The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen

As much as she had decided he was, somewhere deep inside, a decent man, he was also right. “I’ve made no effort to conceal that.”

“I understand your reticence to trust me when we first met. Now, however, I thought I had proved myself to be most trustworthy.”

“Somewhat, I suppose, perhaps, but—”

“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” He glared at her with equal parts anger and disbelief. “You haven’t trusted me from the beginning, and you are unwilling to bend so much as the tiniest bit to admit that just possibly, once again, you were wrong.”

“That’s not entirely fair.” She raised her chin.

“The world is not fair, India—remember?”

“I...” She stared at him for a long moment. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss whatever feelings she—or he—might have. Nor did she have any idea what to say. This was not the kind of problem she knew how to solve. She straightened her shoulders. “I have no desire to discuss this further. Any of it.”

Someone behind them cleared his throat, and Derek stepped back. The most awful sense of mortification swept over her, and she did so wish she was the type of woman who fainted.

“I should like to leave now,” she said coolly.

“And I should like to take another turn around the platform.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “And the discussion is far from over.” He nodded and strode off.

She turned back to the endless view of Paris and stared unseeing into the distance. Somewhere, in a part of her mind not oddly still and numb, she noted people continuing to move past her. She heard excited comments about the view and the remarkable nature of the tower. The world, even here at the tallest manmade pinnacle, continued as it always had, as it always would.

But India would never be the same. Something inside her had changed. Twisted. Shattered. The question was why, and she had no answer. Regardless, it seemed to hold a great deal of pain.

Derek returned a few minutes later. “If you’re ready...”

“More than ready,” she murmured and accompanied him toward the elevators. They joined the crowd waiting for the next ride down.

The ride to the ground, including the changing of elevators, was fraught with tension. As if they were each tied to the end of a taut rope that neither could break or ease. The silence between them on the return to the house was broken only by an occasional terse question on his part or hers. They’d originally planned to explore some of the exposition but neither now seemed inclined to do anything other than retreat to Lord Brookings’s house.

For the first time in her life, India didn’t know what to say and thought it best to say nothing. She was by turns angry, regretful and astonished. None of this would have happened if he had not announced he wished to kiss her. Why on earth did he have to do that? What was he thinking? And if he really wanted to kiss her, why? Did he harbor feelings of affection for her? Perhaps he should have mentioned that. And why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? About him?

Much of the blame really should be put on her. Whatever possessed her to make such a spectacle of herself? She’d kissed him! She’d never kissed a man before. Had never wanted to. And who would have imagined how...moving that kiss would be? Although it did pale in comparison to the kiss he gave her.

After what seemed like forever, they arrived at the house. He escorted her inside, then turned to her in the foyer.

“Once again, I owe you an apology, India,” he said coolly. “I put you in an awkward position in public, and for that I am truly sorry. Apparently, whenever I wish to kiss you, it does not end well. However, it was a kiss. Nothing more than that. And you’re right. It was a mistake. Good day.” He started toward the parlor, then paused and returned. “I nearly forgot.” He pulled a large coin from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to her. “Something to remind you of the day.” He nodded and took his leave.

She stared after him for a long moment.

She’d been kissed for the first time. In a public place. By a man who was as much scoundrel as gentleman. A man with whom there could be no future. A man who now was obviously furious with her.

She looked down at the object in her hand. It wasn’t a coin but a medal. On the side facing her was a depiction of the Eiffel Tower dwarfing world monuments including Saint Paul’s Cathedral and the pyramids, together with the dates of the tower’s construction and opening. She turned it over. On the other side, in French, was written that this was a souvenir of ascending to the summit of the Eiffel Tower. She’d never had a souvenir before.

How terribly ironic that now she had a souvenir of a day she couldn’t possibly ever forget.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“SHE’S INSANE, I tell you.” Derek strode into the parlor. “The woman is mad, utterly completely mad.”

Val leaned against the mantel. His eyes widened at the appearance of his brother.

“I can’t believe that I thought, perhaps, for no more than a moment really, it just popped into my head and—”

“Someone you met on the street no doubt,” Val said in a manner that struck Derek as anxious, and nodded toward a high-backed chair.

“Don’t be absurd.” Derek stalked to the cabinet where Val kept good Scottish whisky and fine Spanish sherry for whatever lady might be with him at the moment. “Admittedly, the thought had crossed my mind, only when we had discussed why she didn’t want to be married. Have you ever heard such words from a female? I’ve never met a woman like her. She’s an enigma. The most confusing creature on earth.” He yanked the cabinet doors open. “We seem to have discussed marriage quite a bit in a theoretical, philosophical sort of way but not as it pertained to the two of us. At least not the two of us together. I never mentioned anything remotely like spending the rest of our days together.” He grabbed the decanter of whisky. “All I wanted was to kiss her. One, simple kiss—not a lifelong commitment!”

Val winced. “I really don’t think—”

“Worse—she rejected me!” He sloshed a healthy portion into a glass. “Not that there was anything to reject. But it’s insulting nonetheless. And offensive. And unpleasant.” He tossed back a fast swallow. “Most unpleasant. Rather like being stabbed. In...in the heart! Yes, that’s it exactly. Even if one isn’t certain one’s heart is engaged, she stabbed me in the heart nonetheless. The woman made assumptions based on nothing more than a request for a kiss. She simply skipped over any number of—I don’t know—steps I suppose, that this sort of thing requires.” He downed the rest of the whisky.

“Steps?” Val stared with a look that might have been horror on his face and jerked his head sharply toward the chair. What on earth was the matter with him?

“Yes—steps! In this day and age, one kiss does not mean ‘marry me.’ One does not plunge into marriage.” Derek refilled the glass “Particularly not with a woman who drives you stark, raving mad! What kind of woman refuses to marry you when you haven’t asked? When you haven’t even thought about it?”

“I have no idea,” Val said cautiously.

“I’ll tell you what kind of woman!” He took a large swallow. “The kind who—”

“No!” Desperation sounded in Val’s voice.

“Well, I for one would like to hear that.” A familiar voice rang from the back of the room.

Val cringed.

“Mother?” Derek turned and stared.

The Marchioness of Westvale rose in the graceful manner she had long ago perfected from a chair in the shadows of the room. “Good day, Derek. You’re looking well.”

Val groaned.

Derek threw his brother an annoyed look. “Why didn’t you tell me she was here?”

Val snorted. “I tried.”

“Your poor dear brother practically snapped his neck off trying to indicate there was someone else in the room. You were simply too agitated to notice. Although I must say I’m delighted he didn’t succeed. Your tirade was entirely too interesting to miss.” Mother smiled pleasantly.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He moved to her and kissed her cheek.

“I must say, your presence in Paris is an unexpected surprise.”

“As is yours.” His mind raced back over everything he had said since he’d stepped into the room. Bloody hell.

Celia Newell, the Marchioness of Westvale—formerly Mrs. Saunders and then the Marchioness of Brookings—was, to most of the world, a charming, attractive woman who did not look at all her true age, not that even her sons knew exactly what that age was. She was a perfect hostess and a delightful conversationalist. She was a sought-after guest at dinner parties or country house sojourns or any kind of social event. But when something caught her interest she was, as well, very much like a dog with a bone. Derek braced himself. Unless Stephen, Lord Westvale, had managed to curb her innate tendencies toward meddling in the five years of their marriage, she would never let Derek’s display of ire pass unmentioned. Especially as it concerned a woman.

“Is it really?” She cast Val a chastising glance. “You didn’t tell him we were coming?”

Val shrugged uneasily. “It slipped my mind?”

“Percival.” Mother’s brow furrowed delicately. “You are hosting a ball in this very house not more than five days from now. I do hope that didn’t slip your mind, as well.”

“You’re having a ball?” Derek stared. “Here?”

Val ignored him. “Of course not, Mother,” Val said smoothly. “You simply had the arrangements well in hand when you were last here, so I wasn’t the least bit worried about it.”

She studied him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded. “Aside from final details, I suppose there’s little left to do.” She turned her attention back to Derek. “Stephen and I were here last month for the opening of the exposition. I must say I was surprised by how many people I know are here. Why, London society must be totally bereft of anyone of interest at all. Although the season is winding down, I suppose.” She sank back into her chair. “There hasn’t been a grand ball in this house for years.” She aimed a hard look at her stepson. “Of course, if Percival had a wife, I’m certain that social oversight would be corrected.”

“Keep in mind, I spend only a few months here every year. Paris is not my primary residence,” Val pointed out, wisely avoiding any reference to his unmarried state. He had come very close once, a few years ago, and had yet to again find whatever it was he was looking for in a wife. But there was no question he quite enjoyed his unencumbered status.

Mother, however, took Val’s—and Derek’s, too, for that matter—failure to wed as a personal affront. Fortunately, Lord Westvale proved a continuing distraction from her crusade to see her sons married. Derek rued the inevitable day when the couple became too comfortable with each other and Mother could fully turn her attentions back to her unmarried sons.

“Nonetheless, there are social obligations that do need to be fulfilled on occasion,” she said firmly.

“Yes, Mother.” Val nodded, playing dutiful son to the hilt.

And leaving Mother free to give Derek her full attention. “When I last saw you in London, you made no mention of coming to Paris.”

“When we last spoke, I didn’t know I would be.” Exactly how much should he tell her?

Her brow arched upward. “So this was unanticipated on your part? A spur of the moment sort of thing?”

On one hand, the more she knew, the more she might be able to help. “One could say that.”

“And Edward did not protest?”

On the other, the more she knew, the more dangerous she might be. “Not at all.”

She studied him closely. He resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot like a guilty schoolboy. “That doesn’t sound like Edward. He was quite serious about you—how did he put it?”

“Accepting your responsibilities, giving up a pointless life of excess, debauchery and misdeeds? Becoming a man?” Val offered.

“Thank you.” Derek clenched his teeth. “I had forgotten the exact wording.”

“Anything I can do to help.” Val’s expression was solemn, but amusement shone in his eyes. “I think you need to tell her everything.”

“Again, you have my thanks,” Derek snapped, but Val was probably right. Besides, one way or another, Mother would surely find out everything anyway. She always did. “Very well.” He added another splash of whisky to his glass, then drew a deep breath. “When you and Lord Westvale left London, you charged me with looking after Aunt Guinevere. A duty, I might add, that you have not shouldered particularly well.”

“Nonsense.” She sniffed. “I call on Aunt Guinevere frequently. Dear, sweet, fragile lady that she is.”

Val snorted back a laugh and headed toward the whisky decanter.

“Then you are aware that she and two of her dearest friends have started an organization ostensibly to assist women with information and travel arrangements but that in truth does little more than provide her and the other ladies a steady income?”

“Why, how very clever of Aunt Guinevere.” Mother beamed, deftly managing to avoid answering the question.

Derek gritted his teeth. “And did you know they are offering services they are not competent to provide nor do they feel compelled to provide? Which might well be seen as, oh I don’t know—fraud?”

“I’m certain that’s nothing more than a misunderstanding.” Mother waved off the charge. “No doubt one that can be rectified.”

“Well, it would have been easier to rectify had they not lost one of their members!”

“Surely they can’t be blamed for that,” Mother said slowly.

“Surely they can!” Derek glared at his mother. It was past time she accepted some of the responsibility for this mess. God knew he had.

“Percival?” She craned her neck and peered around Derek. “Some sherry, if you please.”

“Already poured, Mother.” Val stepped around his brother and handed her a glass. “I suspected you might need this.” He took a position slightly behind her chair and shot his brother a knowing smirk.

“You are a thoughtful son. Thank you, dear.” Mother took a sip, no doubt as much for a moment to consider Derek’s words as for the bracing effects of the wine. “None of which explains why you are in Paris.”

Val leaned over the back of the chair and addressed his mother. “This is where it gets really good.”

She glanced at Val. “I thought the really good part had to do with the woman who won’t marry him.”

“Stop talking as if I’m not here.” Derek blew a frustrated breath. “And there are no good parts. This is not some sort of French farce.”

“And yet we are in France,” Mother murmured.

“I’m here because this is the last place we know that Lady Heloise Snuggs visited.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed. “And who is that?”

Derek heaved a long-suffering sigh. “She is the Lady Travelers Society member who seems to have disappeared.”

“Lady Heloise Snuggs?” Mother shook her head. “I don’t know her. Although I believe I might have known a Snuggs once. Charming fellow if I’m thinking of the right person.” She glanced at Val. “One meets so many people.”

Val raised his glass to her. “And more than a few Snuggs.”

“And you’re trying to find her?” Mother asked.

“Exactly.” Derek nodded.

“Which does explain why you are here. Now then...” Mother sipped her sherry. “You said this is the last place we knew, I should like to know who we is, as I’m assuming it’s not Percival.”

“I have nothing to do with this,” Val said quickly.

“I didn’t think so, dear. And, more important, who is the woman you haven’t asked to marry you but wouldn’t do so anyway?” Mother’s tone was pleasant but there was a familiar look in her eye. Derek had always thought it similar to that of a predator right before pouncing on its prey.

“We would be myself and Miss India Prendergast. Lady Heloise’s cousin.”

“Her much younger cousin.” Val leaned forward. “A rather interesting woman, Mother. Quite efficient and intelligent, obviously as she has refused to marry Derek—”

“I didn’t ask her!”

“Too proper for my taste, wound too tight if you will,” Val continued, “but surprisingly attractive in spite of her dreadful clothes.” He shuddered. “Excellent lungs on her, too.”

“I see,” Mother murmured, a speculative look in her eye. “So you are traveling with an unmarried woman, Derek?”

“I assure you we are appropriately chaperoned.” Derek threw a silent prayer of thanks in the direction of England and Aunt Guinevere. “Professor and Mrs. Greer are accompanying us. He was a colleague of Uncle Charles.”

“I have never heard of him.” Mother shrugged, then shot a quelling glance at Val. “Don’t say it, dear.”

Val gasped in feigned indignation. “I wasn’t going to say a word about your lack of acquaintances—or interest—in all things academic.”

Mother gave him the kind of look both he and Val had lived in fear of as boys. From the time Mother had married Val’s father she had treated him exactly as she treated Derek. And he adored her for it.

“I have interests in any number of diverse subjects, several academic in nature. Admittedly, I find some more worthy of note than others.” She pinned Val with a firm look. “You would do well to remember that.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said solemnly but his eyes gleamed with laughter.

As did hers. Until she returned her attention to her younger son. “When would you suggest I meet Miss Prendergast?”

“Why do you want to meet her?” Derek said without thinking.

Val winced.

“Why wouldn’t I want to meet her?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It just doesn’t strike me as a wise idea.”

“Nonsense. For one thing we are all houseguests together.” She glanced at Val. “I would like to meet the professor and his wife, as well.”

“Dinner tonight, I would think,” Val said.

“I don’t know that I wish to wait that long to meet the woman who refuses to marry my son.” She smiled. “Tell me about her.”

“I’m not sure there is much more to tell,” Derek said cautiously.

“Really?” Mother raised a brow. “Nothing more than she is a cousin of a Snuggs, intelligent, proper and has poor taste in clothing?”

“I think she’s rather intriguing,” Val said.

“I can tell her that.” Derek huffed. “After all, she is my—”

“Your what?” A wicked light shone in his brother’s eyes.

“Your what, dear?” Mother asked, a similar light in her eyes.

“My responsibility,” he said firmly.

“Is she indeed?” Mother studied him.

“Speaking of responsibilities, a telegram came for you earlier.” Val pulled a paper out of his waistcoat pocket and handed it to his brother, knowing full well he had just changed the subject. Derek shot him a grateful look.

Derek scanned the message. It was from Uncle Edward, who was notoriously tight with his wording in such things, as if a few pennies here or there made a great deal of difference to his net worth. Apparently one of the detectives he had hired was now in Paris with information about Lady Heloise. Derek was to meet with him tomorrow at his hotel. Thankfully not a Grand Hotel.

“Good news?” Mother asked hopefully.

“With any luck.” As much as Derek had been unexpectedly enjoying India’s company, as much as he was perplexed by this inescapable attraction to her, as much as he couldn’t quite determine exactly what he was feeling at the moment, finding Lady Heloise and getting on with his life had a great deal of appeal. Still, as annoyed as he was with the woman, not seeing India every day was not something he wished to consider. Nor did he need to. Yet. “Uncle Edward has hired investigators to help locate Lady Heloise while Miss Prendergast and I search for her here. I am to meet with one of his detectives tomorrow morning.”

“A detective?” Mother’s eyes widened. “How very exciting.”

“It’s not exciting. It’s a necessity.” Something that might well have been guilt sharpened his tone. Aside from all else that had happened today, he couldn’t get the idea that the Lady Travelers Society had been stealing women’s dreams out of his head. “One that would not be needed at all if Aunt Guinevere had not been forced to find some way of improving her finances. If you had paid more attention to her perhaps you would have noticed she was very nearly at poverty’s doorstep.”

Val cringed.

Mother stared at him for a long moment. “My mother, God rest her soul, used to say there was no one in the world more independent than her sister. When your uncle Charles was away on one of his expeditions, my mother would invite Guinevere to stay with us. She never once accepted, saying she was able to take care of herself and she preferred to do so.”

“That might well be, but now she is getting on in years, and she needs assistance and attention,” Derek said sharply. Admittedly, he had shirked his familial responsibilities up to this point, but now that he had been made aware of Aunt Guinevere’s plight, he was willing to do whatever was needed to make certain the elderly lady—and her friends—were taken care of. Mother needed to acknowledge her failure in this, as well. “She deserves better than to be abandoned by her family.”

