

“In what?”

“In becoming the man I believe he wants to be.” And hadn’t Derek said so himself? Hadn’t he said his desire in life was not to disappoint?

“In becoming his father.”

“His father?” India released his arm and took a step back. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“I never met the man, of course, but from what I’ve heard, Derek’s father was one of those people who was respected by everyone.”

“I can’t imagine anyone not liking Derek,” she said firmly. “He’s quite charming and...personable.”

“Henry, Derek’s father, was brilliant and competent and responsible. He and his brother, the earl, were twins, although not identical, and apparently quite fond of each other. Not always the case between the heir and the spare, you know. It’s my understanding Henry worked closely with his brother in all matters pertaining to the family’s interests. Furthermore, there was never a hint of anything disreputable associated with Henry Saunders. Unless, of course—and this is hearsay mind you—one considers the uproar over his marriage to Mother.”

“His family didn’t approve?”

“As I said, this is just something I’ve picked up through the years. Nothing more than gossip really.”

“Go on.”

“Why, Miss Prendergast,” he chastised. “I had no idea you were so fond of gossip.”

“Something that happened thirty some years ago is no longer gossip but more in the realm of history,” she said in a lofty manner.

“Interesting way you have of bending the rules.” He chuckled. “I shall have to remember that.”

“Now, if you would be so kind as to finish the story.”

“Apparently, Mother’s family was not as prosperous as it had once been. Her father was a viscount who’d had some disastrous setbacks due to—oh, let’s call it bad investments, shall we?”

“Investments?”

“Of a speculative nature. Gambling, Miss Prendergast.”

“Oh.” She stared. “I see.”

“Still, the family name was respectable enough.” He paused. “Until of course, Henry and Mother ran off together.”

Surprise widened her eyes. “Oh?”

“Which certainly wouldn’t have caused the kind of gossip that lingers through the years except, of course, for the tiny problem that Henry was supposed to marry her older sister.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “The way I heard the story, someone left someone at the altar.”

“Who?” She knew she shouldn’t be quite this eager to hear the sordid details, but it was a very long time ago. Which did indeed make it less like gossip and more like history.

“I have no idea.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, the details are murky at that point.”

“That is unfortunate,” she murmured.

“Miss Prendergast! You astound me. I never imagined you to be interested in such rubbish.” Laughter sparked in his eyes. “Tsk, tsk.”

“I’m not interested in gossip,” she said. “I am simply interested in helping Mr. Saunders.”

“Of course you are.”

“As his friend.”

“Perhaps you are, at that.” His lordship studied her for a long moment. “You asked about his finances.” He offered his arm again, and she placed her hand on the inside of his elbow. “Derek has always received a substantial allowance from his uncle. And has always gone through it with rapt abandon so he is continually on the verge of having nothing at all.” Once again they started toward the door. “In recent months, however, he’s seemed quite solvent. Frugal living, no doubt.”

“No doubt.” Her heart sank. Derek’s solvency coincided with the success of the Lady Travelers Society. Which did seem proof of his misdeeds. Still, even a good man could be led astray. The strangest idea was nibbling at the back of her mind.

“I hold Derek in great affection, Miss Prendergast. You should know that.” There was the vaguest hint of a threat in his words.

“That is good to know.”

“You should also know—” he grinned “—I am far wiser than I would appear.”

“One can only hope, Percy, one can only hope.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It is not uncommon for a lady traveler, especially one who is inexperienced, to find herself feeling like a different person altogether when in completely new surroundings. One must decide for oneself whether to embrace that or disregard it.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

INDIA WASN’T FEELING at all her usual self but lighter somehow, not quite as somber. As if a weight had lifted. Ridiculous notion, of course. She hadn’t changed, not in any significant way. Nonetheless, two days ago she’d borrowed another woman’s overly fussy clothing and resolved to be a better person. On the very same day she’d ignored caution to accost a stranger in the streets with the best of intentions and had been told by a dashing scoundrel that he’d had thoughts of kissing her. Yesterday, a handsome rogue had claimed she had assets. And today, while the reflection looking back from her mirror did not seem especially changed, she was decidedly different. Oddly enough, she didn’t seem to mind.

The blame could be placed on Paris itself. The city’s legendary charms might well be too much even for a sensible woman like India to resist. Or perhaps Derek was to blame, although she couldn’t imagine ever fully trusting the man. Still, like the city, his charm was difficult to ignore completely. Nor could she fault his deportment. He was at all times a gentleman aside from a momentary lapse when he had asked for a kiss. She had nearly put that nonsense out of her head altogether. Furthermore, he had not brought up their misadventure in Montmartre, and she was eternally grateful.

It was also hard to ignore how unfailingly pleasant the man was to very nearly everyone. He gave Professor Greer the deference due his position, and it was obvious the professor held him in great affection in return. He flirted outrageously—but not at all seriously—with Estelle, who obviously adored his attentions. And he treated the servants politely and respectfully, as if they were social equals. The ways in which Derek’s character was admirable were adding up.

Even so, the man was not to be trusted. There was the matter of his improved finances, after all. And he was definitely hiding something. There was a telegram he’d received that he’d failed to mention. Logically, she realized it might have nothing to do with Heloise, but it was the same day she’d overheard Derek and the professor agree to keep some sort of secret. One would have to be blind not to put two and two together. Still, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep in mind that Derek was the mastermind behind the Lady Travelers Society and, as such, was taking advantage of the desires of older women for the adventure to be found in travel. But God help her, she liked him. And liking him was accompanied by a few startling revelations.

She’d never in her life been so aware of anyone before. It was as if she sensed his presence in a room before she turned around. Felt his gaze on her before her eyes met his. Noted his scent—there was a faint hint of spice about him—the timbre of his laugh, the tiny mannerisms that were his alone. It was unnerving and annoying and extremely confusing. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to get the realization that the man had become important to her out of her head. Absurd of course, and best to ignore the very idea altogether. Besides, there were far greater issues to concern herself with. First and foremost was finding Heloise.

Today she intended to send her last telegram to Martin. Telegrams were charged by the word—although why it cost more to send a telegram from Paris to England than to Italy made no sense to her—and there was a ten-word minimum. If ten words was the cheapest she could send, ten words it would be.

“You’ve seemed unusually preoccupied all morning,” Derek said beside her in the cab. They were headed toward the nearest telegraph office and had just left the Grand Hotel Louvois—although it scarcely mattered which Grand Hotel they had come from or which was next on Derek’s list. They were all starting to swim together in her head in one enormous tableaux of marble and gilt and crystal. The French did seem to have a penchant for extravagant decor, even if not every Grand Hotel was as grand as its name.

“I am trying to compose my telegram.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t think it would be that difficult. ‘Haven’t found Lady Heloise. Still looking. Sincerely, Miss Prendergast.’”

“Thank you,” she said coolly, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a smile. “It is more complicated than that.”

“I might be of help if you tell me what you wish to say.”

She was not about to admit she was trying to think of some plausible reason why she would not be sending further telegrams so that she might save the money for other expenses. “It’s a most gracious offer, but I think I can come up with an appropriate message.”

The cab pulled to a stop. Derek exited, then extended a hand to help her out.

“I still think ‘Haven’t found Lady Heloise. Still looking. Sincerely, Miss Prendergast’ is appropriate.”

“I shall consider it then,” she said primly.

He grinned. “You’re just saying that to make me feel appreciated.”

“Of course I am.” She adjusted her parasol over her shoulder and gazed up into his blue eyes. “And how very perceptive of you to notice that.”

“I can be very perceptive and it is good to know.” His gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips and back. “That I am appreciated, that is.”

“I daresay any number of women appreciate you,” she said in as flippant as manner as she could manage given he was still holding her hand.

“Any number of women are not you.”

“I would think that would work in your favor.”

“I would have thought so, as well.” The oddest look flashed through his eyes, as though he was trying to find the answer to a question but wasn’t entirely certain of the question itself. “Now I’m not quite as sure.”

For a moment, neither of them could do more than stare. As if something inexplicable had trapped them in an embrace of awareness. Surely, he didn’t intend to kiss her now? Here? Without warning, she recalled her words to Lord Brookings. Regardless of any unexpected feelings she might have for Derek, there could never be anything between them. He was a man of the world, destined to be an earl. She was a practical woman who worked for her living.

India pulled her hand away just as he released it. The moment of intensity between them shifted, abruptly awkward and uncomfortable.

“Well, I should...” She gestured toward the telegraph office.

“Yes, I suppose, you should.” A frown creased his forehead. “Would you like me to accompany you, or shall I wait for you here?”

“I will only be a moment.” She nodded and hurried into the building.

What on earth was wrong with her? She had abandoned the idea of romance years ago, foolish concept that it was. In spite of his admission that he wished to kiss her, romance had never even crossed her mind until this very minute. Until Derek’s gaze had locked with hers and what was surely no more than an instant had seemed forever. She’d long ago given up any desire or belief in romance—in true love and that sort of nonsense. But had she done so because it struck her as irrational and absurd, or because it was something she would never know? Odd how the experiences of one’s youth could affect the rest of one’s life. It made no sense whatsoever but there it was.

No, it was fortunate he hadn’t kissed her as there could never be anything of a romantic nature between them. And a kiss would surely lead to something more. That was the nature of things. His was a world of wealth and society and power. And hers was one of organization and precision in the assistance of a man dedicated to intellectual pursuits. The differences between their worlds were insurmountable despite what romantic novels or fairy tales might claim. Besides, she had a fairly clear idea of the type of woman that would suit Derek. Someone accomplished and sophisticated, of impeccable heritage and, of course, beautiful. The next Earl of Danby would settle for no less.

Romance was out of the question, but she could indeed be his friend. And that would have to suffice. With every passing day, she was more and more convinced that he was a decent man at heart. One couldn’t spend nearly all one’s time in the company of a man without discerning his true character. He had simply been led astray, out of desperation no doubt. A man destined to be an earl had a great deal of expectations placed on him. It was entirely possible that all Derek needed to mend his larcenous ways was the influence of a good woman. A good woman who was also a good friend. And hadn’t he already offered the hand of friendship? Time to accept that offer—if only for his own benefit.

The idea that had simmered in the back of her thoughts now blossomed into resolve. Determination washed through her and with it a sort of missionary zeal. This might have been the kind of thing her parents felt although she’d been fairly certain, even as a girl, they were much more interested in the adventure of exotic places and the excitement of foreign shores than the saving of souls. Regardless, for the first time since India’s arrival in Paris, at least one matter was firmly in her hands. She was not used to feeling as if events were swirling out of her control, as if she were adrift and at the mercy of others. It was most disquieting.

She was accustomed to managing very nearly everything. Hadn’t she run Heloise’s household ever since she’d finished at Miss Bicklesham’s? And didn’t she supervise Martin’s household as well as everything else he needed? Really, when one looked at it, she managed more than their households, she managed their lives and did so with efficiency and economy. Both would be lost without her.

And there was no time like the present to begin Derek’s true reformation. But first she had to send her telegram to assure Martin of her well-being. It was simple enough:

Search progressing. All is well. No further telegrams necessary. Prendergast.

India was nothing if not efficient. And the most efficient way to help a friend chart a new, legitimate course for his life was with honesty. Poor man was probably not entirely used to honesty. Charm and honesty rarely went hand in hand.

India dispatched the telegram, then joined Derek outside. “Did you dismiss the cab? I thought you wished to find a café.”

“I do, but as it is such a lovely day, I thought we could walk rather than ride.” He inhaled and released an exaggerated breath. “Stimulate the appetite, invigorate the mind, that sort of thing.”

“I have yet to notice your appetite needing any stimulation whatsoever. Indeed, if you did not demand a daily break for sustenance, we could visit at least one more Grand Hotel every day. One would think you’d never had a decent meal the way you insist on interrupting our efforts for food.”

He laughed. “Even you must admit you haven’t eaten a meal yet that wasn’t extremely tasty.”

“I’ll grant you that.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this another one of your attempts to show me Paris?”

“You are the most suspicious woman I have ever met.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “You’ve made it quite clear that you have no desire to see what Paris has to offer which I consider a very great pity. I am simply suggesting a bit of exercise and there’s no better place for that than right here.”

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

“Good Lord, India.” He waved at the street in a grand gesture. “We are on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, one of the most fashionable promenades in Paris. It is not nearly as busy at this hour as it will be later in the day, so it’s perfect for a leisurely stroll. We can walk toward the magnificent Arc de Triomphe—”

“Which you have insisted on expounding upon every time we’ve driven by,” she pointed out.