“Abandoned?” Mother’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have you know, I call on Guinevere at least once and usually twice a month when I am in town. In addition, every month, I send a carriage for her so that she might join me for tea or join us for dinner. Fully half the time, she begs off—claiming a previous commitment. When she does come, she often brings her two old friends with her and they are most welcome.” Mother met Derek’s gaze directly. “At no time has Guinevere ever given me so much as a hint that she had financial problems of any kind. Indeed, she has always led me to believe Uncle Charles left her quite well off.”

“Even so—”

“Furthermore, Derek, I am not so scatterbrained, nor am I so absorbed in my own life, as to ignore a family member in need, particularly not Aunt Guinevere. I love the dear woman. But she has never said a word about financial difficulties nor has she ever implied that all was not well.”

“I can’t imagine it’s easy for a woman who has lived her entire life depending mostly on herself to admit that she can no longer do so,” Val said. “Pride and all that.”

“No doubt,” Mother said coolly. “Guinevere has not been abandoned by me, Derek. And I quite resent that you think so.”

He winced. “My apologies, Mother. That might have been unfair of me.”

“It was more than unfair. It was offensive, unkind and undeserved.”

She was right. Was there so much as a single woman alive he would not do battle with today? “I am truly sorry.”

“However, given the way you burst into the room, you have obviously already had a difficult day so I suppose your thoughtless comments can be attributed to your foul mood. And therefore overlooked.”

Val snorted.

“I appreciate that, Mother,” Derek said under his breath.

“And I assure you, my aunt and I will have a long chat about this very thing the moment I return to London. If I have been lax in my obligations toward her, have no doubt, I will rectify that.” Mother’s tone hardened. “I’m certain we can devise a plan to provide her—”

“They,” Derek said.

Mother frowned. “They?”

“They—Aunt Guinevere, Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore.” Derek shrugged in a helpless manner. “They are like sisters.”

“Like the Three Musketeers.” Val nodded. “One for all and all for one, that sort of thing.”

“I suspect, whatever financial support we are able to provide, Aunt Guinevere will share it with the others.”

“Of course, I should have realized that. The three of them are indeed bound together by affection and history. They have been close for as long as I can remember. Quite a daunting and yet amusing trio. Ophelia and Persephone are every bit as unique in character as Guinevere. I find them all quite enjoyable.” She paused. “Perhaps something can be done with this Lady Travelers Society of theirs.”

“Something legitimate,” Derek said quickly.

“Without question.” Mother frowned. “And I don’t know why you think it was necessary to point that out. I should hate for dear Aunt Guinevere or her friends to be incarcerated.” She considered the matter for a moment. “I shall have to talk to Stephen about this. I daresay he’ll come up with some sort of clever idea. He’s quite brilliant, you know.”

Derek and Val traded long-suffering glances.

“Where is Lord Westvale?” Derek asked.

“He had business to attend to. Stephen has some sort of business very nearly everywhere we go.” Mother rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. She had never been tolerant of business. “He should return shortly. You’ll see him at dinner.” She finished her sherry and held her now-empty glass out to Val. He dutifully took it and crossed the room to refill the glass. “Now, what are you doing to find your Lady Heloise? I assume you’re not simply waiting for your uncle’s efforts to bear fruit.”

“No, we most certainly are not.” Derek swirled the whisky in his glass. “We are continuing to canvass those places Lady Heloise intended to visit. And, as one of her letters referred to the Grand Hotel she was staying in, Miss Prendergast and I have been checking all the hotels in Paris with the word grand in the name—”

Mother stared. “All of them? That must have taken forever.”

“Very nearly.” Val returned and handed Mother her glass.

“Indeed it has, but Uncle Edward thought it best to keep Miss Prendergast in Paris as long as possible while his investigators try to find her cousin. We’ve not had any luck yet.” He took a thoughtful sip. “But I have noticed the oddest thing.”

“Apart from the sheer number of Grand Hotels?” Val grinned.

Derek ignored him. “I have reread all of Lady Heloise’s letters to her cousin. They are quite interesting and full of the details of travel but...” He wasn’t sure how significant it was but it was certainly of interest. “Everything she writes, every description, every detail is taken practically word for word from one of the Baedeker guidebooks.”

“So, one could have stayed in the comfort of one’s own home and written the letters?” Mother asked. “What an intriguing idea.”

“Except for the postmarks, of course. And the fact that Lady Heloise has long wanted to travel and was extremely excited about finally doing so. But one would think she would have used her own words, her own way of relating what she was seeing. As she is something of an artist, I would think her observations would be a bit more descriptive, more colorful, if you will, than what I’ve read in her notes. Still...”

“Still, one does have to wonder if she was ever in Paris at all. Or France, either, for that matter.” Val raised his glass. “The plot thickens, as they say.”

“Indeed, it does,” Mother murmured. “Have you checked Galignani’s?”

“Galignani’s?” Derek shot his brother a questioning look.

Val shrugged. “It’s a bookshop.”

“Goodness, Percival,” Mother chastised. “It’s much more than that. Galignani’s publishes a paper—Galignani’s Messenger—that has daily lists of all the English and American visitors to Paris. It also publishes a weekly list of all English and American visitors to the other major cities of the continent.”

Derek stared. “So this paper would tell me when Lady Heloise arrived and—by extrapolation—when or if she left?”

Mother nodded. “Without question.”

Derek gritted his teeth and glared at his brother. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I didn’t think of it. Sorry.”

“I’ll stop at Galignani’s after I’m done with the detective tomorrow.” Derek nodded. “It would have been beneficial to have known this sooner.”

Val shrugged.

“And how do you plan to explain your absence to the always suspicious Miss Prendergast?” Val smiled in a smug manner. “It’s obvious she doesn’t trust you.” He paused. “But I think she likes you.”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Derek heaved a frustrated sigh. Although she did say she was beginning to like him. Not enough to marry him of course—not that he had asked. “I daresay she’ll be grateful for a morning apart. Our day together did not go well.”

“Because she won’t marry you.” Sympathy sounded in Mother’s voice.

“I never asked!”

“Well, now you know the answer should you ever decide to ask.” Val sipped his whisky. “I’d say that’s most convenient. Saves you a great deal of trouble.”

“I have no intention of asking India Prendergast to marry me,” he said in a hard tone, wondering why his words didn’t ring entirely true.

“Regardless, I wish to meet her.” Mother studied her younger son thoughtfully. “I don’t believe I have ever heard you proclaim with such vehemence that a woman was driving you mad before.”

“I daresay, I’ve said that about any number of women.”

Mother smiled in an altogether too-knowing manner.

Derek groaned to himself. The last thing he wanted—the last thing he needed—was his mother’s interference. Whatever he felt about India, whatever this was between them, his mother had no place in it. Not that a simple fact like that would stop her.

“Percival.” Mother directed her attention to Val, and Derek breathed a sigh of relief. “We do need to discuss the arrangements for the ball. I shall confer with the cook and the rest of the staff tomorrow, although I am certain all is in order.”

Val shrugged. “One can only hope.”

“One can do more than merely hope,” she said in a no-nonsense manner and rose to her feet. “Travel is always so tiring. I believe I shall retire to my rooms before tea. Percival, please tell the butler I expect tea to be served promptly at half-past four, here in the parlor.” She paused. “No, I’d rather have tea in my rooms, I think. I believe I would prefer privacy. And would you please inform Miss Prendergast I would be honored if she would join me.”

“Why?” Derek said without thinking. Any brief sense of relief was dashed aside and replaced by a large, heavy weight in his stomach.

“Why? Come now, dear. Why wouldn’t I want to meet the woman who does not wish to marry my son?”

“Why indeed,” Val added. Derek considered the possibility of thrashing him when the opportunity arose.

He forced a weak smile. “Of course.”

“I am quite looking forward to it.” That predatory light was back in her eyes. “I suspect we have a great deal to talk about.”

Precisely what Derek feared.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Regardless of where wanderlust leads a lady traveler one should not discount the pleasure to be found in acquiring native goods as souvenirs of travel as well as gifts for those left behind. They are usually quite reasonably priced.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

“SO, MISS PRENDERGAST.” Lady Westvale set down her cup, folded her hands in her lap and smiled pleasantly. “Do tell me why you won’t marry my son.”

India choked on the bite of biscuit in her mouth, a bite that had been quite tasty a moment ago and now was reminiscent of sawdust. She covered her mouth with her hand. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh dear.” Her ladyship refilled India’s cup. “I’ve startled you, haven’t I? A bit more tea perhaps?”

“Thank you,” India gasped out the words and accepted the cup.

“Tea is often helpful when one has choked on something, oh, unexpected.”

India sipped the tea and struggled to regain her composure.

It wasn’t easy. She’d been more than a little apprehensive ever since she’d received the invitation—although summons was more accurate—to join Derek’s mother, the Marchioness of Westvale, in her rooms for tea. The suite of rooms Lord and Lady Westvale occupied was even larger than Derek’s and decorated in a manner less feminine than India’s but quite lovely, with darker carved wood furnishings and light, pastel fabrics. If one had to imagine the sort of rooms suitable for a marquess and his wife, this suite would not be far off.

No one had mentioned the marquess and marchioness were expected, and India suspected his mother’s appearance was a surprise to Derek, as well. Surely he would have said something otherwise. Prepared India in some manner. Not that her preparation was necessary. In spite of everything that had passed between them, she was nothing more than his friend. Nor would she ever be.

Within minutes the marchioness had alleviated India’s misgivings. She was surprisingly friendly, engaging and quite lovely. Somewhere past her fiftieth year India surmised—a guess based more on Derek’s age than his mother’s appearance—she was no taller than India, with pale blond hair and eyes the same shape and color as her son’s. India found herself enjoying their light conversation about Paris and the challenges of travel.

Most of the comments had come from Derek’s mother, who appeared to be doing her best to put India at ease. And indeed, her efforts had worked. Until now. India hadn’t expected to have to explain her reasoning again today and definitely not to Derek’s mother.

“Is that better?” Lady Westvale asked.

India nodded. “Much.”

“Good, then we can continue.” Lady Westvale studied her curiously. “Now then, Miss Prendergast.” Lady Westvale paused. “May I call you India? Lovely name. So wonderfully exotic.”

“Thank you.” India smiled weakly. “Yes, of course.”

“Excellent. As I was saying, most women fall all over themselves at the prospect of marriage to Derek. I am curious as to why you do not.”

“Well...” India chose her words with care. “It seems to me, as Derek has not asked me to marry him, my reasons for believing such a match is impossible are irrelevant.”

“But interesting nonetheless.”

“I doubt that.”

“Come now, India, let’s not be sly with one another.” The marchioness’s blue eyes—her son’s eyes—narrowed slightly. “You would not be the first woman to realize men usually want exactly what they can’t have. If this is how you intend to entrap my son into marriage, I assure you, he is not as gullible as he appears.”

India sucked in a short breath. “And I assure you, I am doing no such thing! I consider Derek nothing more than a friend. And, as his friend, I am trying to help him in his efforts of reformation.”

“Reformation?”

India said the first thing that popped into her head. “Live up to his father’s memory, that sort of thing.”

“His father’s memory?” the marchioness said slowly.

“Well, yes.” It wasn’t entirely true but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. But India was not about to tell a marchioness her son had been engaged in duping unsuspecting women out of their money. Nor was she going to allow the woman to think she had designs on her son. She stiffened her spine. “Your suspicions as to my true intent could not be more inaccurate.”

“Are they?”

“They are indeed. I am well aware that I am not the type of woman Derek is expected to marry.”

“How very interesting,” Lady Westvale murmured. “Why not?”

“Why not?” India stared at the other woman, but she seemed genuinely interested in the answer. “My family, while respectable, is not noteworthy in society or otherwise. I have no fortune to speak of. I am of ordinary appearance. Furthermore, I am gainfully employed in a position other than that of a governess or teacher or companion. Even you must admit that alone is unusual enough to throw doubt upon my suitability as a potential match for Derek.” She huffed. “Why am I the only one who seems to understand this?”

“I found it most understandable.” The marchioness paused. “Who doesn’t?”

“Your sons don’t. Neither Derek nor Lord Brookings.”

“They are good boys.” Lady Westvale beamed with pride.

“Good boys?” India stared. She knew she should hold her tongue, but that was one of the most ludicrous statements she’d ever heard. “Forgive me for saying it, Lady Westvale, but Derek has a notorious reputation—”

His mother scoffed. “Foolish nonsense for the most part.”

“And his lordship apparently has a reputation every bit as disgraceful. One that he is so pleased with, he is actually indignant when no one knows of it.”

“I find that charming, don’t you?”

“I do not.”

Her ladyship frowned. “That’s rather stuffy of you.”

“I daresay—”

“Might I point out to you—”

“Lady Westvale—”

“You had your turn, dear, now it’s mine,” the older woman said firmly. “I am well aware of the reputations of both my sons. However, to the best of my knowledge, neither Derek nor Percival has ever knowingly hurt anyone. I daresay there are any number of so-called respectable people in the world who cannot say the same.” She pinned India with a hard look. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

The marchioness nodded. “Nor has either of them ever involved an, oh, innocent in any sort of misadventure. They have never ruined a young woman’s reputation. The incidents they are credited with—”

“Charged with.”

“Interpretation, India. Eye of the beholder and all that.” Lady Westvale waved off the comment. “Regardless, the mistakes they have made have never been truly wicked but rather...naughty. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I understand that you’re their mother,” India said slowly. “And, as such, I would expect you to defend them.”

“You’re right, of course. I will always defend my sons. And while they may well have done any number of things that society looks askance at, they are good men with good hearts.” She pressed her lips together in a hard smile. “And I am proud of them.”

Would she be proud of Derek if she knew about his connection to the Lady Travelers Society? It scarcely mattered; that would soon be at an end. In spite of their altercation, she was confident he would indeed do what was right.

“Now then, I understand your luggage went astray.”

“Unfortunately.” India nodded, relieved at the abrupt change of subject. “It’s one of the reasons why we are forced to linger in Paris. Although admittedly, we still have not made inquiries at any number of places my cousin might have been.”

“There are few better cities in the world to linger in than Paris.” The marchioness selected one of the almond biscuits India had become quite fond of, took a bite, then considered India thoughtfully. “Are you aware that we are hosting a ball here in a few days?”

A ball? India’s mouth was abruptly dry, and she shook her head. “No one has said anything to me.” But then why would they? She was a guest in the house but not the type one would invite to a ball. “I can arrange to remain in my room while it’s under way.”

Lady Westvale stared. “Why?” Realization dawned on her face. “Oh, I see.” She nodded in sympathy. “We shall have to do something about that.”

“About what?”

“Your clothes, of course.” She considered the pale blue India had chosen for tea and winced. “I understand your chaperone loaned you some attire.”

Of the two day dresses, one dinner ensemble and a gown for evening wear Estelle had loaned her, this one had seemed the least objectionable of the lot. Apparently, not in the countess’s eyes. “Mrs. Greer has been quite kind.”

“Yes, well kindness is one thing—taste is something else again. I dare not ask what kind of evening gown she might have provided.”

“It’s...sufficient.” India wrinkled her nose. It was the worst sort of betrayal of Estelle’s kindness but the gown—somewhere between a brilliant pink and pale scarlet in color—with flounces and ruffles and flowers fashioned from silk, was perhaps the fussiest thing India had ever encountered. Worse, even with Suzette’s expert alterations, it made her look like a stuffed sausage. “I really didn’t anticipate having to wear it.”

“Nor should you.” The marchioness nodded firmly. “This is Paris, home to the finest dressmakers in the world and it would be wrong not to avail ourselves of their services. You and I shall make a day of it tomorrow. We will go to some of my favorite places and have you suitably attired in no time.”

“I do appreciate the offer, Lady Westvale, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.” She drew a deep breath. “I don’t have any money. I’ve lost it.”

“Lost it?” The marchioness cast her a sympathetic look. “Gambling?”

“No.”

She winced. “Blackmail then?”

India bit back a gasp. “Most certainly not.”

“Dear Lord.” Lady Westvale stared. “You haven’t given it to a dashing scoundrel who promises to pay it back when he inherits but then vanishes never to be seen again?”

India’s eyes widened. “I have managed to avoid that.”

“Good. There are few things more foolish than that.” Lady Westvale breathed a sigh of relief. “But I can’t think of any other way you might have lost your money.”

“You don’t understand. I actually lost it. Misplaced it, if you will. I don’t know where it is.” Regardless of how many times India admitted her error in judgment, it continued to sound stupid. “I hid it in my trunk.”

“The missing trunk?”

India nodded.

“Apparently there is something more foolish than being taken in by a handsome stranger.”

“Yes, well so it seems,” India admitted.

“Percival said you were efficient.” The marchioness considered her. “This does not sound the least bit efficient to me.”

“It seemed a good idea at the time,” India said weakly.

“Goodness, my dear.” Lady Westvale shook her head. “When traveling, you should always hide your funds in your boot. Or in a special pocket affixed to your underpinnings. Or, better yet, travel with a gentleman whose job it is to keep track of necessities like money.”

“I shall remember that.”

“See that you do.” She nodded firmly. “Put it in your trunk, indeed.”

India winced.

“However, you misunderstood. I was not suggesting you purchase a new wardrobe.” The marchioness favored her with a brilliant smile. “I intend to purchase one for you.”

India choked again. “But why?”

“You do need to stop doing that, dear. It’s unbecoming and possibly hazardous.” She lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “I was once at a dinner party when a somewhat portly gentleman choked on a bit of roasted quail. Why, he turned all sorts of dreadful colors before the stout woman seated next to him thumped him quite vigorously on the back. Which sent the quail flying across the table, much to the dismay of the person sitting opposite him.” She paused. “Although, if I recall correctly, the gentleman became quite enamored of the lady who had so thoughtfully struck him. One thing led to another, and they were quite happily wed shortly thereafter. Indeed, they delight in telling the story of how they became acquainted when she saved him from imminent death.”

“How...fortuitous?”

“It was that. However—” she gestured in an absent manner “—I have strayed from the matter at hand, which is your need for suitable clothing and my determination to purchase it for you.”

“And I don’t understand why you wish to do so.” India couldn’t quite hide the stubborn note in her voice.

“Any number of reasons. First of all—” she ticked the points off on her fingers “—you don’t wish to marry my son. Regardless of the questionable soundness of your reasoning, you do impress me as being honest. And I am an excellent judge of character. That wasn’t always true but one of the few benefits of growing older is that you do learn a few things along the way. And honesty, my dear, should always be rewarded.”

“Thank you,” India murmured.

“Secondly, one could say that my dear Aunt Guinevere is responsible for your search for the missing Lady Heloise in the first place. Which means it’s her fault your clothes—and your money—are missing. You deserve compensation for that.”

“Still—”

“Furthermore, my husband has a substantial fortune. Even more than I can ever possibly spend, although I do consider it my purpose in life to do my best.” She flashed India a satisfied grin. “Providing you with a new wardrobe is barely worth noting.”

“And it is most generous of you but—”

“And—” she pinned India with a no-nonsense look “—we are having a ball here in five days. As a guest in this house, your appearance will reflect on your hosts. Make no mistake, India, you are expected to attend. Percival and I would be deeply offended and highly insulted if you do not. We would consider it extremely rude. And you do strike me as the type of woman who would not wish to be impolite.”

“No of course not. But...I’ve never been to a ball,” India blurted.

Lady Westvale’s eyes widened. “Never?”

India shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

“But you do know how to dance?” the marchioness asked cautiously, as if she was afraid of the answer.

“They did teach us at Miss Bicklesham’s.”

“Miss Bicklesham’s Academy for Accomplished Young Ladies?”

India nodded.

“Excellent institution.” She frowned. “But you do not strike me as a typical Miss Bicklesham’s graduate.”

India raised her chin. “Thank you.”

Lady Westvale laughed. “That’s one less thing to worry about. Now then, as for your new clothes, we should make a list of what is absolutely necessary, what would be wise to acquire and what is simply for fun.”

“Lady Westvale.” India drew a deep breath. “I do appreciate your kind offer but I cannot allow you to purchase clothing for me. I would feel obligated to reimburse you, and I’m afraid I will never be able to do so.”

“My dear young woman, I’m afraid you don’t understand. Allow me to explain.” Lady Westvale thought for a moment. “My mother died when I was quite young, my stepsisters were never especially fond of me, and, as my father was always notoriously short on funds, I did not have a season. It was not until I married that I had the financial resources to indulge in things like fine dresses and exquisite shoes and elaborate hats. I quite enjoy shopping now that I have the means to do so. It is a great deal of fun. Indeed, I consider it something of an art, and I am very good at it.

“However, I have two sons and, as much as I love them dearly, I have long regretted not having had a daughter. There is nothing to be done about it now, of course, but there you have it.” She smiled wistfully. “I have always been most envious of those friends of mine who have had the pleasure of shopping for or with a daughter. I would consider it a very great favor if you would allow me to do so with you. And I do promise not to be too extravagant.”

“I see.” India didn’t know what to say. On one hand, clothes had never been important to her before. On the other, Paris—or something—had changed her. She’d begun to wonder if perhaps being sensible and practical and efficient didn’t have to mean she always needed to look sensible and practical and efficient.

“You may give my proposal due consideration of course but I will warn you, I will not accept any answer other than yes.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “We shall start visiting my favorite dressmakers first thing in the morning.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” India said, ignoring an unexpected stab of regret. “Derek and I need to continue to look for my cousin.”

“Derek is well capable of continuing the search on his own for a day or two,” Lady Westvale said firmly, then sipped her tea. “And it will do you good, as well, to think about something other than the missing Lady Heloise. I can’t imagine this has been easy for you.”

“I am worried. She is my only family, and I do miss her but...” India wasn’t sure why she was saying this, but Lady Westvale wasn’t nearly as intimidating as India had initially feared. She was really rather nice. “It has come to my attention that there may well be things about Heloise I didn’t know. Things I paid no attention to or things she didn’t wish me to know. It’s been something of a revelation, and I’m not sure how I feel about it all.”

“I understand completely.” The marchioness nodded in sympathy. “I doubt that anyone truly knows another person as well as we might think we do.”

“Probably not.”

“Furthermore, things don’t always turn out as we expect them to.”

“I never expected to be in Paris.”

“I would imagine you never expected to be friends with my son, either. You did say you consider yourself his friend?”

India nodded. “I do.”

“How very interesting,” she said thoughtfully. “That you are willing to be his friend, that is. When you’re not willing to consider marriage to him.”

“I thought you understood.” Why would no one leave this alone? India braced herself. “I’m not suitable for marriage to him, and under no stretch of the imagination would I be considered appropriate to be a countess.”

“I do apologize.” Lady Westvale shook her head in a mournful manner. “I had no idea you had, well, a criminal propensity.”

India could barely get out the words. “I most certainly do not! I have never broken any sort of law.”

“Your family then.” Lady Westvale broke off a piece of biscuit and popped it in her mouth.

“My family is most respectable.” Indignation raised India’s voice. “My parents were missionaries, and my cousin is the daughter of the previous Earl of Crenfield.”

“Good, decent people?”

“Without question!”

“Respectable, law-abiding and good is all anyone can ever ask, dear.” She paused. “Then, correct me if I’m wrong, but your only real objection to a match between you and my son is that such a match would not be correct as society sees such things?”

“Yes.” India nodded. “I am not a silly, foolish creature—” in spite of the evidence of her missing funds “—who believes in romantic nonsense. I understand the manner in which the world works.”

“I’ve never been overly fond of the way the world works. I think it’s frequently cruel and often absurd. Tell me, India, do you like Derek?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He’s quite nice.” She considered the question. “I didn’t think so at first, or perhaps I simply didn’t expect it, but I think so now. He’s very thoughtful of others and treats people with kindness. He helped the professor when he was under no obligation to do so. He’s quite clever. That, too, I did not expect, and saved me from an awkward situation.” At the risk of his own safety. “He has insisted on showing me the sights of Paris in spite of my reluctance. And I must admit, I am enjoying it.” And enjoying as well being with him. “He seems to make people feel, I don’t know, special perhaps. He is respectful toward the professor, engaging him in all sorts of academic discussions. Why, you can see the man practically preen under Derek’s attention. And he flirts outrageously with Mrs. Greer, which I found quite distasteful in the beginning, but she adores it. I’m not sure why, but it’s obvious that she does.

“He’s more, I don’t know, observant I think is the right word, than I anticipated. He sees things about me, notices things, that no one has ever seen or noticed before.” It was really rather remarkable now that she put it into words. “Not all of them nice, mind you, but all of them startlingly perceptive. Aside from a few instances, he’s quite candid. I’m not certain that I trust him, at least I didn’t in the beginning, but now...” she said more to herself than to the marchioness.

Now what?

Did she indeed at last trust him? She did have faith in him, confident that he would do what was right. Didn’t faith and trust go hand in hand?

Her breath caught at the revelation. Hadn’t she told him just this afternoon that she still didn’t trust him? Was that something she’d said because she was supposed to say it? Because she never expected to feel differently? But, if he was indeed a good man, a decent man, a man willing to reform, a man who was everything she’d just told his mother he was, why wouldn’t she trust him?

“Now?” Lady Westvale prompted.

“Now I...I like him.” Perhaps she more than liked him.

“I see.”

India shrugged helplessly.

“My, this is interesting,” the marchioness murmured, then drew a deep breath. “You should know something about my son, India. Derek has been in love any number of times that I know of and I suspect several more that I don’t. In each and every instance, the lady was eminently suitable to be the next Countess of Danby. They were all exactly the type of woman you say he is expected to marry. And yet, not one of those instances led to marriage or even an engagement.”

India couldn’t help herself. “Why not?”

“Because, even though they were right in terms of money and position and everything else you—and society for that matter—seem to think is appropriate, they were not right for him.”

“That is...interesting.”

“My dear India. One of the nicest things about having a title and money—especially money—is that you can do very much as you wish and people forgive you for it. I never once married for position or financial considerations. Derek’s father was a second son with no prospects whatsoever. My second husband, Percival’s father, was a marquess with a sizable fortune but not when I married him. He was not poor, of course—I long ago realized true poverty would not suit me, but I had no idea he was heir to a cousin’s title and wealth. And my husband now, my dearest Stephen, has both money and title—another marquess, which was ever so convenient—and did so when I married him, but I would have married him if he’d had nothing at all.” She smiled in a knowing manner. “Money and position, my dear, are not as difficult to find as a good man. Particularly one who claims your heart. I have been extraordinarily lucky. Love, in this world, is remarkably hard to find. I have been well loved by three wonderful men and I have loved them in return.”

She paused thoughtfully. “If I had known I would lose Henry, Derek’s father, as soon as I did, I would have cherished every moment. I feel the same about Percival’s father, Arthur. But one never knows what one has until it’s gone.” Resolve sounded in her voice. “I will not make the same mistake with Stephen. I make certain he knows, every single day, in words and deed, how much I care for him.”

India smiled. “That’s quite lovely.”

“Yes, well, as I said one hopefully learns something as one travels the path of life,” she said in a brusque manner as if she had said more than she had intended. “I’m not sure why I have told you all this except that I suppose I wanted you to know that the example I set for my sons is not one of concern for the matters that society deems important. Both Derek and Percival intend to marry for love, which is probably why they have not wed.” She sighed. “That’s a problem I have yet to solve. I simply want them to be happy, and the right woman will do that for them. I know the right man did that for me. All three of them.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“I THINK YOU should tell her everything.”

Derek stopped in midpace and stared at his brother. “Do you really?”

“Well, your other alternative is to tell her absolutely nothing. I’m not sure one option is particularly better than the other.” Val shrugged. “But apparently your Miss Prendergast is especially fond of novels of detection. She might well appreciate the twists and turns the search for her cousin has taken.”

“Do you realize when you sit behind your grandfather’s desk in this imposing library, you look like you actually know what you’re saying.”

“I do know that.” Val planted his palms flat on the desk in an all-encompassing gesture, looking not unlike a king surveying his domain. “It’s why I sit here. I am wise beyond my years, brother.”

“In your eyes only.”

“Come now, I have just given you excellent advice. It’s not my fault that you refuse to take it.”

“You’ve just explained my choices. Choices I am already well aware of. You’ve given me no advice whatsoever.”

“Again.” Val smirked. “Beyond my years.”

“Good Lord,” Derek muttered and resumed pacing.

At least he didn’t need to make a decision at the moment. India and his mother were now in their third day of laying siege to the dress shops of Paris. He’d barely seen her at all, except in passing, since their kiss and subsequent argument. But then he’d been avoiding dinner, and, according to Estelle, so had India. Which was probably for the best.

“As much as I love Mother, as much as I am grateful she is keeping India occupied, the idea of the two of them spending so much time together strikes fear into my heart. They’ve forged some sort of unholy alliance. That union cannot possibly bode well.” He paused and looked at his brother. “What do you think they talk about?”

“Oh, Mother probably goes on about the newest fashions and latest style and what color is de rigueur this season. And your Miss Prendergast undoubtedly loses no opportunity to point out what miscreants Mother’s sons are.”

“That sounds right.” Derek sighed and continued to pace.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. It was a mistake. Oh, not kissing her exactly but kissing her then and there, although he had apologized even if she did kiss him first. And while not his finest moment, there had been the loveliest sense of promise in her kiss.

She’d been so delightfully tempting with those green eyes and perfect posture and ever-so-earnest manner. He wasn’t sure when she’d stopped being annoying and had become irresistible. Although she did continue to be fairly annoying, which oddly enough simply added to her appeal. Nor was he sure which one of them was responsible for that debacle on top of the world—probably both. But he had been truly wounded that even now, after spending so much time together, after he had told her things he’d never told anyone, she still did not trust him. Bloody hell, he was putting up with her campaign to convince him to give up his wicked ways! What more could a man do for a woman?

“I think what you need is practice.”

“Practice?” Derek rolled his gaze at the ceiling. “And what, pray tell, do you think I need to practice?”

“Perhaps practice is not as good a word as, oh, rehearsal.”

“Rehearsal?” Derek raised a brow. “Like a stage play?”

“Exactly.” Val leaned back in his chair. “I shall play the role of Miss Prendergast and you shall be you.”

“This is absurd,” Derek said and plopped into a chair.

“I prefer to think of it as brilliant.”

Derek snorted.

“Now then, Mr. Saunders,” Val adopted an overly high falsetto and sat up rigidly straight in his chair. “You scandalous beast of a scoundrel you, tell me what you learned from the detective.”

“She doesn’t sound like that.” Derek bit back a grin.

“Oh come now, you naughty, naughty boy, I sound exactly like this.” Val wagged his finger. “Now, you wicked man, answer my question.”

“Very well.” He thought for a moment. “The detective—”

“What detective?”

“The one hired by my uncle.” Derek had met with him two days ago, seen him yesterday and then again today.

Val gasped in an exaggerated manner. “Your uncle hired detectives?”

Derek nodded. “He wished to help.”

“What a brilliant idea.” Val narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me, you rogue, you?”

“I...” Why didn’t he tell her? Because even at the beginning he’d wanted to prove something to her? Or to himself? “I don’t know,” he said sharply. “Go on.”

“You haven’t answered my question, you wayward reprobate.” Val heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “What did the detective tell you?”

“His investigation showed Lady Heloise never arrived in Paris.” A fact Derek had confirmed for himself by checking the lists of visitors kept at Galignani’s. “Nor was she apparently ever in France at all.”

“Not in France!” Val clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Goodness, how can you say such a thing, you vile creature! I received letters from her from Le Havre and Rouen and Trouville as well as Paris.”

“Letters that were all taken word for word from guidebooks.”

“Poor, dear Heloise has never been very original.” Val heaved another heartfelt sigh.

“You do realize you sound ridiculous.”

“No more ridiculous than I feel.” Val fluttered his lashes. “Do go on, you villainous cad.”

“The letters were indeed written by your cousin but...” This was where the whole thing became rather messy.

“Yes?” Val’s falsetto was even higher if possible.

“But she did not mail them.” Derek paused. “Mademoiselle Marquette, her maid, mailed them for her.”

Derek had spent much of the day accompanying Uncle Edward’s detective to and from the picturesque village of Chantilly, northeast of Paris, an hour or so away by train. According to the investigator, this was the home of Mademoiselle Marquette’s family. It wasn’t at all hard to find the woman, but it took much prodding, appeals to her better nature and threatening to involve the authorities to get the truth from her.

She admitted Lady Heloise had entrusted her to post letters destined for India from various locations in France, including Paris. Mademoiselle Marquette was further expected to continue on to travel throughout Switzerland, Italy, Greece and a number of other places for a full six months, funding for said travel provided by Lady Heloise. The woman was charged with sending the letters Lady Heloise had written back to India from the places she visited. It was an interesting scheme and would have progressed exactly as planned had not Mademoiselle Marquette decided to pay a visit to her home. She was then so overcome with missing her family, she decided it would do no harm to stay for a while. Apparently, it had taken her several weeks to come to the realization that now that she had returned to the bosom of her family she did not wish to leave, and her obligation to mail Lady Heloise’s letters paled in comparison to her own desires.

Mademoiselle Marquette declared she had sent all the remaining letters back to Lady Heloise in recent days as well as arranged to return the funds she’d been given for travel, minus a bit for her troubles, which she insisted she deserved. While her loyalty to her employer did not extend to continuing her ruse, it apparently did apply to revealing why Lady Heloise had initiated this scheme in the first place and where she was currently. The maid assured Derek Lady Heloise was safe and well but adamantly refused to reveal the lady’s present location. She did, however, imply Lady Heloise had never left England. Uncle Edward’s detective was confident, with this information, she would soon be found.

Upon their return to Paris, Derek sent a telegram to his uncle, asking to be informed the moment the older lady was located.

“Oh, my goodness.” Val rested a limp wrist against his forehead. “Why would she do such a thing? And where is she now?”

“I don’t know.” Derek blew a frustrated breath. “I don’t have the answer to any of that.”

“And that may well be your biggest quandary at the moment,” Val said, resuming his usual voice.

“I have already realized that, but thank you for pointing it out.”

“I believe my initial advice is still the best course. Tell her everything. At the very least it will prove to her this is not the fault of the Lady Travelers Society, and by association, Lady Blodgett’s or yours. As much as it will disappoint her to know she was wrong about you—that you have not been defrauding helpless women out of their savings.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth it.” Derek had been wrestling with this ever since he’d learned the truth.

“Why? Because then she will no longer need to reform you?” Val’s eyes narrowed in a speculative manner. “Or because then she can return to England, and your continuing association will be at an end?”

“Actually,” Derek said slowly, “I hadn’t considered any of that, but I suppose it is worth noting.”

“As you’ve become quite fond of her.” Val paused. “No, that’s not entirely accurate. I’ve become quite fond of her, oddly enough. You like her.”

“She’s easy to like.”

“No, she’s not.” Val snorted. “Although I will say she seems to have loosened, if you will, during her stay here. She is not stretched as taut as she first was.”