“Then we shall head toward the Place de la Concorde instead, which many people feel is the true center of Paris. If I recall correctly, there are any number of charming cafés in the vicinity.” He offered his arm.

“Very well then.” She sighed and took his arm. “I see nothing wrong with a nice, brisk walk.”

“You do enjoy having things your own way.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

He chuckled, and they started off. A row of perfectly spaced trees and a strip of lawn separated the sidewalk from the street. Whatever else one might think about Paris, it was nicely laid out.

“Did you manage the appropriate wording for your telegram?” Derek asked offhandedly. “Something to keep the inestimable Sir Martin informed?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever called him inestimable.”

“I stand corrected. I was extrapolating. As you have called him brilliant, respectable and honorable.” He shrugged. “Inestimable seemed appropriate.”

“You might as well call him Sir Martin the Great.” It was really quite pleasant strolling beneath the shade of the trees. No wonder those they passed by—fashionably dressed elegant ladies, nannies with charges by the hand or in prams, well-appointed gentlemen—seemed in no particular hurry.

“Don’t you?”

“Of course not.” She scoffed. “He’s simply my employer and, to a certain extent, my friend.”

“He’s more than your friend.” He glanced at her. “Any man who wants a woman to telegraph him every few days thinks of her as far more than a friend.”

She started and nearly tripped.

“You can’t deny it, can you?” he said in an annoyingly smug manner.

“I have no need to deny it.” She sniffed in disdain. “It simply isn’t true and therefore doesn’t warrant a denial.”

“Methinks thou dost protest too much.”

“You needn’t quote Shakespeare—and inaccurately I might add—to make your point. And I am scarcely protesting at all, simply pointing out the facts.” And Martin was the last thing she wished to discuss. “The building we’re passing.” She nodded at the huge, glass and iron structure. “It strongly resembles the Crystal Palace in London.”

“It’s the Palais de l’Industrie and was indeed constructed to rival the Crystal Palace. And you have changed the subject.”

“Very well then. I understand you had a telegram the other day.”

A decidedly satisfied smile lifted the corners of his lips. “And changing it yet again.”

“In point of fact, I am returning to the original subject of my telegram to Sir Martin. Which reminded me that you had recently received a telegram, at least according to my maid.” She adopted a casual tone. “Was it important?”

“Not really,” Derek said. “It was from my uncle.”

“I thought perhaps it was from Lady Blodgett. I hoped she might have had some news about my cousin.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Or perhaps she wished to keep you informed about the activities of the Lady Travelers Society.” She kept her voice light and her gaze on the tall Egyptian obelisk at the end of the avenue. “It does seem to be quite a profitable enterprise.”

“I’m not sure profitable is the right word.”

“Miss Honeywell told me the membership continues to grow.”

“Membership is closed at the moment,” he said firmly.

“Still, in dues alone I would suspect it brings in a significant amount of money.”

“There does seem to be a lot of interest.” He paused. “I wouldn’t have imagined quite so many women would wish to join an organization dedicated to travel. As there are, it turned out to be a rather brilliant idea.”

She nodded. “And a lucrative one.”

He stopped in midstep. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“If one gives any credence to rumor, your finances are not particularly sound. In addition, you have made a few comments about the state of your pockets.”

“My pockets are just fine, thank you.” His jaw tensed, and they resumed walking.

“It just seems to me if you are unable to afford this search for my cousin, someone must be paying the bills. I simply assumed that was the Lady Travelers Society.”

“I wouldn’t assume anything, India. I assure you I am indeed paying my own way.”

“Thanks to the dues from unsuspecting females,” she murmured.

Again he stopped to stare at her. “What are you—”

“What did you and the professor wish to keep from me yesterday?” she said abruptly.

“Nothing of any interest.” His brows drew together in annoyance. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” She sighed. “Which makes this all the more difficult. I very much fear I am beginning to like you. I think, underneath it all, you might well be a good man.”

“Underneath what?”

She waved off his question. “In spite of the fact that I do indeed distrust you, I find I am starting to enjoy your company.”

He snorted in disbelief.

“Come now, Derek—you can’t be all that surprised. Why, men like you depend on their charm. And even someone as sensible and rational as myself is bound to succumb to it at some point. You are like an endless stream of water, and I am a rock starting to wear away.” They paused at an intersection to wait for a break in the relentless stream of traffic. If this is what the Champs-élysées was like when it wasn’t busy, she couldn’t imagine the scene when it was. “Furthermore, I am now willing to accept the hand of friendship you offered at the beginning of our travels.”

“You just said you still don’t trust me.”

“I daresay, any number of people have friends they don’t entirely trust.

“True enough but—”

“Who other people choose as friends is not my concern. As your friend, my only concern is you. And I’m certain, with a little effort—” she favored him with a brilliant smile “—you can earn my trust.”

“I’m so glad one of us is confident,” he said and steered her quickly across the street.

“Which is of little importance really.” She shrugged. “The only truly important matter is finding my cousin. As for everything else...” She heaved a heartfelt sigh. “If you would just be honest with me about your involvement with the Lady Travelers Society.”

He pulled up short. “My what?”

The street ended in a huge, open rectangular plaza. The obelisk was centered between two enormous iron fountains colored black and green. Water droplets sparkled in the sunlight and danced over gilded accents. Precisely aligned lampposts outlined the border between the pavement and the street and statues marked the corners. The park Derek had insisted they walk through a few days ago lay beyond the square. “Is this it then? The Place de la Concorde? The true center of Paris?”

“Yes, yes.” Impatience rang in his voice. “What—”

“Isn’t this where the guillotine—”

“Yes,” he snapped. “And as gratified as I am to know that you’ve listened to something I’ve said, this is not the time. What involvement? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be absurd—of course you do.” She glanced from side to side. “You can certainly see everything from here, can’t you? A bridge over the Seine on the right and the arch behind us. Why you can even see that dreadful tower.”

“India.” A warning sounded in his voice.

“My, my Derek, which of us doesn’t wish to see Paris now?” she said pleasantly. It was rather nice annoying him for a change. Still, perhaps it was time. “I’m talking about the fact that the Lady Travelers Society is a fraud. You’re taking funds for the arrangement of travel without the slightest ability to do so. It’s a sham designed to do nothing more than put money in the pockets of the man behind it.” She met his gaze directly. “The man hiding behind three sweet elderly ladies.”