“I believe her stay in Paris has been something of a revelation for her.”

“Paris will do that.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps it’s your influence.”

“Possible, I suppose. We are entirely different creatures.” And yet he was hard-pressed to imagine his life continuing without her.

“You’re afraid you’ll lose her if you tell her about her cousin, aren’t you?”

“That’s shockingly perceptive of you.”

“It’s the desk.” Val grinned, then sobered. “I’ve never known you to be a coward.”

“I’ve never had so much at stake before.”

Val stared. “I’m right then. You do have feelings for her.”

“So it would appear.” He shrugged in a helpless manner. “I want to protect her, Val, and I’m not sure I can. Not from this.”

“Regardless, if you care for her, it’s even more important that you tell her what you’ve discovered. If you don’t, it will be that much worse when she finds out.”

“Worse?” Derek said sharply. “How could it possibly be worse than discovering her only family, the woman who has been as much a mother to her as a cousin, the woman who gave her a home when she needed one, has concocted an elaborate scheme to deceive her?”

“Because as hard as that will be for her to learn—” Val met his brother’s gaze “—she will never forgive you for knowing and not telling her.”

For a long moment the brothers stared in silence.

“You’re right. I hate to say it, but you’re right. However...” Derek thought for a moment. “I believe it’s best not to tell her any of this until I know where Lady Heloise is. Right now, regardless of how much we’ve learned, there are still more questions than answers. For her to know Lady Heloise concocted all this but not to know where she is will only increase India’s concern. She’s likely to think all sorts of dire things.”

“Admittedly, it might be wiser to wait.” Val grimaced. “Or it could be an unforgivable mistake. I still think you need to tell her everything you’ve found thus far.”

“If you were in my shoes, would you?”

“It’s the wisest course but...” Val shook his head. “I don’t know. I am eternally grateful I am not in your shoes.”

“The ball is the day after tomorrow,” Derek said. “Mother says India has never been to a ball.”

Val’s brow rose. “What, never?”

“Apparently not. I would hate to ruin it for her. And by then we might have Lady Heloise’s location, as well.” He drew a deep breath. “But regardless, I’ll tell her after the ball.”

Val drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the desk. “What kind of woman has never been to a ball?”

“The kind who never had a season, who never came out in society. The kind who feels it’s her responsibility to earn her own way, who believes things like balls and social events to be frivolous and silly.” Derek’s jaw tightened. “The kind who believes the woman who raised her has a limited income.”

“Lady Heloise?”

Derek nodded. “According to my information, she has a substantial fortune that India is unaware of.”

Val stared at his brother. “Lady Heloise appears to have a lot of secrets.”

“And I am not going to be the one to reveal those secrets.” Learning Lady Heloise not only deceived her about her alleged travels but that she had lied to India her entire life might well devastate her. India did not trust easily, and Derek did not want to be the one to shatter the trust she had in her guardian. “But I’m afraid you’re right. If she learns any of this and then finds out I knew and didn’t tell her...”

“Nasty bit of business, Derek.” Sympathy shone in Val’s eyes. “She may never forgive you if you tell her—blame the messenger and all. And she may never forgive you if you don’t.”

* * *

ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH. In spite of the sense of looming disaster, Derek joined the rest of the house for dinner. India made an appearance, as well, and he could not help but wonder—or perhaps hope—that she missed him as much as he missed her. Still, she made no effort to speak with him privately nor did he. Apparently he truly was a coward when it came to her.

Dinner had the feel of a party to it. Mother played her accustomed role of perfect hostess to the hilt, encouraging and directing conversation around the table. Much of the talk had to do with preparations for the upcoming ball, and Mother made certain the Greers and India understood how delighted she was that they would be in attendance. Derek wasn’t sure if that was as much for the older couple’s benefit as for India’s. And when his mother wasn’t steering the discussion, his stepfather was. Westvale had a heretofore unknown interest in medieval architecture and had apparently read one of the professor’s books. His stepfather also had the unexpected ability to make such an obscure topic interesting for those who were not as well versed in it as Professor Greer. Val took it upon himself to flirt enthusiastically with Estelle and attempted to do so with India, as well. Estelle delighted in his attention, and even India seemed amused. In spite of his best intentions, Derek spent most of the meal studying her.

India was still wearing one of the dresses Estelle had loaned her—Mother had mentioned India’s new clothes were to be delivered in the next few days, thanks to her influence and the added incentive of his stepfather’s fortune. Derek realized his brother was right about India. She was more at ease than she had been when they’d first started out on the quest to find Lady Heloise. Would that vanish when she knew the truth? He still had two more days until he would be forced to find out.

Through the course of the meal, every now and then when Derek’s gaze returned to India, she would be watching him. Her expression gave no indication of what she was thinking but her gaze would meet his with a sort of bemused acknowledgment. And what was surely a promise, although admittedly that might have only been in his head.

If this was the woman he wanted, and with every passing day, any doubt about that faded, then he needed to do something. Something romantic and irresistible. And he needed to do it before he told her about her cousin. If he didn’t want to lose her, in the next two days, he would have to win her heart. And offer her his. A grand romantic gesture was obviously called for.

By the time dinner had ended Derek had acknowledged what he had already suspected. For good or ill, he had fallen in love with the indomitable Miss India Prendergast.

And he had the power to ruin her life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

This guide would be remiss if it failed to mention the necessary yet distasteful topic of money. As there is no certain method to safeguard one’s traveling funds against thieves, highwaymen, gypsies, scoundrels and one’s own incompetence, we shall not attempt to provide one. Our apologies.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

“GOOD DAY, INDIA,” Derek said, stepping out from behind the grouping of potted palms that flanked each side of the closed ballroom doors.

“Derek!” India pulled up short, her breath caught in her throat. “I didn’t see you.”

“I was trying to find a button that popped off my coat and rolled away under the foliage.” He chuckled. “Although I suppose I could have been hiding.”

She raised a brow. “From me?”

“I would hate to scare you away.”

“Nonsense. I see nothing to be scared about. Not really.” Although she had been something of a coward. She needed to apologize and perhaps confess or whatever else might be necessary to set things right with Derek. Last night was the first time she’d seen him for more than a moment since their altercation at the Eiffel Tower. Thanks to Lady Westvale, India had had barely any time in the last few days to dwell on what had passed between them. Still, their quarrel, as well as the kisses they’d shared, refused to be banished from her mind, especially late at night when sleep eluded her. And when she did sleep, her slumber was filled with dreams of flying like a bird over the city of Paris, or the feel of his lips pressing against hers and the distinct longing for more, or the hurt in his blue eyes.

She never should have told him she didn’t trust him. Her heart twisted every time she remembered the look on his face. If she believed in him—and she did—surely she trusted him, as well. Pity, she hadn’t realized that sooner. At least she now knew she was wrong. Now she wondered what else she was wrong about. “Although I suspect matters like this are always difficult.”

“Matters like this?”

“I have been the worst sort of coward, Derek.” She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze firmly, ignoring the way her heart beat faster in her chest. “It has always been difficult for me to admit when I’m wrong—”

“As you are never wrong.”

“Apparently, in that, too, I’m wrong. It is something of a revelation.” She wasn’t exactly sure what to say next even though she’d rehearsed this over and over. “Paris seems to be fraught with all sorts of revelations for me.”

“Being in unfamiliar surroundings can have that effect on people.”

“Quite possible I suppose.”

“I must say you look lovely today.” His gaze skimmed over her in an approving manner. “This new way of wearing your hair is most becoming.”

“How kind of you to say.” Suzette continued to do her hair in a softer style that framed her face. India had to admit she rather liked it.

“Is that one of the new dresses?”

“It is.”

He grinned. “My mother has excellent taste.”

“And I am delighted to be the beneficiary of it.” India glanced down at the new dress and smiled with satisfaction. “It arrived this morning.”

She couldn’t remember ever having a dress that was as lovely as it was practical. The new day dress was a fetching salmon color, with a draped overskirt and a touch of lace at the neck, wrists and waist. It was far and away the frilliest thing she’d ever owned but not nearly as fussy as Estelle’s gowns. India still found it hard to believe, but Estelle was right. There was nothing like a new dress to make you feel, well, new. And not the least bit ordinary.

India had been assisting Lady Westvale with preparations for the ball all morning. Preparations that had come to an abrupt halt the moment several of India’s new dresses were delivered. Derek’s mother had insisted India try each one on before they did anything else. The older woman had been very much like a child with a new toy at Christmas. India wasn’t at all sure how she felt about being a new toy, but she’d been nearly as excited as her ladyship.

As much as she had tried to rein in Lady Westvale’s enthusiastic assault on the dressmakers of Paris, even India was no match for the older lady’s resolve. The more India had protested, the more determined Lady Westvale became until India finally realized the only way to curb the lady’s excesses was to capitulate. Still, the end result was four day dresses, three dresses suitable for evening, two dresses for traveling and a ball gown. None of which, her ladyship had insisted, would do by themselves, and the appropriate shoes, hats, gloves and everything else Lady Westvale deemed necessary was ordered or purchased. And all, India suspected, at exorbitant prices as Lady Westvale wanted everything as quickly as possible. India could never repay her, not merely for her expenditures but for her kindness.

“But I’m afraid your mother was entirely too generous. I can’t even imagine the total expenditure.” India shook her head. “I can never repay her.”

“Nor does she wish to be repaid,” Derek said firmly. “She has had a great deal of fun, and I am grateful to you for giving that to her. And grateful as well that you have kept her occupied.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “There is nothing more dangerous than my mother with time on her hands.”

“I can imagine,” India murmured.

The past three days with his mother had confirmed that India was right about the kind of man Derek truly was. Certainly one should take what a man’s mother said about him with a grain of salt, but Lady Westvale was far too clever to simply detail Derek’s good points. Instead she regaled India with stories about Derek and Lord Brookings’s boyhood. Stories about the time Derek had talked his brother into giving him his collection of foreign coins to add to his own savings so the boys could purchase a horse that was being mistreated. The horse had been old and had died some months later, but both boys learned that the reward of helping those who cannot help themselves was as much for those who give as those who receive. Or the time he had been forced against his will to ask a less-than-pretty wallflower to dance, only to discover she was quite nice and very sweet when one looked past her plain appearance. That, too, was a lesson that things aren’t always as they appear that Lady Westvale said her sons had never forgotten.

India wasn’t sure how it happened, but she found herself telling Derek’s mother things she had never told anyone. During one of her dress fittings, Lady Westvale was curious as to why India thought herself ordinary in appearance. Without thinking, India told her that during her school years, there was a young man who would come to escort his sister home for holidays. While India had thought it her secret, apparently some of the other girls noticed that India had a crush on the young gentleman, and she overheard them say the youthful Lord So-and-So would never give someone as ordinary as India Prendergast so much as a second look. Why, she’d be lucky ever to find a husband. Odd, that until Lady Westvale had asked, India would have said she didn’t remember the incident at all. The older lady had pointed out, whether India recognized it or not, she was no longer ordinary but rather striking in appearance with her green eyes and ripe figure and, of course, well-fitting, stylish clothing. Lady Westvale had also noted that, while she herself had been considered a beauty in her youth, when she was a young girl, she was more than a little plump. Some of us, she’d said to India, blossom at our own pace.

When they had stopped at a charming café—but then Lady Westvale had declared nearly all the cafés in Paris to be charming—for tea and she had again brought up her desire for her sons to find love, India had mentioned in an offhand manner that she was not especially enamored of love and considered romance a silly notion. She’d also confessed that her parents’ union had been considered a love match, a great romance that had ultimately led them to abandon home and family to wander the world together in search of adventure, in the guise of spreading the word of God. The older woman agreed that abandoning one’s responsibilities to a child was selfish and unforgivable but that could not be blamed on love. The fault she’d said, quoting Shakespeare—apparently it ran in the family—is not in our stars but in ourselves, and added that the very best thing about love was that it knows no bounds but is open and endless. Indeed, when one has opened one’s heart to one person it’s easy to love others, as well. Before India could respond, Lady Westvale had gone on to another topic, but her words lingered in India’s head.

“What were you wrong about this time, India?” Derek asked abruptly.

“You,” she said without thinking, then plunged ahead. “Or rather me. When I said I didn’t trust you—” she shook her head “—I shouldn’t have said it as it isn’t true.”

“It isn’t?” Caution sounded in his voice.

“I didn’t realize it at the time but...” She met his gaze directly. “If I believe that you, at heart, are a good, decent man, if I have faith that you can indeed reform, and be a better man, the man I think you want to be, then, whether I wish to acknowledge it or not, I do trust you.” She drew a steadying breath. “I am truly sorry that I did not say so when I should have.”

He stared at her. “I see.”

“And I am indeed a coward, not only because I refuse to face that I am—or have been of late—frequently wrong...” In for a penny, she supposed. She braced herself. “But because I like you, Derek Saunders. I like you a great deal, and I find it somewhat terrifying.”

“I—”

She held out her hand to stop him. “I didn’t expect to like you at all. Nor did I ever expect to trust you even the tiniest bit.” The words seemed to come of their own accord. “And I liked kissing you. But as much as I liked kissing you, I liked you kissing me more. While I would prefer to think that the enjoyment of it had more to do with who you were kissing than the fact that you no doubt have had a great deal of practice—”

“I can assure you—”

“I would not be averse to you kissing me again.” She raised her chin. “Frequently and with a great deal of enthusiasm.” She ignored the heat washing up her face. How could she have said that? What was she thinking?

“I see,” he said thoughtfully.

“Goodness, Derek.” She huffed. “You cannot continue to respond with ‘I see.’ That’s a most unsatisfactory answer. It says nothing at all. What exactly do you see?”

“I see that what you are trying to say is more or less in the way of an apology.”

“It is an apology, I thought that was apparent. And quite sincere, too, I might add.”

“As well as a confession.”

“Yes, well, perhaps,” she said weakly.

“There is no perhaps about it.” He stepped closer and stared down at her. “You said you liked kissing me, you liked my kissing you and you would not be disinclined to do so again. I’m fairly certain that’s a confession.”

“Very well then.” She raised a shoulder in a casual shrug. “It’s a confession.”

“I see.” He grinned. He was close enough to kiss her again if he was so inclined.

“And what do you see this time?” Her pulse pounded in her ears.

“I see a lovely woman who is clever and stubborn and perhaps the most annoying creature I have ever met.”

“Oh?”

“I have a confession to make, as well. I said kissing you was a mistake. The mistake was in the time and place.” He lowered his head, his lips close to hers. “Not in the kiss itself.”

“Then do you intend to kiss me again?” She held her breath.

“I do.”

“Now?” The word was little more than an odd sort of squeak.

“No.” He straightened.

Her heart plummeted. “I see.”

He laughed. “You’re right. ‘I see’ is not a good response.”

“Well, I don’t know how else to respond,” she said sharply, ignoring the overwhelming sense of disappointment and dismay that rushed through her. “I was quite clear about my feelings regarding our previous kissing and my willingness to do so again and you said—”

“Good God, India, shut up.” He pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss hard and fast and utterly intoxicating. Far too quickly he released her and shook his head. “You drive me stark, raving mad.”

“Do I?” She struggled to catch her breath. “Good.”

“Furthermore, the next time I kiss you—” his eyes narrowed “—and make no mistake, I fully intend to kiss you again, it will be at a place and time of my choosing. It will not be in a public place, it will not be for luck and it will not be simply to stop your incessant arguing!”

“Excellent.” She glared at him, but it was extraordinarily difficult to maintain her indignation when all she wanted to do was throw herself back into his arms. “I shall expect nothing less.”

“Then we are agreed!” He blew a long breath. “You are unlike any woman I have ever met, India Prendergast. You are the most confusing, annoying—”

“You’ve already mentioned annoying.”

“It bears repeating.” He shook his head. “Nonetheless, I can think of nothing but you.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then cast him a brilliant smile. “How truly delightful.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“You should know I find you extremely annoying, as well.”

“Then we are well suited.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Now, I believe you were to meet my mother in the ballroom.”

“She wanted to arrange the urns I think.”

“Very well then.” He opened the ballroom doors and ushered her inside.

The doors were at the top of a short flight of eight or so steps allowing one to see the entire ballroom at a glance upon entering. Huge vases and urns were clustered around the perimeter awaiting the flowers that were to be delivered later today. The room itself was paneled in shades of white adorned with plaster swags and intricate molding. Crystal sconces matched a huge chandelier hanging from a ceiling painted with scenes of the heavens. White marble columns defined galleries along two walls. A balcony hung over the far end, above a series of glass-paned doors leading into the gardens. Every architectural detail was accented and highlighted with gilt. It was so decidedly French and every bit as grand as the very nicest Grand Hotels they’d seen.

“Ahem.”

India’s attention jerked toward the sound of a throat being cleared. Lord Westvale, Lord Brookings and Professor Greer stood at the bottom of the steps, off to one side. Derek’s mother was nowhere in sight.

India’s gaze shifted from the three gentlemen to Derek, who grinned in a satisfied manner.

“Dare I ask what this is about?” she said cautiously.

“My mother told me you had never been to a ball.”

“The opportunity has never presented itself.” Nor had she ever particularly wished to attend a ball.

“But you do know how to dance?”

“Of course. Miss Bicklesham’s has excellent instructors.” If she recalled correctly, she had excelled at dancing. Although, admittedly, she’d never danced with a male partner before.

“No doubt. However, as it has been some time, I thought you might wish for a bit of practice before tomorrow night,” he said in an offhand manner as if this was of no importance at all. But it was. “My stepfather, my brother and the professor have offered to provide you with partners.”