“The man...” His eyes widened with realization. His voice rose. “You mean me?”

“Yes, I mean you. Who else could I possibly mean? I assume you are in this scheme alone.” She frowned. “Unless there is someone else involved?”

“No.” He shook his head, a stunned look on his face. She’d seen the very same expression on the face of one of her young charges during her brief, ill-fated period as a governess when the devil child had been caught adding pepper to his sister’s porridge. “There’s no one else.”

“Excellent.” She nodded. “Otherwise this would be most awkward.”

“Awkward?”

“In detective novels I have read when one miscreant decides to mend his wicked ways, a partner is not always willing to do so. It can then be quite unpleasant.”

“In detective novels.” He paused. “Which are works of fiction.”

“True, but they claim to be based on realistic events. I see no reason not to believe that.”

“No reason whatsoever except they are fiction,” he said. “What makes you think I am willing to mend my wicked ways?”

She wasn’t sure what to say now that he’d admitted his fraudulent activities. How did one convince a man to abandon a moneymaking scheme? None of the detective novels she had read dealt with that particular question. Scoundrels rarely repented unless they were caught and even then were never truly sincere. “Aren’t you?”

He took her elbow and steered her to a nearby bench. “Now then, why do you think I am willing to change? You noted that the Lady Travelers Society is extremely profitable.”

She settled on the bench and positioned her parasol to block the sun. “And you said you were reforming.”

“I was not referring to this.”

“Goodness, Derek, one can’t reform partially. One can’t pick and choose which part of one’s life in which to do better.”

“On the contrary, India.” He smiled. “One can do exactly that.”

She widened her eyes. “This is not some foolish lark you’re engaged in. This is wrong, morally, legally wrong. And think of the scandal, Derek. For the future Earl of Danby to be arrested for fraudulent activities, why, that’s a far cry from a silly, drunken prank.” She leaned forward and met his gaze firmly. “As your friend, it’s my duty to point that out as well as assist you in mending your wicked ways.”

“And if I wish to continue my wicked ways? At least the profitable ones?”

“Then I shall employ every resource possible to see you receive what you deserve.”

“So much for friendship.”

“Sarcasm, Derek, is ill advised at the moment.” She glared at him. “I don’t think you’re treating this with the gravity it merits. I would hate to see you end up in prison or...or worse.”

He raised a brow. “Worse than prison?”

“Infinitely worse.” As the daughter of missionaries, India considered herself a good Christian. Admittedly, she had never been concerned with the trappings of religion, firmly believing Sunday services should be reserved for those whose souls were in need of redemption. Hers was not, although Derek’s obviously was. “Eternal damnation.” She raised her chin. “Hell if you will.”

He chuckled. “I suspect I will know a great many people there.”

“No doubt,” she said sharply. “But hell is surely where you are headed.”

“You would hate to see that, would you?”

She heaved a resigned sigh. “Apparently.”

“As would I.” He stared at her for a long moment. “I shall make you a deal, India. I have already put a stop to additional memberships, but there’s nothing more I can do until we return to London. Until then, I will give you every opportunity to convince me to abandon the immoral, illegal and yet highly profitable path you believe I am on that will surely lead to incarceration and the fires of hell. Reform me, India—save me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and trapped her gaze with his. “If you can.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“OH, I HAVE no doubt of it.” India nodded and idly twirled her parasol. “And I am certain you will come to believe, eventually, that this is the best course.”

“We shall see,” Derek said with a confident smile.

He’d been accused of many things before but never of fleecing women out of their savings. Still, as long as India thought he was behind the Lady Travelers Society she would not turn her attention toward his great-aunt and the other ladies. This was nothing more than a guess on her part. She had no real proof of his guilt, and no real proof of the fraudulent nature of the Lady Travelers Society. Even the misplacing of Lady Heloise could be attributed to incompetence rather than outright fraud. He stifled a grin at the thought of how indignant Aunt Guinevere and her cohorts would be if they knew India thought they were nothing more than innocent pawns in his game of deceit.

“Dare I ask what happens if you fail?” he asked.

“I have no intention of failing. Your freedom and your immortal soul are at stake.”

“Still, if you do...” He sat on the bench beside her and heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m the one to suffer the consequences. You face no penalty at all but are free to go on your merry way.”

“But I shall feel badly about it.” She thought for a moment. “Quite badly. I imagine seeing you go to prison or knowing you will burn forever in the fires of hell—” he winced “—will also provoke a great deal of guilt.” She grimaced. “As I have taken the responsibility for your salvation upon myself.”

“Scant comfort, knowing you feel badly or guilty.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“It seems perfectly fair to me as I am not the one whose wicked ways need mending. The world is not fair, Derek. Surely you know that.”

“Even so, it does seem to me that you should face some sort of penalty for failure.”

“I have already said I will feel quite badly should I fail.” She pressed her lips together. “I am not fond of failure nor do I intend to experience it in this particular instance.”

“My immortal soul thanks you.”

“Derek, I don’t think—”

“I think it is past time to find a café.” He stood and offered his hand to help her up. “If we are to discuss my dire fate should your efforts at reformation fail—”

“Which they won’t,” she said firmly, rising to her feet.

“Then I would prefer to do so with a plate of excellent food before me and a glass of wine in my hand.” He escorted her to the street.

“Very well.” She paused. “I am possibly a bit hungry myself.”

“Obviously the price one pays for taking on a project of this magnitude.” He hailed a cab, assisted her up and directed the driver to a café Val had recommended.

“I’m not sure it’s quite that bad...”

By the time they reached their destination on the other side of the Pont Neuf bridge over the barge-laden Seine, ordered their meal and had glasses of wine in front of them, Derek had—if not an actual plan—then certainly an excellent idea.

“I have been giving your resolve to reform me a fair amount of consideration.”

“I assumed as much as you have been extraordinarily quiet.”

“There is a great deal to consider.” He searched for the right words. “As we are agreed that, should you fail, the only one who truly suffers is me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and he held out his hand to stop her.

“Yes, yes, I know you will feel badly—”

“Very badly.”

“Very badly then, which will be of no comfort to me if I am in prison or broiling in eternal flames.”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure that can be helped.”

“Therefore, while I have already agreed to allow you to try to convince me of the need to change my path to incarceration or damnation—in this life or the next—I should have some say in how you intend to proceed.”

Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“Well, do you have a plan in mind as to how to rescue me?”

“Not a plan exactly—it has only just today occurred to me that you can be saved.” She thought for a moment. “However, for one thing, merely being in the company of a woman who is not the type of woman you are usually with should have something of an influence on you.”

“You intend to be a good influence?”

“I already am a good influence.”

“You were very nearly the cause of my being beaten senseless in the streets of Montmartre.”

“Yes, but that was in pursuit of a good deed,” she said in a lofty manner. Apparently, the more dangerous aspects of that evening had faded in favor of the ultimate goal.

“I see. And please, do tell me what kind of woman I am usually with.”

“You know full well what kind of woman.” She sniffed.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” He smiled pleasantly and sipped his wine. “Enlighten me, if you will.”

“Very well.” She paused. “A man of your position is expected to find a wife of a similar level of society. The female equivalent of yourself, if you will.”

“Good Lord, I hope not,” he said mildly.

She ignored him. “These are the types of women I went to school with. They are concerned only with the social season, their next gown and the next ball. They delight in gossip, regardless of whether it’s true or not—and have no concern for anyone they do not consider worthy, up to their social standards, if you will. They are not stupid by any means but do not engage in pursuits of an intellectual nature for fear allowing anyone to know they are intelligent will somehow detract from their worth. They occupy their time with frivolous activities, change their ensembles numerous times a day, treat servants as if they were less than human and—should they engage in charitable activities—do so only for the sake of appearance.” She took a sip of wine. “Appearance, you know, is everything.”

He stared. “And this is the kind of woman you think I should marry?”

“I didn’t say that, Derek. I said this is the kind of woman you are expected to marry.”

“Perhaps before you save my soul you should save me from that.” It did sound like a fate worse than eternal damnation.

“I’m afraid your destiny is sealed. You are to be an earl, and that is the kind of woman suitable to be a countess.”

“Shallow, insipid, self-centered, devious and cruel?”

“Take heart, Derek.” Her eyes twinkled in a way that could only be called wicked. “They spend a great deal of time and money on their appearance, and they are hardly ever truly ugly.”

“Yes, that is something to cling to,” he muttered. India must have hated her years at Miss Bicklesham’s if this was the kind of girl she’d met there. Although, while overly harsh, her assessment was not entirely inaccurate. “However, that particular aspect of my future is not the current point of discussion. We were talking about what you stand to lose if you fail.”

“I won’t.”

He ignored her. “By the time we conclude our efforts today, we will only have seven Grand Hotels remaining. I anticipate another day and a half or so to visit the rest unless, of course, we find Lady Heloise. Barring that, we shall then have to consider our next step.”

She nodded.

“However, while I have agreed to allow you to convince me to abandon a, as you continue to point out, very profitable enterprise—”

“A swindle.”

“And we have both acknowledged my penalty should you fail will be much greater than your own—”

“I expect the guilt to be substantial.”

“Then I have a few conditions, terms, if you will.”

Suspicion flashed in her eyes. “What kind of conditions?”

“I think, at the very least, you should allow me to show you the sights of Paris.”

“I believe you have been showing me the sights of Paris.”

“Pointing out places of interest from a cab, a few minutes in a park and a stroll down an avenue is scarcely showing you the sights.”

“But we are here to search for Heloise, nothing more. When we finish with the hotels—”

“There are other places we should inquire at. Places Lady Heloise would have visited.”

“I was given to understand the professor and his wife had taken that upon themselves.”

“They have but there are a great many places to see in Paris. Why, the Louvre alone will take days. While I have every confidence in Frederick and Estelle, it does seem to me she is far more interested in seeing Paris and shopping than finding Lady Heloise and he is attempting to rediscover the Paris of his youth.”

She sighed. “You do have a point I suppose—”

“Allowing me to show you Paris will give us the opportunity to add our inquiries to the Greers, lessening the chances that they missed something important and increasing the possibilities of finding Lady Heloise.”

“Perhaps.”

“In no more than two days, we will have completed querying the twenty-seven Grand Hotels listed in the guidebook.”

“Then what? Should we leave Paris for the next city on Heloise’s itinerary? I believe that’s Lyon.”

“Oh, I think leaving Paris is ill advised.”

He might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn a look of relief passed over her face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Do you?”

“I do.” He nodded. “First of all, Lady Heloise’s last letters were from Paris.”

“Yes, but—”

“Secondly, your best chance of recovering your lost trunk is to stay in Paris. When it’s found, this is where it will be brought.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she murmured. “Still, if we have exhausted our efforts here—”

“Oh, but we haven’t.” He pulled out his notebook. “It struck me that your cousin’s use of the word grand might have nothing to do with the name of the hotel. Therefore, it seemed expedient to compile a list of the hotels in Paris that cater primarily to English visitors.”

She stared at him. “Why didn’t you think of that sooner?”

“The point is that I have thought of it now.” He passed the notebook to her.

She scanned the list. “Perhaps it would be wise to abandon the Grand Hotels altogether in favor of these.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said quickly although she couldn’t possibly be as weary of the endless list of Grand Hotels as he was. “We need to stay the course we’ve begun. It would be inefficient to do otherwise.” He shook his head. “She could very well be at the next hotel we call on. Or there could be some record of her. Haphazard is not the way to conduct a search, India.”

“I wasn’t suggesting—”

“However, when we have at last made our way through the Grand Hotels, I wish to take a respite from our search. I have no intention of leaving Paris without seeing the exposition.” He took a sip of wine. “It’s my understanding that it is a spectacle of progress and mankind’s accomplishments as well as a taste of cultures far different from our own. We can visit the markets of Cairo and a Japanese village. And the entire city is talking about the American Wild West show. I would hate to miss that. The world has come to Paris and—through no fault of our own—so have we. I like to think of it as fate.”

“I sincerely doubt—”

“This is the sort of thing that only comes along once in a lifetime.”

“And this is a sight of Paris you wish to show me?”

“It’s the newest sight of Paris and where I wish to begin. Besides, I would be derelict in my duties as your friend if I allowed you to miss it.” He studied her for a moment. She didn’t look especially interested, but she wasn’t protesting, either. At least not yet. “I first visited Paris as a boy, and I’ve been here a number of other times. And while I do want to reacquaint myself with those places in the city that have attracted visitors for centuries, I don’t want to fail to see what—according to the papers—thousands of foreign visitors are flocking to. Why, the Gallery of Machines alone is worth the effort.”