Lord Westvale stepped forward. “I believe the first dance is mine, Miss Prendergast.”

“Well?” An uncertain smile played on Derek’s lips.

“You arranged this,” she said slowly.

He nodded. “I did.”

Somehow the man knew she would be apprehensive about attending a ball, about being in a situation she’d never been in before. She would be ill at ease and out of place. And he did what he could to make it easier for her. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

She leaned close to him and spoke softly into his ear. “You can be shockingly thoughtful, Mr. Saunders.”

“Do try to keep that in mind, Miss Prendergast,” he said quietly. She could hear the smile in his voice.

She straightened, then moved down the steps to greet Lord Westvale.

He offered his arm and escorted her toward the center of the floor. Derek waved in the direction of the balcony, and a moment later, the strains of a sedate waltz played on a violin drifted over the room.

Surprise caught her breath. “Derek arranged for music?”

“Derek arranged for everything, my dear.” The marquess took her right hand in his left and placed his other hand lightly on the small of her back. She rested her free hand on his arm below his shoulder. “Ready?”

“I am.” She forced a light laugh. “I do so love to waltz,” she lied.

God bless him, his lordship was as thoughtful as his stepson. He steered her around the floor with a gentle hand, guiding and directing her steps. He didn’t so much as wince when she stepped on his toes, and he smoothly saved her from falling when she stumbled over her own.

“Did you enjoy your shopping excursion with my wife?” his lordship asked pleasantly after she had begun to feel at ease enough to move with the music rather than against it.

“I’ve never experienced anything quite like it, my lord.”

He chuckled. “Celia considers shopping something of a cross between art and sport.”

“She may well be the nicest woman I have ever met.”

“She speaks highly of you, as well.” He steered her through a simple turn, and she followed with scarcely any effort at all. “She also said you are concerned about her expenditures. You needn’t be. My wife knows the value of the patronage of the Marchioness of Westvale to the merchants she deals with as do they. I am always rather astonished when her bills come in to find they are far less than I would have expected.”

“That is something of a relief.”

“It scarcely matters really. My fortune is more than sufficient. I inherited great wealth, and assorted business enterprises have enabled me to increase it. My father would be shocked, of course, to know that I have dabbled in business, but the world has changed since his day.” He paused. “Derek has been assisting his uncle in recent months with the earl’s business pursuits, management of his properties and that sort of thing. I hear he’s doing more than satisfactory. Derek’s inheritance will be quite significant.”

“So I have heard.”

“I understand from my wife that Derek’s financial future is of no particular concern to you.”

“Her ladyship is wrong, my lord.” Fortune aside, she was not right for Derek, and she did not wish to explain that yet again. Although perhaps in that, too, she was wrong. “I want nothing more than for Derek to receive exactly what he deserves.”

He studied her. “Are we still speaking of his inheritance?”

“I can’t imagine what else we would be talking about.” She shrugged and promptly tripped.

His lordship managed to keep her upright with barely noticeable effort. “I have always thought it beneficial to be able to talk while I dance but perhaps until you are more...”

“Accomplished?”

He smiled. “I was going to say confident. At any rate, perhaps we should forgo conversation and concentrate on the steps for now.”

“I think that is indeed a good idea.” She smiled up at him and tried to concentrate on her feet and the music even though the more she danced, the less she had to think about it.

Every now and then she would catch sight of Derek with the other men, and her heart would do the oddest things. The effort he’d gone to was most impressive and rather touching. There was far more to the man than she had ever imagined.

What did Derek deserve? The more she’d grown to know him, the more her opinions had changed. She no longer wanted to see him thrown in prison. And, as he would make right the fraudulent nature of the Lady Travelers Society, that was no longer necessary.

The music drew to a close. Lord Westvale released her and stepped back. “Excellent effort, Miss Prendergast. Why, a few more turns around the floor and no one will ever suspect you don’t dance every night.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said with a grateful smile.

“If I might give you one piece of advice.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “You have a rather strong tendency to try to lead. Most partners are not fond of having to battle for control at every step.”

She winced. “I shall keep that in mind.”

He flashed her an encouraging smile, then nodded at the professor waiting to take his place.

“I quite enjoy dancing, India, but I fear I am not as fine a dancer as his lordship,” the professor said, assuming the correct position.

“I can’t imagine such a thing.”

The music began, another waltz, this one a bit more sprightly, and they started off. With every note, more and more of what she’d been taught came back to her. Why, this was actually enjoyable. A realization helped by the fact that Professor Greer’s skill on the dance floor was more comparable to India’s than to Derek’s stepfather. But what he lacked in proficiency, he made up for in enthusiasm.

The professor cleared his throat. “I am most impressed by the effort Derek went to on your behalf today.”

“As am I.” India shook her head. “It was very kind of him.”

“I am well aware that you are not overly fond of him.”

“On the contrary, Professor. We have forged a firm friendship.”

“I see.” The professor paused to lead her through a turn. “I have grown quite fond of Derek, as has Estelle. He flirts outrageously with her, you know.”

“Yes, sir, I have noticed that.”

“She quite enjoys it.”

“I have noticed that, as well.” She drew her brows together. “You don’t find it bothersome?”

“Why should I?”

“You just said it was outrageous.”

“Precisely why she adores it.” He chuckled. “I have no concerns as to my wife’s fealty or affections, India. As you are still young, I doubt you will be able to understand this, but when Derek flirts with Estelle, she feels her youth again. There is nothing like the attentions of a dashing, handsome young man to make a woman remember when that was a common occurrence. He understands that, as well. And I am the, oh, how to phrase this delicately, beneficiary, if you will, of her remembrances.”

India summoned an awkward smile.

“I do hope I haven’t shocked you.”

“No, of course not.” She swallowed hard. “Not at all.”

“One doesn’t spend a lifetime molding the minds of young men without learning a thing or two about them in the process. I consider myself an excellent judge of character. Derek is a good man, India.”

“You’re certain of that, are you?” She adopted a teasing tone.

“As certain as experience allows. But I assure you, I cannot recall being in error in my assessment of a man’s nature.” The music faded, and the professor guided her to a halt with a bit of an unexpected flourish. “Even the finest among us makes mistakes, India. Through errors in judgment or even good intentions. You would be wise to remember that.”

“Thank you, Professor, I shall.”

“I believe it is my turn.” Lord Brookings’s voice sounded behind her.

“India.” The professor took her hand and raised it to his lips. “This has been my pleasure. And I fully intend to claim at least one dance tomorrow night.” He placed her hand in Lord Brookings’s, nodded a bow and walked away.

“I should warn you, Miss Prendergast.” A wicked twinkle shone in Lord Brookings’s eyes. He placed his free hand firmly on her back, glanced in Derek’s direction and the music began. “You have saved the best for last.”

“Have I, my lord?”

“Apparently, I shall have to prove it to you. Although, I must say, for a woman who has never been to a ball, you are doing far better than I expected.”

“I was well taught,” she said in a prim manner, then smiled. “But I will admit, I have had little opportunity to dance since I learned at Miss Bicklesham’s. I thought I’d forgotten everything. I find it reassuring how quickly it has all come back to me.”

“You may be one of those people to whom it comes easily.”

“Then I am grateful for that. I would hate to be an embarrassment.” She paused. “I must say, I’d forgotten as well how much I liked dancing.”

“Then you should do it more often,” he said firmly. “Life is entirely too short not to indulge in those things that bring pleasure. And dancing is perhaps the most innocent among those.”

“I would never be so bold or so foolish as to ask what else brings you pleasure, my lord.”

“Why, Miss Prendergast.” He stared down at her. “I do believe you are flirting with me.”

“On the contrary, Lord Brookings—”

His brow shot upward.

“Percy.” She laughed. “I have never flirted in my entire life.”

“It appears, under the appropriate circumstances, that comes easily to you, as well.” He led her through a quick turn and she followed him with relative ease. “Excellent, Miss Prendergast. You are doing extremely well.”

“I am quite enjoying it.”

“Derek thought you might.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “My brother went to a great deal of trouble to arrange this for you.”

“It was extremely thoughtful of him.”

“He can be quite thoughtful, even when one least expects it. He always has been,” he added in an offhand manner. “Although I can’t imagine he would have done all this for anyone else.”

“Only me?” she said lightly.

“Only you.” His gaze met hers, and she nearly stumbled at the honesty in his eyes.

At once the truth hit her. These men weren’t merely helping her dance; they were laying out a case in Derek’s favor. Regaling her with his good points. It was a concerted effort to—what? Win her over? The idea that Derek had asked these men to not only dance with her but make mention of his virtues was an outrage, and she should be furious. But the fact that he had gone to all this trouble so that she might see him in a better light was most endearing. How could she possibly be annoyed with him for that?

“The lady who captures his heart will be a lucky creature indeed.” Sincerity colored his words. “No woman could ever do better. He will spend the rest of his life making her happy.

She stared up at him. “I have no idea what to say to that.”

“Say nothing, Miss Prendergast.” He smiled and executed a quick spin. “Simply remember it.”

The tempo of the music increased and the rest of the dance was spent in a thoughtful silence. At least on India’s part. His lordship was no doubt letting her dwell on his comment, beast of a man that he was.

“Miss Prendergast, I look forward to our next dance,” he said when the music had ended. “Now, unfortunately, I must relinquish you to my brother.” Derek stepped up beside him. Lord Brookings cast him a pitying look. “Not as accomplished a dancer, not as handsome or as clever but not totally objectionable.”

“Ah, brother.” Derek shook his head in a mournful manner. “The fictional world you live in must be a strange and lonely place.”

“Strange perhaps.” A knowing grin curved his lips. “But never lonely.” He nodded, turned and strode across the floor.

“Miss Prendergast,” Derek began, “may I have the honor of this dance?”

“I’m not sure another dance is necessary, Mr. Saunders.” She furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “I feel quite confident now, and your mother will be wondering where I have disappeared to.”

“My mother will be wondering no such thing, and another dance is always necessary.” He signaled to the violinist, and the music started once again.

“Still...” She shook her head even as she moved into his arms. “I don’t know...”

“Trust me, Miss Prendergast.” He gazed down at her, held her a bit more tightly than was proper and moved to the music.

“I do, Mr. Saunders.” Her throat tightened. “I do.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with something unknown, something extraordinary. Shivers raced up her spine. “Then you feel more comfortable, about the ball, that is?”

“Yes, I believe I do. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

They moved together effortlessly, and she suspected he was making accommodations for her because they couldn’t possibly dance this well together. As if their feet were barely touching the floor.

“It was most kind of their lordships and the professor to take the time to assist me.” She studied him curiously. “Are you aware that each and every one also took the opportunity to extol your virtues?”

“No!” He gasped. “Did they?”

“Unceasingly.”

He grinned.

“Your stepfather spoke of your expectations and your interest in business, your brother pointed out the thoughtfulness of your nature and the professor commented on your flirtation with his wife.”

“Oh?” Caution sounded in Derek’s voice.

“He’s quite appreciative of it.”

“Excellent,” he said with relief. “I should mention, in the spirit of honesty, I did suggest that if they wished to mention a few of my more noble qualities to you, I would not object.”

“They served you well.”

“Friends and family do that for you.”

The oddest pang shot through her. She glanced at the room flashing by and noticed they were now alone. “They seem to have taken their leave. Part of your plan?”

“It’s a very good plan,” he said firmly. “Although I do find it interesting that what I consider my best qualities were not the ones they chose.”

“I suppose we rarely see ourselves as others do.” Still, hadn’t she been seeing herself through the eyes of others since this all began? “It can be quite startling.”

“Particularly if one thinks one is always right.”

“Yes, well, that does make it more difficult.” She smiled wryly. “Aside from extolling your virtues and the practicality of refreshing my dance skills, this is all part and parcel of a romantic endeavor on your part, isn’t it?”

He glanced around in surprise. “By God, it is!” He shook his head. “I had no idea.”

She laughed.

He stared at her, a bemused smile on his lips. “When we first met you never smiled at me at all. Let alone laughed.”

She stared in surprise. “What utter nonsense, of course I smiled.”

“You did not. Or at least, not a genuine smile. I wasn’t sure you knew how.” He led her through a more complicated set of steps than she had attempted thus far, and she scarcely noticed.

“How dreadful of me.”

“Not really. We did not get off on the best foot, if you recall. Eventually I realized I would have to earn your smile.”

“And I believe you have,” she said lightly.

“Have I really?” His gaze searched hers. “Because when you smile at me it feels as if I’ve been given a gift.” His arms tightened around her. “A gift I am hard-pressed to live without.”

“Then I shall have to give it to you more often.” The music drew to a close, and they came to a halt. But his arms stayed around her, and she made no effort to move.

“I should warn you. I am claiming the first dance tomorrow and the last.”

“How very forward of you,” she teased.

“I know.” He grinned. “You like it.”

“Perhaps. Derek.” She summoned her courage. “I was wrong about something else.”

Once again he gasped in an exaggerated fashion. “Not you!”

“About the type of woman you are supposed to marry. I see now I might possibly...” She hesitated. There would be no going back.

“Yes?”

“I might have been mistaken.” She smiled up at him.

“Might have been?” He grinned and pulled her closer. “Say it, India.”

“Very well.” She couldn’t help but laugh. What Derek had done for her, all this was just so wonderfully...perfect. “I may have been, possibly—”

His brow arched.

“Probably...” She sighed. “I was wrong. Without question, undoubtedly, undeniably wrong.”

“Why, Miss Prendergast.” He lowered his head down, and she raised her lips to meet his. “You say the most alluring things.”

“Miss Prendergast!” An outraged voice sounded from across the room. “What is the meaning of this?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I BEG YOUR PARDON.” Derek stepped forward. Who in the hell was this? “I don’t know who you are but—”

“Derek.” India placed her hand on his arm to stop him, her gaze locked on the newcomer. Shock shone on her face. “Allow me to introduce Sir Martin Luckthorne.” She drew a deep breath. “My employer.”

“And friend.” Luckthorne stepped closer. “Your very close friend.”

This is Sir Martin? Surely not. According to Derek’s information Sir Martin was in his forties, scholarly and considered somewhat eccentric. This man looked far younger than his years, appeared to be in excellent condition judging by the breadth of his shoulders, had an air of solid determination about him and was not what one would call unattractive. This was India’s employer for the past eight years without so much as a hint of impropriety? What was wrong with the man?

“I must say, India.” Luckthorne frowned. “I did not expect this.”

“And I did not expect you.” India shook her head, still obviously stunned by the new arrival. “What are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes. “And what did you not expect?”

“I did not expect to see you standing in some man’s arms—”

“Or Derek Saunders, if you will, rather than some man,” Derek said. “Although I suppose I might have been called some man on occasion.”

“The Derek Saunders?” Luckthorne stared.

She stepped toward him. “Martin—”

“The rogue? The scoundrel? The mastermind behind the plot to defraud hapless women out of their savings?” Luckthorne’s indignation rang in the ballroom.

A bit overdone really.

“Did you call me a mastermind?” Derek said in an aside to India.

“Yes.” She grimaced. “But that scarcely matters at the moment.”

“And yet I am rather flattered.” He chuckled.

“Flattered?” Luckthorne sputtered.

“Come now, Sir Martin,” Derek said coolly. “The word mastermind denotes both power and intelligence. Why would I not be flattered?”

“You forget scoundrel, as well!”

“I chose to ignore it. And rogue.” He shrugged. “Not the least bit complimentary. I much prefer mastermind. What say you, India? Is it scoundrel or mastermind?”

“Regardless, it—you—are most annoying, and this is beside the point,” she said sharply and directed her attention back to her employer. “Once again, what are you doing here?”

“I assumed, as you did not telegraph as per our agreement, that something had gone horribly wrong and you needed my help.” He squared his shoulders. “You needed rescue.”

India stared. “From what?”

“A mastermind perhaps?” Derek said in an overly innocent manner.

“I can now see I may have been mistaken.” Luckthorne shot Derek a scathing glare.

“In my last telegram I distinctly told you I would not send additional telegrams.”

“You said—” He pulled a telegram from his waistcoat pocket. “‘Search progressing. All is well. No further telegrams necessary. Prendergast.’ What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to think the search was progressing, everything was fine and there was no need for continued telegrams!” She glared. “I really don’t understand why you didn’t.”

“Perhaps because this—” he waved the telegram at her “—was vague and ambiguous and—”

“I only had ten words! I believe I did quite well under the circumstances.”

“It sounded rather clear to me,” Derek said under his breath.

“It sounded like someone who was being held against her will!”

“Against my will?” She scoffed. “That’s the most absurd thing I have ever heard. You of all people should know I would never allow anyone to hold me against my will.”

“She has you there,” Derek murmured.

“You gave me your word that you would send a telegram every three days—”

Derek snorted in derision.

“And I have never known you to go back on your word.” Luckthorne shook his head. “So naturally, I assumed the worst. You are the most responsible person I know.”

“The tide has apparently turned there.” Even so... Derek frowned. “Why didn’t you continue to telegraph him?”

She hesitated. “I needed the money he gave me for the telegrams.”

“Why?” Luckthorne’s brows drew together. “You assured me before you left that you had more than enough to see you through for several months.”

“Yes, indeed, India.” Derek narrowed his gaze. “I, too, thought you had suitable funding.”

“I did.” Her gaze shifted between Derek and her employer; then she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and heaved a resigned sigh. “But I lost it.”

“Lost it? You?” Luckthorne stared in confusion. “I find that hard to believe.” He slanted a suspicious look at Derek. “Are you certain it wasn’t stolen?”

Bloody hell. Was Luckthorne charging him with stealing India’s money? Good. No one could possibly blame him now for taking the man outside and thrashing him thoroughly. He adopted a cold smile. He intended to enjoy this. “Are you implying that I stole Miss Prendergast’s money?”

“Don’t be absurd,” India said quickly. “You’re not. Are you, Martin?”

Luckthorne hesitated, studying Derek warily. No doubt considering whether he stood a chance in a physical confrontation. “No, of course not,” the coward said at last. “But you should have telegraphed me, India. I would have sent you whatever you needed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek stared at her. She was obviously loath to continue. He’d never seen her so hesitant before. “How did you lose your money?”

“I didn’t want to telegraph you,” she said to Luckthorne, “because I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want to ask for your help. It might have been foolish, but there it is.” She turned to Derek. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was an idiot.”

“You are perhaps the most intelligent woman I have ever met,” Derek said.

“As much as I hate to shatter that illusion...” She met his gaze and cringed. “I hid most of my money in my trunk.”

Good God. Luckthorne’s suspicions weren’t entirely wrong. “The trunk that went astray?”

She nodded.

“Oh, well...” Any vague thought he might have had about confessing his role in her missing trunk at some point in the far distant future vanished. “That is awkward.”

“At the very least.” She shook her head. “I thought it would be safer than carrying it all with me.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s safe.” Derek tried and failed to adopt a confident tone. No, this was a secret he would have to take to his grave. “Wherever it is.”

“You do understand how humiliating I find this.”

Genuine guilt ripped through him.

“In hindsight it seems so stupid.”

“Mistakes like this are bound to happen when one is not an experienced traveler,” Derek said in as supportive a tone as he could manage. “Your trunk could have easily arrived exactly where it was supposed to be. It was a stroke of bad luck that it didn’t.”

“Regardless, this is no longer of any consequence,” Luckthorne said firmly. “I am here now, and I intend to return with you immediately to London.”

“You what?” India’s voice rose and her eyes widened.

“It’s obviously past time. Why, I scarcely recognized you.” He glared at her. “What have you done to yourself?”

Her hand flew to her hair. “I am doing my hair a bit differently.”

“And your dress!”

“I quite like it, Martin.” A hard tone colored her words.

It was difficult not to wince. Derek almost pitied the man as he was clearly not as intelligent as Derek had heard. Only a fool would fail to recognize that note in India’s voice.

“It’s not at all like you. Why...” Luckthorne waved at her dress as if to brush it away. “It isn’t even gray!”

“She looks lovely,” Derek said mildly.

“I am well aware of that,” Luckthorne snapped.

“And are you also aware that you are my employer?” India said sharply. “Only my employer.”

“I am indeed! Which is precisely why—”

“Sir Martin!” Mother’s voice rang out over the ballroom. She swept down the stairs and headed toward them. “How delightful to see you again.”

“Do you know her?” India said in a low voice to Luckthorne.

“No.” He stared at the oncoming marchioness as if he were a reclusive feline and she a very exuberant lapdog. Derek had never seen anyone look quite so apprehensive at his mother’s approach, well, not when she was being this charming. “At least I don’t think I do. Who is she?”

“Lady Westvale,” India said under her breath. “And for God’s sakes, Martin, don’t let on that you don’t remember her as she obviously has met you.”

“My dear man, I must apologize for not greeting you when you arrived.” Mother beamed and sailed toward them, extending her hand. “You will be staying here with us I hope? For the ball?”

“The ball?” He took her hand and bowed awkwardly over it.

“Lord and Lady Westvale and her son Lord Brookings are hosting a ball here tomorrow night,” India said.

“I had planned to stay at a hotel.” Luckthorne released Mother’s hand and straightened. “And return to London tomorrow.”

“Oh, my dear man, that will never do.” Mother shook her head. “There is a world exposition here, you know. There is not a room to be had anywhere in Paris.” She cast him a triumphant smile. “You will absolutely have to stay here.”

“Nonetheless, I really don’t think—”

“Furthermore, I would be most distraught if you did not remain for the ball.” Mother sighed in an overly dramatic manner. “There hasn’t been a ball in this house for years and I would hate for dear India’s friend—”

“Employer,” Derek said.

“—to miss what will surely be a festive and most enjoyable evening.”

“I have not been to a ball in some time,” Luckthorne said uneasily.

“Then this is the perfect opportunity for you.” Mother glanced at India. “Don’t you agree?”

“I know I have no intention of missing it.” A stubborn note sounded in India’s voice. Derek had heard that tone before. Surely Luckthorne had, too.

“I am here only to offer my assistance to Miss Prendergast. And I would prefer to waste no time in returning to London.”

“Goodness, Sir Martin.” Mother smiled engagingly. “Stealing the time for a bit of frivolity now and again makes life much more enjoyable.”

“I assure you—”

“Besides,” she continued in a casual manner. “If you stay for the ball, you will have the rest of today and all day tomorrow to attend the exposition. Why, the exhibits of the latest inventions and scientific advancements alone would be well worth your time.”

Derek might have known Mother would find a man’s Achilles’ heel and use it to her advantage. While he would have preferred she get rid of Luckthorne altogether, he wasn’t entirely sure the man wouldn’t manage to convince India to return with him.

“I hadn’t considered that,” Luckthorne said thoughtfully. “I had no intention of attending the exposition but I suppose, as I am in Paris...”

“It would be a dreadful shame if a man of your accomplishments missed this spectacle of man’s progress and achievements,” Mother pointed out.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Luckthorne nodded. “Very well then, I shall stay through tomorrow, and we shall return to London on the day after.”

“Wonderful.” Mother beamed and turned toward her son, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “I suspect India would like to have a word with Sir Martin as he has come such a long way to offer his assistance.”

“Thank you, Lady Westvale. Indeed, I have a great deal to say to Sir Martin.” India’s words were measured and controlled, but it was clear to Derek she was not the least bit happy with her employer. He resisted the urge to grin with delight.

“Derek, if you would join me?” Mother took his arm. “I need your opinion on a matter of some importance.”

He glanced at India. She gave the slightest nod of her head. “Of course.” He nodded at Luckthorne. “Sir Martin.”

“Saunders,” the man replied curtly.

Derek steered his mother toward the stairs. “What is this matter of some importance you wish my opinion on?”

“I believe the weather is quite lovely for June. What do you think?”

He stared down at her. “You wanted my opinion on the weather?”

“Goodness, Derek. I thought you were intelligent enough to understand I simply wished to give India a moment alone with Sir Martin without being overly obvious.”

“Why?”

“Because she needs to straighten a few things out with him.”

They started up the stairs. “You noticed that, did you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“Apparently not.” He was too busy noticing Luckthorne’s overly possessive attitude. He should have thrashed the man when he had the chance. “You’ve never met him before, have you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how did you know—”

“My dear boy.” She shook her head. “Do you really think I would allow you to be smitten with a woman I know nothing about?”

“Smitten?”

“You needn’t deny it. I am your mother, I know these things. While India and I were refurbishing her wardrobe, Stephen made a few inquiries into her background. Naturally, Sir Martin, as her employer, was also of interest.”

“Naturally.”

She slanted him a sharp look. “Sometimes, I cannot tell if you’re annoyed or amused.”

“I’m not annoyed, Mother. I’m most appreciative.” He smiled. “Although it was not necessary. I did the same thing before we left London. And I suspect India made inquiries about me, as well.”

“How very clever of her.” She smiled in a too-smug manner. “I have always wanted an intelligent woman for you. And for your brother, as well. Beauty is fleeting, but a clever woman will keep you on your toes for the rest of your days.”

He chuckled. “You want that for me, do you?”

“Good Lord, Derek.” She cast him a wry look. “You would be quite unbearable otherwise.”

* * *

“WELL?” MARTIN CROSSED his arms over his chest in the manner of a parent reprimanding a child. He could not have picked a worse stance. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What do I have to say for myself?” India could scarcely get out the words. Aside from any number of times since she’d met Derek, she didn’t think she’d ever been quite so furious with a man in her life.

“You are supposed to be searching for poor Lady Heloise and instead I find you in a grand mansion in the heart of Paris in the arms of a scoundrel you wished to see thrown in prison!”

“Yes, well, I might have been wrong about that,” she snapped.

“You are never wrong! And why are you still in Paris? Shouldn’t you be traveling the continent by now?”

“We have not yet exhausted our search here.”

“You’ve been here nearly a fortnight. How difficult can it be to find one mere woman? I found you easily enough.”

“Then I suggest you attempt it, Martin!” India clenched her teeth and prayed for calm. “According to the papers, approximately one hundred thousand people attend the exposition every day, a fair percentage of them English speaking. They are at every other attraction in Paris, as well, and they have filled the hotels. It is far more difficult to find a mere woman in a crowd of her own countrymen than it is if she appeared out of place. Do you understand?”

“I understand completely. Neither you nor that cad are the least bit equipped to find a woman lost in the streets of Paris or anywhere else.” He set his jaw in a determined manner she’d never seen before. “The moment we return to London, I shall do what I should have done in the first place. I will hire someone to find Lady Heloise, and there’s to be no more discussion about it!”

She stared at him. This was not the Martin she knew. Not the man she’d worked for, and with, for eight years. This was some overbearing, pompous, arrogant tyrant of a beast who thought simply because he paid her a salary he could control her entire life.

“In which case...” She squared her shoulders. “I shall be obliged to submit my letter of resignation.”

For a long moment he stared in disbelief. Then he sighed in surrender. “Very well then, I won’t.”

“You never argue with me,” she said slowly. “You chastise, you parry—on occasion you tease. We are never at odds. You never disagree with me. Indeed, you act as if you don’t have a care in the world.” Realization widened her eyes. “Because you haven’t! Not when I’m there.”

He toyed with his collar as if it were entirely too tight and refused to meet her gaze.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re not as concerned about my safety or locating Heloise as you are that I’m gone and you have to fend for yourself.”

“Now see here, India.” An injured note sounded in his voice. “I was worried about you. Admittedly, it has been difficult for me without you. This is the first time you’ve been gone for more than a day or two in eight years and I didn’t like it.” He sighed. “I didn’t like it one bit.”

“Yet another surprise.”

“I was alone, left to my own devices. I couldn’t think—not about anything of significance. My mind kept drifting to mundane matters, like what I should tell the cook to prepare for dinner or perhaps I should look at the morning post or what I should wear to Wednesday’s lecture.” He paused and pinned her with a helpless look. “I had no idea there were so many minuscule details to attend to in a day. It’s exhausting, India.”

“Is it?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Good God, yes. Worse, I was lonely. I am accustomed to having you to discuss with what I wish to discuss. You are an enormous part of my work and my life. I didn’t realize how important until you were gone. And I admit, I don’t like having to take care of everything, but more I don’t like you not being there.” He waved at her in a petulant gesture, like a small child. “And I don’t like that!”

“What?” She frowned. “Are you referring to my appearance?”

“Yes,” he said in a lofty manner. “I don’t like it.”

“Everyone else does. But more important—” she wasn’t sure she’d actually admitted this to herself “—I like it.”

“Well, I won’t have it. It makes you look entirely too...too attractive.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s an admission. I have always thought you most attractive, quite lovely really, but you never did anything to, well, display your charms.”

She choked.

“And therefore no other man seemed to see what I was well aware of. Which was most convenient.” He met her gaze directly. “I did not want to lose you.”

“Oh.” Surprise widened her eyes. She had no idea how to respond to this admission. “Even so, Martin.” She drew a steadying breath. “There was no need to follow me to another country.”

“There was every need.” He huffed. “These weeks without you have brought me to my senses.” He clasped his hands behind his back as he often did when making some sort of pronouncement. “I believe I’m in love with you, India.”

“Of course you are.”

His eyes widened. “You’re not surprised?”

“Why should I be? I take care of nearly everything in your life. Why wouldn’t you think yourself in love with me? At least at the moment.”

“Forever,” he said staunchly.

“Goodness, Martin, the timing alone is questionable. If you were in love with me, I suspect you would have had some inkling before now.”

“Oh, but I have.” He stepped toward her eagerly. “I have had far more than an inkling.”

“And yet you’ve said nothing.”

“There was no need to say anything. Life was well organized and efficient and pleasant. I didn’t have a care in the world. It wasn’t until you left that I realized how much I needed you. And loved you,” he added quickly.

“What you need—” she chose her words with care “—is someone to take care of you.”

“Part and parcel, I believe.” He studied her closely. “You cannot tell me you do not harbor some affection for me, as well.”

“I do indeed, Martin. You are my dear, dear friend. I feel for you as I imagine one might feel for a brother.”

“A brother?” He frowned.

“A cherished brother.”

“That’s not what I thought you would say. I had expected or perhaps hoped, that you...” Realization dawned on his face. “It’s that scoundrel, isn’t it? You’ve fallen in love with him.”

“Good Lord, Martin, now you’re being...” Her breath caught. Hadn’t she already suspected as much?

“I’m being what?”

“Far more perceptive than I would have thought.” She shook her head. “You may be right.”

“Of course, I’m right. It’s not at all far-fetched that you would fall in love with the first man who—”

“That’s enough, Martin,” she said in a cold tone.

“I saw the way you looked at him, and that was not—”

“That is more than enough.” She narrowed her eyes. “You have been my employer and, yes, my friend for eight years. If you wish either of those relationships to continue, you will not say another word.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I apologize.” He sighed. “That was uncalled for. I suspect that’s what jealousy does to a man. Because, you see, it should have been me.”

She considered him thoughtfully. “It probably should have.”

“There is, in most endeavors, an interval of time, usually finite, in which one might set forces in action to be of optimal benefit. A period of opportunity, if you will.” His gaze met hers. “Has ours passed?”

“I’m afraid so.” Odd to think of loving Martin with anything other than friendly affection.

“Regardless, I will warn you, India, now that I have at least realized what I want, I do not intend to give up.” He considered her thoughtfully. “What do we do now?”

“Now?” She grimaced. “I have no idea.”

What was there to do now? Oh, not about Martin, but now that she had accepted her feelings for Derek. Nothing had changed, not really. No matter what she’d said to Derek when they’d danced, she was no more suitable for him now than she had been when they first met. Was this what love did to you? Make you say things you didn’t believe simply because you were in a man’s arms.

Or did it make you believe that anything was possible, if only for the length of a dance?

Derek obviously had feelings for her. While she recognized that she had changed since they’d begun this quest for Heloise, she was not so foolish as to now believe love conquered all. Still, a man had never invaded her dreams before. Or her every waking thought. She’d never longed to be in a man’s arms, or God help her, in his bed. Would it be so wrong to give into those desires? She’d never so much as considered being intimate with a man. But then she’d never had feelings like this before, either. If Paris was all they would ever have, shouldn’t she seize whatever opportunity this adventure she’d stumbled into offered her? And really, was there a better place for seduction than Paris?

“You could marry me, you know,” he said casually.

Her attention snapped back to Martin. “What?”

He squared his shoulders. “Marry me, India.”

Surely he wasn’t serious. “But I am in love with someone else.”

“Someone entirely wrong for you.”

“Is he?”

“Of course he is. You know that as well as I.”

She was hard-pressed to deny it.

“Whereas I am perfect for you.” Eagerness sounded in his voice. “You admit you have some affection for me, and I certainly care for you. I daresay any number of married couples don’t have that between them. We could go on as we always have. Why, nothing needs to change at all.”

“Come now, Martin—everything has changed.”

“Nonsense. I refuse to accept that,” he said in a firm manner. “However, I will let the matter rest for now.”

“Good.”

She had no desire to discuss Martin’s ridiculous proposal although it would not have been quite so absurd a few weeks ago. If he’d asked her to be his wife before she’d left London, she probably would have accepted. Apparently this was something else love did to you. Once having tasted it, nothing else would suffice.

“Regarding Saunders.” Martin’s brow furrowed. “I hope your sensible nature and intelligence has not been dimmed by emotion.”

She bristled. “I assure you it has not.”

“You did not trust him when you left London.”

“And now I do,” she said firmly. “He has proven himself most trustworthy.”

“And yet you have not found your cousin.”

“No, but I am certain we will. Mr. Saunders is making every effort, but as I said, it is proving more difficult than we had hoped.” She paused. “In addition, he has acknowledged his role in the Lady Travelers Society and has given me his word that he will set everything to rights.” Or rather she was confident that he would, but Martin didn’t need to know that.

“And you believe him?”

“Yes.” She raised her chin. “I do.”

“Well, as I am not in love with him, I do not. And I assure you, should I discover any proof as to his nefarious activities, I shall contact Inspector Cooper at once.”

“I would expect you to do no less.” She paused to find the right words. “And I think you’re right—you do need a wife.”

“Excellent.” He beamed.

“But that will not be me.” She shook her head. “We shall put finding you a suitable wife on our schedule when we return.”

He considered her hopefully. “Then you will continue to be in my employ?”

“Only for as long as it takes to find my replacement.”

“I see.” He grimaced. “I’ve mucked this up terribly, haven’t I?”

“I think we have both made errors in judgment.”

Resignation washed across his face. “Mine in not seeing what was right in front of me.”

The oddest sense of regret twisted her heart. He really was a dear man.

“At least we have a ball to look forward to.” He smiled ruefully. “I haven’t been to a ball in years.”

“I know,” she said in a brusque manner. “You think such things are silly and frivolous.”

He chuckled. “Only because you think they are.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Have I really been that adamant about everything?”

“Yes. Always.”

“Well, I daresay one can be efficient without being unyielding.” She sighed. “I shall work on that, too.”

“Too?”

“Martin.” She took his arm and steered him toward the stairs. “This trip has been a journey of revelation for me. Someday, I shall tell you all about it.”