“Is it?”

“And think, India, of the opportunities that a day spent seeing the marvels of invention and curiosities from around the world will give your campaign to reform me. I shall be so busy soaking up the wonders of progress that your incessant tirade about the Lady Travelers Society will sink into my conscience without so much as a protest.”

“I don’t believe I mentioned an incessant tirade.” It was all the woman could do to keep a smile from her lips although—to give her credit—she gave it a sterling effort. But there was nothing that could hide the sparkle of amusement in her eyes. “Although, now that you have mentioned it, an incessant tirade seems a rather brilliant suggestion.”

“Thank you.”

She laughed, a light, musical sort of sound almost tentative in nature as if it wasn’t used to being displayed. It certainly hadn’t been around him. Indeed, this was the first time he’d heard her laugh, and it did the oddest things to the pit of his stomach and possibly his heart. It struck him that if her smile was a reward, her laughter was a gift.

“Then you agree to my terms? You will share Paris with me?”

She hesitated.

“I have always considered Paris a special place. And I have never shown it to a lady before.” His gaze met hers. “I would consider it a great honor if you would allow me to show you those sights that make this city remarkable.”

“I’ve never especially wanted to see Paris.” Her gaze remained meshed with his.

“India, I believe when an unexpected opportunity comes along, especially one that is not likely to come along again, one should throw caution aside and seize it. Carpe diem, as it were.”

“The thought of seizing the day has never occurred to me. Nor has tossing caution aside for any reason.” She paused. “But then I’m not sure I’ve ever been confronted with an unexpected opportunity before.”

“And now you have.” He resisted the urge to reach for her hand. “What do you say, India?”

“Well...yes, I suppose. But only as part of my efforts to save your eternal soul,” she added quickly.

“I can’t imagine you doing it for any other reason.” He grinned. Even the guidebooks agreed there was enough of worth in Paris to keep a visitor busy for months. And surely they wouldn’t need that long.

His uncle’s resources would no doubt find Lady Heloise soon, hopefully safe and in one piece. Derek would allow India to save him and make the grand gesture of giving up the Lady Travelers Society or, at the very least, transform it into something entirely legitimate. By then, Derek would know how he truly felt about Miss India Prendergast, beyond a simple wish to kiss her. And furthermore, what he needed to do about it.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the nagging thought in the back of his mind that there was nothing simple about this at all.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Guidebooks are indispensable and should be carried at all times. But do not rely on them to the exclusion of unforeseen possibilities. Some of the best travel adventures are those that are not planned.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

“WHEN YOU SAID you wished to show me the sights, I had no idea you wanted to show me everything at once.” India gazed out over the city of Paris at her feet and tried not to think about just how high up this highest platform of the Eiffel Tower really was. Or rather tried not to think how far it was to the ground. And tried very hard to ignore words like plummet or tumble or thud, which kept popping into her head.

Derek rested his forearms on the railing and leaned forward, which did not strike her as wise. “I thought this would be a unique opportunity to see the city as few have seen it before.”

“Aside from birds?”

He chuckled, his gaze firmly fixed on the vista spread before him.

“Well, you did say opportunities should be seized,” she murmured and returned to her perusal of the City of Light—which Derek had explained had more to do with the city’s position in the last century as a place of enlightenment and education than being the first city in Europe to illuminate its streets with gas lighting. He did seem to relish sharing such insights.

She hadn’t expected—or particularly wanted—to go up in the architectural monstrosity that could be seen from everywhere in the city. In that, she was apparently alone. If she’d thought the boulevards and streets of Paris were crowded, they paled in comparison to the hordes of Parisians and visitors that swarmed into the exposition. They waited in long queues for lemonade and souvenirs and especially their turn to begin the terrifying series of elevators that would take them to this highest public platform of the Eiffel Tower. She was fairly certain she’d never heard so many different languages in one place before. She and Derek had avoided waiting too long in the warm afternoon sun thanks to Lord Brookings, who supplied two special tickets that allowed them to move to the front of the queue.

India had never thought she was afraid of heights but then—until today—she’d never been tested. The elevators provided a relatively smooth ride but had an appalling tendency to jerk now and then on the way to the summit. While there were gasps of alarm from several of those in the elevator car with them, India was pleased that she had not so much as uttered a word. It was not easy.

“I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you chose to accept my advice,” Derek said with a satisfied grin, his attention still directed toward the view.

“I wouldn’t become accustomed to it if I were you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”

The platform seemed steady enough although there was a bit of a breeze, and India was certain the entire structure swayed with the light wind. In that, she might have been mistaken as no one else seemed to notice. There were far more people up here than she would have considered safe, but Derek had assured her this level was constructed to hold as many as nine hundred visitors. Even so, it was not overly reassuring. Derek was a fount of knowledge about the Eiffel Tower, the exposition and Paris itself. It was as if she had a personal guide, which was really rather nice and far more interesting than she would have expected. And she was willing to admit—however reluctantly—that the view was indeed magnificent.

“Did you know, on a clear day you can see as far as fifty miles?”

“Why, I had no idea,” she said drily.

“You can deny it all you want, but I am well aware you are enjoying this.”

“Am I?”

“You are. I can see it in your face and even you have to admit seeing Paris spread out before us is remarkable.”

She started to deny it, but it was absurd. He was right. “I believe I am enjoying this at that.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Refuse to admit that you might well be enjoying something you did not expect to enjoy.”

“Nonsense. I just said I was enjoying this.”

“Reluctantly.”

“I do apologize if I did not muster up the proper level of enthusiasm,” she said lightly.

“I think you even enjoyed Montmartre.”

“Everything looks better in hindsight, Derek.” She bit back a smile. The further away they moved from that night, the more, well, adventurous it became. Certainly, she had never sought adventure, but it did seem when adventure presented itself, it was irrational to waste the experience. Only as a lesson learned, of course.

“I suppose if you admit you’re enjoying something then you would have to admit that you might, just might, have been wrong,” he said thoughtfully.

“I don’t refuse to admit when I’m wrong.” She sniffed. “It’s simply that I am never wrong.”

His brow rose.

“If one is right, there is no need to doubt one’s actions. Especially if one has responsibilities for the well-being of others.” Although she was beginning to lose track of how many times she’d been wrong since she’d met Derek.

“You were wrong about coming up here.”

“On the contrary, I never said a word in protest.”

He snorted. “You didn’t have to. It was apparent.”

She was about to deny it when it struck her that, once again, he was right. Whether it was habit or inclination she did exactly what he was charging. Without warning, she saw herself as an old woman, complaining about everything that wasn’t done precisely to her liking and refusing to acknowledge when something was better than she expected. When she was wrong. As that would surely be a sign of...what? Weakness? Dependence? Not accepting one’s duty? She had no idea, but it was a horrible image and certainly the end of the path she was on. Worse, it did seem that woman was not merely old but alone. As a glimpse of the future it was terrifying. But was it unavoidable, as well?

“India?” he said cautiously. “You look distraught. I am sorry if I—”

“Well, you did,” she said sharply. “Even if you’ve said nothing that probably isn’t true.” She drew a deep breath. “Ever since I arrived in Paris, ever since I met you, it seems everyone I meet is determined to point out my...my flaws to me. Flaws I was quite frankly unaware of. No one has ever seen fit to mention them before.”

“Perhaps you didn’t give them a chance.”

“Perhaps it was better that way!”

“Perhaps,” he said mildly and wisely changed the subject. “If we follow the railing to the left, we should be able to see the Cathedral of Notre Dame.”

“I believe I will enjoy that.” She glared and moved in the direction he indicated. “I can hardly wait to see what flaws God might see fit to point out to me.”

He choked back a laugh behind her. She ignored him. She was not the least bit amused.

From this distance, the cathedral looked like little more than a child’s toy but then everything below them did. Carriages, omnibuses, tramway cars were nothing more than moving shapes. People were no bigger than minuscule insects. It was an interesting perspective on the world, and her irritation faded.

She braced her hands on the railing and stared out at the cathedral and beyond. She had heard that travel broadened one’s mind. She wasn’t sure if her mind had been broadened at all, but her eyes had certainly been opened. She had already realized she had a propensity for intolerance and a greater tendency toward impatience than she had thought, especially with the flaws of others. Now she was discovering she had a great many unsuspected flaws herself. Flaws she should probably correct. But not today. Determination squared her chin. Today, she had a scoundrel to redeem.

“Derek.” She glanced at him beside her. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh good, I was afraid you hadn’t,” he said in a resigned manner.

She frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“In the two days since I agreed to let you try to convince me to reform, for lack of a better word, you have begun every conversation on the subject with ‘I’ve been thinking.’”

“And you have cut off every conversation.”

“Because I had no intention of listening to you until you began fulfilling your end of the bargain.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” She waved at the panorama around them. “On top of the highest structure man has ever built.”

“But you’re not very gracious about it.”

“I am bloody delighted!”

He lowered his voice. “We are beginning to attract attention. It scarcely matters to me but—”

“Once more you’re right.” She forced a smile. “Is that better?”

“If you mean the alleged smile—it’s somewhat frightening.” He returned his gaze to the panoramic view. “However, I am made of sterner stuff than to let an insincere smile dissuade me.”

“That is good to know.” She widened her smile although she suspected it did look more like her stomach hurt than anything remotely pleasant. Regardless, it was the best she could manage at the moment. “I was only going to say that I was wondering if my cousin had made it up here. Going to the top of the Eiffel Tower was one of the things she hoped to do in Paris.”

“Then I can’t imagine she would have missed it.” He paused. “Which could indicate we might be close to finding her.”

“Are we?”

“The elevators only began operating last week. I can’t imagine even the intrepid Lady Heloise would wish to climb the steps.”

“No, she’s not overly fond of steps.”

“If she was here as recently as last week, she might still be here.”

India nodded. “The exposition and the tower were two of the reasons she intended to linger for a while in Paris. That and the art.”

“I think you mentioned her interest in art before.”

“Heloise adores art and has studied it for most of her life. She also fancies herself an artist. She has a studio of sorts on the top floor of the house and spends a great deal of time with her paints and brushes and canvases.”

“Rather frivolous, don’t you think?” he teased.

“Not at all,” she said staunchly, then sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid I do. Especially as, well, she’s not very good at it. The walls of the house are covered with her efforts. She’s quite proud of them.”

“And you have never told her the truth?”

“Goodness, Derek, I would never tell her that.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

She glanced at him but his attention was still on the scenic view. “You’re surprised.”

He chuckled.

“I deserve that I suppose. But Heloise has been very kind to me. She is my family.” She hesitated then plunged ahead. “Heloise was my mother’s cousin. My parents were engaged in missionary work when they died. I had just started at Miss Bicklesham’s—I was always boarding at some school or another as my parents were rarely in England. Heloise was named my guardian and my home has been with her ever since. She managed to continue to fund my education even though her income is limited.”

“Is it?”

She nodded. “I owe her a great deal. She’s been both mother and dearest friend to me.” Her throat tightened. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“Or what she would do without you?”

“Perhaps.” She pushed aside the disconcerting thought of never seeing Heloise again. “I took over management of her household and very nearly everything else when I finished school. She has only the vaguest idea how to run a house. She never concerns herself with what she deems unimportant details. She does see to the household accounts but only because I stand over her and force her to do so although she has always been concerned about money.” She smiled. “But Heloise is not what one would call organized.”

“Imagine my surprise.”

“This excursion of hers is a perfect example. Right from the beginning, she was not definitive in her travel plans. She said she might be gone anywhere from six months to a year and fully intended to stay as long as she wished anywhere that caught her fancy.” She thought for a moment. “I did not pay as much attention to the details as I should have. I’m not sure I thought she would really leave.”

He nodded.

“You’ve mentioned the lax nature of her itinerary—” she glanced at him “—for which I blame the Lady Travelers Society as much as I blame Heloise.”

“As well you should.”

She turned toward him. “The other day you derided me because I have no desires, nothing I particularly want. I admit I don’t understand it, but Heloise wanted to see for herself things she had only seen in paintings or photographs. It was her dream. I had no idea she was doing it, but it seems she set aside money for years—small bits and pieces she could ill afford really, so that she might one day see the world beyond England’s shores. I suspect she gave up a fresh canvas here or a new tube of paint there to save funds for this trip of hers. I imagine in that respect, she was not unlike most of the members of the Lady Travelers Society.”

He studied her thoughtfully. “In that they wish to see the world?”