“Because we will always be friends?”

“Of course.”

“You didn’t say what your error in judgment was.”

“Quite simply, I have never doubted that I was always right about everything, that there was no correct point of view other than my own.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “I have now come to the realization that in that, I was terribly, horribly wrong.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

For the first-time lady traveler, the venture will be filled with a number of never before experienced delights. A diary for recording sights and impressions is highly recommended. Regardless of age, one can never truly count on one’s remembrances as one’s memories fade with every new adventure.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

“HAVE YOU SEEN India yet?” Derek adjusted his cuffs for perhaps the hundredth time. Where was the blasted woman?

“One doesn’t appear promptly at one’s first ball.” Mother sipped a glass of champagne, her satisfied gaze skimming over the impressively full ballroom. “One waits to make an entrance.”

Anyone of importance or anyone she deemed interesting, as well as a fair number of Her Majesty’s citizens in Paris for the exposition, had been invited. Mother had mentioned more than once that there had been few refusals to the invitation. But then who would turn down an invitation to join the Marquess of Brookings and the Marquess and Marchioness of Westvale?

Impatience pulled his brows together. “Did you tell her that?”

“I might have mentioned it. Or perhaps I told Mrs. Greer. Delightful woman and well aware of how to do things like this correctly.” She paused. “Did you know that Professor Greer is escorting both his wife and India tonight?”

“I did.” He smiled reluctantly. “Your doing no doubt.”

“I understood Sir Martin wished to escort India, but as you had to join the rest of the family in greeting our guests, I thought it best if she accompanied the Greers. Estelle, dear woman, agreed with me.”

“She doesn’t like Sir Martin?”

“She feels about him as I do. He seems quite acceptable if a bit helpless, but then most men are.”

“I had no idea.” He chuckled.

“And my point is made.” She smiled and waved at a guest. It seemed half of London society was here, as well as all the available flowers in Paris. There was scarcely a single spot in the ballroom that didn’t host an urn of blossoms or an overflowing vase of blooms. Mother had certain standards when it came to her social events. “This is not a competition, you know.”

“What is not a competition?” he said cautiously.

“Come now, dear—you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Mother’s gaze remained on the crowd. “I believe India made her choice when she refused to return to London with him. Now it’s up to you.”

“I see.”

“I do hope so.” She paused. “I assume you intend to marry her.”

“That is my intention.” He shook his head. “Convincing her will be another matter.”

“As she has already refused to marry you once?”

“Not exactly, as I didn’t actually ask her.” Everyone in his family tended to overlook that particular fact. It was extremely annoying. “But she feels she is not an appropriate match for a future earl.”

“And yet I like her far more than any of the appropriate matches you’ve paraded through our lives.” She slanted him a pointed look. “As do you.”

“Agreed.” He nodded. “However, she is also convinced I am the mastermind—”

Mother’s brow arched upward “Mastermind?”

“I know, I like it, too.” He chuckled. “She is convinced I am behind the Lady Travelers Society.”

“She doesn’t know this was Guinevere and her friends’ scheme?”

“No, she thinks I’m manipulating them.”

“Goodness.” Mother shuddered. “Don’t ever let Guinevere know that.” She hesitated. “You aren’t, are you?”

“Yes, Mother.” He rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. “I have been doing nothing but work for Uncle Edward for months now. However, as I am an acknowledged mastermind, I confess, in my free time, I have maneuvered three elderly women into serving as a facade for a fraudulent organization designed to steal the savings of other unsuspecting women while sending them unprepared into the adventure—or rather—the ordeal of travel.”

“It sounds rather bad when you say it that way,” Mother murmured.

“It is bad.” He sighed. “I’m going to seek out additional legal advice when we return to London. I am hoping this can be resolved without anyone the wiser. I should like to avoid everyone ending up in prison.”

“We shall hope for the best.” She finished her champagne and signaled a server to take her glass. “On the bright side, India must think you’re fairly clever.”

“And she has taken it upon herself to reform me.”

“She’s turned you into a project?”

“So it would appear.”

“That’s a very good sign.” Mother cast him a smug smile. “No woman wastes time improving a man if she doesn’t wish to keep him. Even if she hasn’t yet realized it.”

He grinned. “Thank you, Mother.”

“For pointing out the obvious?”

“For easing my nerves.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t remember ever feeling this anxious over—”

“What time is it, dear?”

Derek pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket.

“Never mind, it’s of no consequence. It is time for the dancing to begin.” She put her hand on his arm and nodded toward the stairs. “And India is here.”

The professor paused at the top of the stairs and surveyed the ballroom. Estelle stood on one side, India on the other.

Derek’s breath caught. He was wrong.

She was beautiful.

More than beautiful, really. She was a vision, straight out of every dream he’d ever had. She wore some sort of pale green confection, a shade that reminded him of the translucent color of the curl of a wave of seawater. The gown floated around her as if in defiance of the laws of gravity and yet managed to caress her in all the appropriate places. Softly draped sleeves revealed tantalizing bare shoulders. The bodice dipped a bit low, too low, temptingly low. He’d always appreciated a revealing bodice on a woman’s gown but not this gown on this woman. He couldn’t recall ever having to fight the urge to throw his coat over a woman before. Her hair had been allowed further escape tonight, gently piled on top of her head, soft curls tumbling down one shoulder. A cascade of tiny pink roses drifted down her hair and across her bodice and scattered over her skirt.

“Thank you, Mother.” He couldn’t pull his gaze away from India. “Although, it really doesn’t matter to me.”

“I know that, dear. I didn’t do it for you. Now—” she nodded toward India “—you should join her before someone else does.”

He hurried across the room toward her, trying not to push people out of his way. The first dance was about to begin, and he had already claimed it. He reached the stairs just as she stepped onto the bottom step.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do next. In a perfect world, a world that existed only in dreams, he would sweep her into his arms, press his lips to hers and never let her go. In this world, however, a display of affection while surrounded by people eager for the next bit of gossip would only lead to rumor and gossip about Derek Saunders’s latest indiscretion. He would prefer to avoid that.

He held out his hand. “You are late.”

She placed her hand in his. Amusement flickered in her green eyes. “I am precisely on time, according to your mother.”

“My mother wasn’t counting the minutes until your arrival.” He led her out onto the floor.

“And you were?”

“If I had had to wait another second for you, India—” his gaze met hers “—I would have gone to your room and fetched you myself.”

“Would you?”

“I would, although it would have been a grave mistake.”

“Oh?” A distinct challenge shone in her eyes.

He bent close and spoke softly into her ear. “We would never have left your room.”

She sucked in the tiniest breath, then exhaled softly. “That is good to know.”

Derek almost tripped over his own feet. What in the name of all that was holy did she mean by that? It was one thing for him to make flirtatious, slightly suggestive comments but quite another for her to do so. “Is it?”

She laughed. Which was no answer at all.

He turned to face her. “Are you flirting with me, Miss Prendergast?”

“You are the second man in as many days to accuse me of flirting.”

“Not Sir Martin, I hope.”

“No,” she said firmly.

“Good.”

The music began and she stepped into his arms. “Jealous, Mr. Saunders?”

“Yes.”

“How delightful.” She smiled, and he noticed the faintest dimple at the corner of her mouth. Charming and fairly begging to be kissed. How had he not noticed that before?

They moved together to the soft strains of an easy waltz, and he noted, as he had when they’d first danced together, how very right she felt in his arms. How smoothly they moved to the music as if they and the melody were one. As if they were meant to dance together. As if she was the perfect partner. His perfect partner. The thought was both exciting and terrifying. It struck him that all the other times he’d been in love, or fancied himself in love, there had never been so much as a moment of apprehension. Now, he realized he hadn’t feared losing any of them. The idea of losing India knotted something inside him.

“Dare I ask what you are thinking? You seem very far away.” She studied him curiously. “Your mind is certainly not on the here and now.”

“On the contrary, India, my mind is entirely on the here and now. My thoughts are entirely on you.” He maneuvered them around a couple that was moving far too slowly for even the sedate waltz.

“Now who is being flirtatious?”

“Not at all. Flirtation is a game of sorts, a teasing duel of words, and looks, and gestures, which may or may not lead to something more. Perhaps even something important. Flirtation can be nothing more than a distraction meant only for the moment.” He gazed deep into her green eyes. “Or it can be a promise that will last forever.”

“And is your flirtation a distraction or a promise?” Her tone was light but something—something wonderful—shone in her eyes. “Something for the moment or forever?”

“That may well be too important a question to answer in the middle of a crowd of relative strangers.” He smiled and held his breath. “But I am willing to answer it if you are.”

Her brow arched. “Turning the tables—are we, Mr. Saunders?”

“Whenever possible, Miss Prendergast.” He chuckled and steered her through a perfectly executed turn. She followed his lead without so much as an instant of hesitation, as if she trusted him without question. “I must confess. When I envisioned looking up at the stairs and seeing you tonight I somehow imagined you wearing your gray dress, with your umbrella in one hand and your bag over your arm.”

“I had considered it,” she said thoughtfully. “But your mother went to great effort on my behalf, and she would be inconsolable if I were to appear in my gray dress. Indeed—” she grinned in a wicked manner “—I suspect she would be devastated should she ever even see my gray dress.”

He laughed. “It is not up to her standards of fashion. But, I must confess, I rather miss it.”

“You do not.” She scoffed. “Although there is much to be said about a sensible, serviceable gray wool dress.”

“There is indeed and as a gentleman, I shall refrain from saying it.”

“How very thoughtful of you. And as you have confessed, I shall do so, as well.” She hesitated. “I have never in my entire life had a dress this lovely and this perfect. The color alone, sea foam—”

“I thought it was green.”

“Sea foam, Derek,” she said firmly. “I never imagined wearing such a color. It’s so...carefree. Your mother says it enhances the green in my eyes.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “What you do think?”

“I think now you are fishing for compliments.”

“I would never...” She paused. “Why yes, I believe I am. It’s entirely unlike me but then I have never been to a ball or worn a—”

“Your eyes, India—” he pulled her a bit tighter against him “—rival the finest emeralds, whether you are wearing sea foam or gray wool. Your hair has the loveliest hints of burnished gold when it’s allowed a bit of freedom and makes a man long to run his fingers through it. Your mouth is perfection itself and when you smile the most intoxicating dimple appears at the corner. Your lips beg to be kissed. And tonight, you are indescribable.”

“Oh.” A bemused expression crossed her face. “I was simply hoping for nice.”

“Nice is not sufficient.”

“I shall have to wear this dress all the time.”

“It’s not the dress, although it is lovely.”

“Come now, Derek, I have always been the very definition of ordinary.”

“In your eyes perhaps. Although I would imagine Sir Martin disagrees,” he added in an offhand manner.

“Apparently.” She sighed, and a troubled frown creased her forehead. “I shall have to find a new assistant for him and a new position for myself when we have found Heloise and return to London.”

“You won’t continue your employment with him?”

“I don’t see how I possibly can after he...well, his actions, coming here and...” She shook her head. “It is both surprising and disappointing.”

“Ah well, life is often unpredictable.” Derek resisted the urge to grin with triumph.

“You’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“I have nothing to do with this.” He adopted an innocent expression. “But, yes, I am.”

The music faded and he led her to a graceful stop, releasing her with reluctance.

“Don’t be smug—it’s unbecoming.”

“And yet you think it’s charming.”

“Perhaps a little.” She bit her bottom lip—her delectable, luscious lip—to hold back a smile and his stomach tightened. “I believe my next dance is with the professor. Or perhaps it’s promised to Martin. I should check my card.”

She took his arm, and they walked off the floor.

“Try not to enjoy it.”

She laughed, and the sound wrapped around his soul. He vowed to himself never to take her laugh for granted and do whatever was needed to make certain he heard it every day, for the rest of his life.

“I have never danced with Martin so I can’t say if I will enjoy it or not.” Amusement twinkled in her eyes.

“I shall hope for the best. You do remember I claimed the last dance as well as the first?”

“I do.”

“Although—” he took her gloved hand and raised it to his lips “—if I had my way, you would dance every dance with me.” He met her gaze directly. “Always.”

“You’re trying to be charming again, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

“Goodness, Derek, if I told you that it would only go to your head.” She stared at him for a long moment. “But, if you must know...yes.” A slow smile curved her lips. “Always.”

* * *

INDIA DIDN’T HAVE a dance with Martin until midway through the second set. She had expected to dance with Lords Brookings and Westvale, as well as Professor Greer, but she did not anticipate dance after dance with strangers.

The first dance after Derek’s, with a member of the House of Commons, was awkward. He was no more accomplished at idle chat than she. But with every new partner, she grew more confident—in both conversation and the dance. And every new partner was completely different from the last. Among those she had danced with thus far was a Scottish lord who had far more exuberance on the dance floor than skill, a well-known architect who was acquainted with Professor Greer and an American businessman who went on and on about the charms of Paris. A few weeks ago, India would have argued with him. Now...everything had changed.

Martin at last joined her for their dance, a hurt look on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you have been avoiding me. We have only one dance together. My dance card was given to me already filled.”

“And wasn’t that wonderfully convenient for both of us?” she said brightly. India had been surprised at finding her own dance card filled, but she was well aware Lady Westvale intended to fill Martin’s with an eye toward partnering him with ladies who might share his intellectual interests.

“I have something to tell you,” he said as he swept her into the dance. “But it seems I can’t talk and dance at the same time.” He was having a difficult time matching his steps to the music.

“We could just dance.”

“This is important.” He met her gaze firmly. “Very important.”

At the next opportunity, he steered her through the columns to the gallery.

“Well?” She tried and failed to hide her impatience. “What is so important?”

“I heard Mr. Saunders confess to everything.” A note of triumph sounded in his voice.

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you?”

“I did indeed.” He smirked. She’d never seen him quite so self-satisfied before. It was most annoying.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Exactly what is everything?”

“Everything.” Martin gestured wildly. “You know—all of it!”

“Exactly, if you please.”

“Very well.” He huffed. “I heard him admit that he was the mastermind behind the Lady Travelers Society and that he was profiting from the desires of unsuspecting women who wish to travel. Or words to that effect.”

“I see.” Even though Derek would set things right, he should know better than to open his mouth about his misdeeds. What was the man thinking? “Who did he say this to?”

“His mother!” Victory rang in Martin’s voice. “One does not lie to one’s mother.”

“And he used the word mastermind?” While Derek had seemed pleased at being called a mastermind, India doubted he would include such a title in any confession.

“He did indeed. And he said he wishes to avoid prison.”

“Anyone with any sense wishes to avoid prison.”

“Don’t you see, India? I heard him confess.” Martin fairly quivered with righteous excitement. “I can testify to that in court. We can have him arrested and tried and thrown in prison!”

“Goodness, Martin, I don’t want him arrested.”

Martin threw his hands up in frustration. “Because you love him. Really, India, you need to set that aside and consider the...the greater good, if you will.”

“My feelings for him are beside the point. I have always been an excellent judge of character, and I now believe Mr. Saunders is a decent man who has simply wandered off the path of moral behavior. I have absolutely no doubt he will set everything to rights, which will be best for all concerned.”

Disbelief shone in Martin’s eyes. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Very well.” He shook his head. “But I am not happy about this, India.”

“I didn’t expect you to be.” She paused. “Have you found a wife yet?”

“What?” He stared in disbelief. “Here? Now?”

“This is the perfect place to begin.” She stepped to one side and directed his attention toward the gathering in the ballroom. “There are any number of eligible ladies here who are in Paris for the sole purpose of attending the exhibition. Ladies who are fascinated by progress and new ideas and the latest inventions. I daresay, some of these ladies—” she waved at the crowd in a grand gesture “—couldn’t be more perfect for you than if we had ordered them from a catalogue.”

“Don’t be absurd.” His gaze wandered over the guests. “Do you really think so?”

“I do.” She nodded. “I asked Lady Westvale if there would be any possible matches for you here, and she made sure to put some she thought might be acceptable on your dance card.”

He frowned. “This is rather quick, isn’t it?”

“We did agree you needed a wife.”

He stared at her, a forlorn look of resignation in his eyes. “You really aren’t coming back to me, are you?”

“I thought that was understood,” she said gently. “I think it’s best.” As long as Martin had her to manage his life, he would never find a life of his own. It wasn’t fair to him or to her to remain in his employment. Odd that she had never realized that before. “But I will help you look for a new secretarial assistant, and we shall always be friends.”

“That’s that then, isn’t it?” He managed a weak smile. “I came here to rescue you, you know. Save you from whatever dreadful fate might have befallen you. This is not how I envisioned this ending.” His expression darkened. “If it wasn’t for Saunders, you would never leave me.”

“Perhaps, but Martin.” She placed her hand on his arm and gazed into his eyes. “If it wasn’t for Mr. Saunders and Heloise’s travels and Paris and all of it, you and I might have gone on as we always have for the rest of our days.”

His gaze searched hers. “Would that have been so bad?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But I see now it wouldn’t have been enough, either.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Right again as always, India.” He covered her hand with his. “As your friend, I should like to finish this dance with you.”

She smiled. “I shall be delighted.”

They stepped back on the floor and resumed their dance, mercifully nearing an end. In spite of his alleged acceptance of her decision, Martin had the distinct look of a lost puppy about him.

A few dances later, she found herself partnered with Lord Brookings, who seemed oddly preoccupied and not his usual self.

“Are you having a wonderful time tonight, Miss Prendergast?” Percival asked when they’d begun their dance together.

“I am indeed, my lord.” She studied him closely. “But you aren’t, are you?”