“And they are willing to sacrifice to do so.” Determination strengthened her voice. “I saw the ladies at the meeting, Derek. They were not wealthy. Women with money do not attend lectures and meetings about travel. They travel. They do not have to save their pennies to finance their dreams. The women you are taking money from do.”

An undefined emotion washed across his face. Guilt perhaps? Or regret?

“One could say you are stealing their dreams.”

He winced. “It sounds awful when you put it like that.”

“It is awful.”

“I had not looked at it in quite that way.” He shook his head. “It certainly deserves further consideration.”

“Good.” At the moment, that was all she could ask for. But the very fact that he would consider what she had said was gratifying. As was the expression on his face. She was right—underneath it all, Derek was a good man.

“For someone who admits she has no dreams...” He studied her closely. “You seem to understand quite a lot about them.”

“Do I?” She smiled. “I assure you no one is more surprised at that than I.”

His gaze searched hers. “There is so much more to you than you would have people see.”

“I imagine that could be said about any of us.”

“I very much want to kiss you, India Prendergast.”

“Still?” She stared up at him.

He chuckled. “Apparently.”

“Why?” It was the first thing that came to mind.

“Any number of reasons, I suspect.” Bewilderment shone in his blue eyes, then resolve. “None of which I wish to detail at the moment.”

“But—” She glanced around. No one seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to them. “Here? Now?” Her pulse sped up.

“We are on the top of the world.” His gaze slipped to her lips and back. “I can’t think of a better place or time.”

She swallowed hard. “But there are a great many people here.”

“And yet.” He stepped closer. “I see only you.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. “Everyone will stare.”

“Let them.”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “Kissing in public, Derek, that’s highly improper and, well, scandalous.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Of course not, you’ve done worse.” She shook her head. “But I care.”

“You said you didn’t care about what other people think.”

“I lied.” She sighed. “Besides, it’s pointless.”

“Pointless?” He narrowed his gaze in confusion.

“There can never be anything between us.” This was much harder to say than she’d imagined. “I believe we agreed on that.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to anything quite that absurd.”

“It was implied.” She turned back toward the view. “When we discussed the type of woman you are expected to marry. I am not that woman.”

“Nor do I believe I said anything about marriage.” Amusement sounded in his voice.

“I am well aware of that. I am not so stuffy as to believe a kiss is a commitment to eternity.”

“God forbid.”

She ignored him. “But a kiss is more than just a frivolous moment. At least it should be. And it is for most of us. Perhaps not for you.”

“I have always liked frivolous moments.”

“And I am not the least bit frivolous. I have always thought a kiss to be something of a...a promise.”

“A beginning then?” he said cautiously.

“Well, yes. But as anything between us other than friendship is impossible, it seems foolish to begin something that cannot end well.”

“I don’t understand this at all.” He paused. “Have you never been kissed, India?”

“I am not in the habit of randomly kissing gentlemen.” Or kissing anyone at all.

“There is nothing random about this. As I have already confessed, I have given the idea of kissing you a great deal of thought. And more so in recent days.”

“Well then perhaps spontaneous is a better word.” She shrugged. “As I assume you did not plan for this particular moment.”

“No.” Frustration sounded in his voice. “And while it might have been spontaneous a moment ago, I assure you the spontaneity of it has passed.”

“Then you no longer wish to kiss me?” She held her breath.

“Oh, I still wish to kiss you.” He heaved a resigned sigh. “But this is obviously not the right moment.”

“Obviously.” She ignored the unexpected disappointment that washed through her. “If that’s settled then...” She had the most absurd desire to flee. “If you will pardon me for a moment, I wish to...um...see the view elsewhere...” She turned and stepped away, circling around the tourists in her path.

Good Lord! She stopped short. What on earth was she running from? She was nearly thirty years old and had never been kissed! She’d never so much as given it a second thought before, but now it struck her as truly awful. And somewhat pathetic. And shouldn’t she do something about it? Carpe diem, after all.

Before she could think better of it, she swiveled on her heel and marched back to Derek.

“Yes?” His brow rose.

She grabbed the lapels of his coat, rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The most remarkable spark of something electric and quite wonderful shot through her at the feel of his warm lips against hers. He smelled vaguely of warm spice and tasted faintly of lemonade and summer.

She released him, stepped back and caught her breath. “There.”

“There?” He looked as taken aback as she felt.

“Now I have been kissed on the Eiffel Tower,” she said with a surprisingly firm nod given something had replaced her stomach with a quivering mass of aspic.

“On the contrary, my dear Miss Prendergast. I have been kissed on the Eiffel Tower. You have not.”

“You did kiss me back.”

“A natural response to being kissed, but you caught me by surprise.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “It was not my best effort.”

She frowned. “The, well, quality of the kiss cannot be blamed on me. Indeed, I thought it was...”

“Adequate, no more than adequate. And you’re absolutely right—it cannot be blamed on you.” He pulled her into his arms and stared intently down at her. “But my dear Miss Prendergast, this can.” He pressed his lips to hers.

For a moment, she froze. Then unexpected heat swept through her, and she thought she would surely melt into a small puddle of heretofore unsuspected sensation and something...more. He angled his mouth harder over hers. Her lips opened slightly, and her breath mingled with his and...and adequate was the farthest thing from her mind. And she knew without question or doubt, this kiss, this moment, this man would linger in her thoughts, in her heart for the rest of her days. Still, it wasn’t a promise or a beginning, it was no more than a foolish error in judgment.

She pulled back and struggled to catch her breath. “People are staring, Mr. Saunders.” She stared up at him. “You should, well, release me, I think.”

“I thought you didn’t care what people say?” He stared down at her.

“I don’t care what they say. I care what they see.” She drew a deep breath and pushed out of his arms. “This was...” She shook her head. “A dreadful mistake.”

“What?” His brows drew together. “Why?”

“Because I am...” She impatiently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Eroding as it were. With every minute, you are wearing me away. What I think. How I feel. The rules I have always lived my life by.” She shook her head. “And this cannot end well.”

“Why?”

“You know why!”

“No, I don’t.” He glared at her. “And that nonsense you keep bringing up about the type of woman I am supposed to be with is nothing but...nonsense. Complete and utter foolishness. And you are far too intelligent to believe that.”

“It’s simply the way things are.” Her voice rose. “You can protest it all you want, but you cannot deny the facts of it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what this is about at all.” He studied her intently. Realization dawned on his face. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”