“I am. Or rather, I will. I simply ran into someone I did not expect to see.”

She had noticed him dancing with a dark-haired woman a few minutes ago, an odd expression on his face. “Someone important?”

“Not anymore.” He smiled down at her. “Have you met the American inventor Mother invited?”

“Not yet.” She paused. “I gather this is your attempt to change the subject?”

He ignored her and continued. “The American’s name escapes me for a moment but I do think...”

She smiled and surrendered.

Every now and then she would catch sight of Derek. He was not dancing as much as she, and it was rather satisfying. Sometimes, their gazes would meet, and her heart would race. Sometimes she would catch him unawares, in conversation or at the start of a dance, and she marveled at the odd turn her life had taken. All because Heloise wanted the adventure of travel. She wished her cousin was here now. Heloise probably would have liked this.

A sharp pang of concern or perhaps guilt stabbed her. She still had no idea where Heloise was, and India certainly shouldn’t be having a wonderful time while the dear woman was missing. It had occurred to her more and more in recent days that perhaps Heloise was missing because she wished to be missing. Which made no sense at all, but then, the more India thought about it, the more Heloise’s behavior before she’d left London struck her as unusual. If this was one of India’s detective stories, there would be all sorts of clues. Regardless, they would pick up their search tomorrow and Heloise would never begrudge her this one night.

It truly was a remarkable evening. She scarcely recognized herself in the mirror and danced every dance, accompanied by often interesting conversation and a surprising amount of laughter. It was nothing short of magic.

In no time at all, the last dance was announced and once again she was in Derek’s arms.

“Has your first ball been all you ever dreamed it would be?” He gazed down at her.

“Goodness, Derek, I have never dreamed of attending a ball,” she said with a casual shrug. “However, I must say the evening fulfilled any expectations I might ever have had.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad I was able to share it with you.”

“As am I.” She gazed up at him. “I wish...”

“A wish?” His brow rose. “From the woman who has nothing she would wish for?”

“Apparently, a great deal has changed since I said that.” She paused. “I am not the same woman who started out on this quest.”

“That’s what quests are for. The journey is often more important than the destination.”

“I feel I have changed a great deal.”

“Oh, not entirely.”

“No?” She stared up at him. “I would think you of all people would be pleased.”

“I watched you this morning, helping my mother. You directed the arranging of furniture, of decorations, of flowers. You managed the kitchen staff and put the servers hired for tonight through their paces. You were a general deploying troops, the epitome of efficiency and organization. It was like watching a maestro conduct an orchestra.” He shook his head, an admiring smile on his lips. “You had this house functioning like a fine Swiss watch.”

“I am nothing if not efficient and well organized,” she said primly.

“In that respect you haven’t changed, nor should you. But you have emerged, I think. Like a butterfly from a cocoon.” He studied her curiously. “You have allowed yourself to...to breathe, India.”

“Yes, I believe I have at that.” She thought for a moment. “It’s quite, well, freeing to discover one doesn’t have to always be right.”

“I can imagine.” He smiled and pulled her closer. “But you haven’t told me your wish.”

“It’s my understanding that wishes don’t come true if you tell them.”

His gaze searched hers. “Will you tell me if it comes true?”

“Oh, I suspect you of all people will know.” She smiled up at him and her heart swelled.

How strange to realize that all she’d never thought was possible, never cared about really, never concerned herself with might well be possible, after all. Even as a child, India knew better than to believe in fairy tales of princesses and dashing heroes and magic. Or silly stories of romance and true love and living happily together forever.

Tonight, for the first time in her life, she believed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WHEN INDIA PRENDERGAST was determined to do something, she would let nothing stand in her way. In that, at least, she had not changed. Even if the something in her way was her own trepidation and yes, cowardice.

At least she finally had a genuine use for the peach negligee and matching wrapper, a garment clearly designed for seduction and sin. One would think wearing a lace-trimmed weapon of carnal desire would give a woman set on seduction a fair amount of confidence, and indeed it did. Even if it was currently hidden under the bulky comforter she had wrapped around herself for the walk from her room to Derek’s. Apparently, it took more than resolve and determination to completely change from proper, responsible spinster to harlot, even in Paris.

She squared her shoulders, drew a calming breath and knocked on Derek’s door. And realized she had no idea how to properly seduce a man, although perhaps properly was not the right word.

After a few seconds—or an eternity—the door opened.

Clad in his red dressing gown thrown over striped silken pajamas, Derek stared in obvious confusion. She’d thought he had looked handsome and dashing and very nearly perfect earlier in his formal evening wear but now with his hair rumpled and the sash of his dressing gown loosely tied, he was improper and imperfect and nothing short of irresistible. Her heart raced.

He narrowed his gaze as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “India, is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all.” She shook her head.

“Then, why are you here?” he said slowly.

“Why?” She had rehearsed what she intended to say but apparently, when confronted with a man obviously fresh from his bed and knowing where this could—where she wanted this to lead, words failed her. “It’s difficult to say exactly.”

“What?” He shook his head in confusion.

Come now, India Prendergast, a firm voice in the back of her head said. If this is what you want, and you do, tell the man.

“Very well.” She raised her chin. “I should like to...to be seduced. Or to seduce you, if you prefer. Although admittedly, I have no experience—”

“Good God, India.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her into his room. “Get in here.” Obviously, the man was eager to begin. “Unless you wish to announce your intentions to the entire house.” Or not.

She nodded. “That might be best.”

He shut the door behind him. “Surely, I didn’t hear you correctly. What are you really doing here?” His gaze flicked over her. “And why are you wearing half the bed?”

“Derek.” She braced herself. “Tonight I made a wish, and only you can make the wish come true.”

“Bloody hell, India!” His eyes widened in sheer horror. “What did you wish for?”

“I wished for the night to never end.”

He stared for an endless moment. She suspected it would not be in the spirit of seduction to shift nervously from foot to foot yet it was terribly difficult not to do so.

“Oh no.” He took a step backward. “This is some sort of trick, isn’t it?”

“No, as I said—it’s a seduction. Or an attempted seduction. Although it doesn’t seem to be going very well.” She pulled the coverlet tighter around her. “I did think with your reputation, you would understand and be, well, amenable to the idea.” Her gaze drifted downward, and she cleared her throat. “Although I can see you’re not unaffected by my arrival.”

“Damnation.” It was as much a groan as a word. Derek stalked across the room, grabbed a pillow and held it in front of him. “I’d have to be dead to be unaffected!”

“Precisely my intent. Well, not that you be dead, of course, but—”

“Your meaning was clear, and I congratulate you on your success. In spite of that thing you have wrapped around yourself, you are most...” His expression twisted as if he couldn’t bear to say the words. “Provocative.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, damn it all, India!” He uttered an odd sort of painful laugh. “With your hair...like that.” He waved with his free hand. “All unrestrained and floating about your shoulders, and that tantalizing glimpse of lace, the flush on your cheeks, the sparkle in your eyes...” He glared. “A man can only take so much, you know!”

“Really?” She studied him thoughtfully. Odd that his discomfort eased her nerves. Perhaps this was one of those shoe-on-the-other-foot kind of things. After all, Derek had no doubt seduced a fair number of willing ladies. This might not be so difficult, after all. “You should know I have never done this before.”

Obviously, she had stunned him into silence.

“Seduced a man, that is.”

“Yes, I knew what you meant!”

“Or allowed a man to seduce me. Although I suppose it really doesn’t matter, who seduces whom,” she said thoughtfully. “At some point, I assume the seduction will be mutual.”

“What?” The man could barely croak out the word.

“Carpe diem, remember? This is one of those unexpected opportunities, and I intend to seize it.”

“If I recall, that was in reference to sightseeing. Not—” he waved at her “—whatever this is.”

“Goodness, Derek.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “I believe I have explained this quite thoroughly. Or at least as thoroughly as was necessary. Indeed, I have been painfully obvious.”

His eyes narrowed. “So you have never done this before, and yet here you are.”

“Of course I have never done this. I am not a trollop. I had never kissed a man before you, either.”

“Never?” He stared at her.

“No, never.” She shrugged. “The opportunity never arose.”

“And Sir Martin never—”

“Good Lord, no!”

“Then I’m the first man you ever kissed?”

“We’ve established that.”

“Oh, well, hmm.” He nodded thoughtfully. “That is interesting.”

“I’m glad you think so.” She summoned her courage and let the coverlet fall to the floor. “Shall we?”

His gaze traveled over her from the lace ruffles cascading down the front of the wrapper to the tips of her slippers. Only the fact that between the negligee and the robe there were two layers of the translucent fabric kept her from being completely exposed. But she’d studied herself in the mirror before leaving her room and knew full well there were peaks and shadows barely concealed by the gossamer material. Given the look in his eyes, and his tightened grip on the pillow, he had clearly noticed.

“So.” She forced a light note to her voice and stepped toward him. “Should we...retire? To the bed?”

“That isn’t—” He cleared his throat and stepped back. “That isn’t how things like this are done. You don’t simply go to a man’s room in the middle of the night and say, ‘Seduce me!’”

“I did offer to seduce you.” She stepped closer. “I might need some assistance in that, but the offer remains.”

He stared at her.

“Surely this is not the first time a woman has come to your room with an offer of this nature.”

“No, it isn’t. But that is entirely irrelevant. We’re not talking about some woman. We’re talking about you!” His brows drew together in a forbidding manner. “What did you think was going to happen here, India? Did you think you could simply waltz into my room, declare your intentions and I would throw you onto my bed and have my way with you?”

“That sounds like an excellent way to start.” She nodded. “But you might wish to discard the pillow.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, clutching the pillow tighter against him.

“I must say, I’m a bit surprised.”

“You’re surprised?”

She casually circled around him and sank down on the edge of the bed. “I never imagined this was going to be quite this difficult. I thought a man of your reputation would be more than amenable to a night of...amorous adventure.”

“So I’m the trollop?”

She winced.

“Now see here, India Prendergast.” Indignation rang in his voice. “Admittedly, I have had my share—perhaps more than my share—of amorous adventures. And while the offer is tempting—more than tempting—bloody hell, India, I love you! And you are not the kind of woman one dallies with—especially not on command! You are the type of woman one marries!”

She stared at him. “Does one?”

“It might very well depend.” He stalked over to her, dropped his pillow, yanked her to her feet and into his arms. “Are you here because I am a means to an end? A way to make the night last forever? Or are you here because you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you? Because you cannot stand another minute without being in my arms? Because I have taken up residence in your heart and regardless of how ill suited we are for each other, we are as well inevitable?” His gaze bored into hers. “Because you love me?”

“Well...” Her breath caught. “Yes.”

“That’s settled then.” He stared into her eyes but made no effort to let her go.

“I think you should kiss me now.” She rested her hands on his chest, startled to note he had nothing on beneath the dressing gown beyond the pajama trousers. Just as startling was how exciting that was.

“Do you?” He swallowed.

“It seems like the thing to do.”

“I believe I said the next time I kissed you it would be at a time and place of my choosing.”

“And yet here we are.” She slid her arms around his neck. “Seize the day, Derek.” She tentatively touched her lips to his. “This is an unexpected opportunity.”

He groaned and pulled her tighter to him. His arousal pressed against her through the layers of fabric, and the strangest feeling of need ached inside her.

“Kiss me, Derek,” she murmured against his lips, shifting her hips to press closer. Any lingering apprehension vanished in the heat of his body next to hers.

“India.” He moaned and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss firm but distinctly restrained. She could feel the tension in the hard muscles of his arms around her, as if he were holding himself in check. As if he were afraid. This would never do. He raised his head, released her and stepped back. “There. I have kissed you—now you should go.”

“Derek,” she said with a sigh. “I am a twenty-nine-year-old spinster, which did not bother me at all before I came to Paris. I usually wore gray or brown. I prided myself on my efficiency, and I considered myself quite ordinary. Now I find it rather sad and somewhat pathetic. I feel like an entirely different person. And it’s your fault. You taught me to breathe, Derek, and now you have to suffer the consequences.” She smiled in what she hoped was a sultry manner. “And I have no intention of leaving.”

“And I have no intention of seducing you.” His resolute tone was at complete odds with the sharp bulge beneath his dressing gown.

“Very well then. If you will not seduce me, I shall have to seduce you.”

“Will you?” A distinct challenge shone in his eyes, and he shrugged. “Be my guest.”

“You should know that novels of detection are not the only things I have read.”

“Oh?” He smiled in a knowing manner. “Then by all means, proceed.”

“You would be amazed at what one might learn through the joys of reading,” she said under her breath. Although she really had no idea what to do now.

“I can imagine.” He chuckled.

“You doubt me?”

He shrugged.

She studied him for a moment, then reached out and pulled the sash of his dressing gown free, letting it drop to the floor. The gown fell open, leaving the hard planes of his chest exposed. A smattering of hair covered his torso between his flattened nipples, then trailed down to disappear beneath the trousers. She moved closer and ran her hands over his chest. He shuddered beneath her touch, and his hands clenched into fists by his side, but he made no other movement. A sense of pure power washed through her. How long would it take for him to lose control?

She reached up and kissed the base of his throat, then ran light kisses down his chest. She felt his sharp intake of breath beneath her mouth and smiled to herself. Her hands pushed the gown off his broad shoulders, and it fell with a whisper to the floor. She reveled in the feel of his tensed muscles beneath her fingers, then slowly circled behind him, her hands never leaving his flesh. His back was as well defined as his chest. She stepped back and shrugged out of her wrapper, leaving her covered only by the nearly transparent material of the negligee. Odd that this wasn’t the least bit embarrassing. No man had ever seen her so scantily clad, and yet there wasn’t so much as a hint of apprehension. Instead it was all quite exciting.

She ran her hands over him, caressing his shoulders and tracing the ridges and valleys of his back with the tips of her nails. Her fingers drifted along the cleft of his spine, lower to the waist of his silk trousers, hanging low on his hips, and below to the curve of his buttocks. He tensed at her touch, and she savored the feel of his body and his response. She ran a finger along the edge of the fabric. His breath came a bit faster, as did hers. She moved closer to press against him and kissed the back of his neck. She wrapped her arms around him and reached for the drawstring of his pajamas, inadvertently brushing over his erection. He drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“India.” The word was little more than a moan.

She tugged at the drawstring, and his hand caught hers.

“You realize there is no going back from this?” His voice was ragged with desire.

She swallowed hard. “I do.”

He turned to face her, her hand still in his. “I have never taken a virgin to my bed.”

“Then I shall be your first.”

“No, you shall be my last.” He pulled her to his lips. “Be forewarned, India Prendergast, I don’t want a single night with you. This night is not all I want to last forever.”

“Good.” The word was little more than a sigh.

He kissed the palm of her hand, then her wrist. She shivered and a yearning ache spread low in her abdomen. He straightened, drew her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. For a moment, panic surged through her. What had she done? It was quite exciting when she was the one doing the seducing, when she was in control. Now his mouth plundered hers, demanding and insistent and...her mouth opened to his, and he tasted vaguely of heat and brandy and spice. His arms wrapped tighter around her and the beating of his heart echoed her own. Something decadent and demanding—desire no doubt throbbed deep within her.

His mouth trailed from her lips and along her jaw to linger just below her ear. She caught her breath. His lips ran kisses down the curve of her neck. He moved the sleeves of her gown off her shoulders, his mouth never leaving her flesh, heated beneath his touch. He pushed the gown lower until it slid to the floor leaving her naked in his arms. She shivered with the cool night air and the feel of his body close to hers.

One hand caressed the small of her back and moved lower to the curve of her bottom. He cupped her breast and lowered his head to flick his tongue over the hardened nipple. She gasped, and her stomach tightened. He sucked at her breast and the most astonishing sensations coursed through her. Without thinking, her body pressed closer to his, his erection beneath the fabric of his pajamas nudging between her legs. He shifted his attention to her other breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth, gently nipping and sucking until her knees weakened and her nails dug into his shoulders for support.

He lowered her onto the bed and for a moment stared down at her. “There is nothing ordinary about you, India Prendergast. You are remarkable.”

He ran his hands over her ankles and along the insides of her legs, lightly caressing her knees and traveling ever higher to her inner thighs. Her legs fell open of their own accord; she was conscious of nothing but the astonishing feel of his hands on her skin—arousing and hypnotic. Flesh that had never seemed so alive. As if he had brought her to life.

His fingers slid between the soft folds at the meeting of her thighs and her breath hitched.

“Derek!”

“Carpe diem, Miss Prendergast,” he murmured, sinking to his knees between her legs.

Surely he wasn’t—she propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him. “Derek—you aren’t? You wouldn’t!” She stared. “Would you?”

“Oh, I will.” He grinned, and his head disappeared between her legs.

Her back arched at the first touch of his mouth and she cried out. This was not at all what she’d expected. The girls at Miss Bicklesham’s had shared a great deal of information but this had never... His tongue slid over her, and she moaned with the exquisite sensation. All thought of what she had expected vanished amid an onslaught of unimagined bliss. He toyed with her and teased her with his mouth and his tongue and his fingers. Her hands twisted in the sheets, and she moaned with the ever-increasing ecstasy. The strangest thing seemed to be happening within her. As if her body was growing tighter and tighter, nearing a point where she would surely die of pure pleasure or explode into a thousand pieces. It was quite the most incredible feeling. He slid a finger into her, and that too was different but not unpleasant. Then he slipped a second finger inside, and without warning she shattered. Sheer bliss and utter release thundered through her, and her body shook with the power of it.

A moment later Derek joined her on the bed and gathered her against him. Her mouth eagerly met his, and her hand slipped between them. She wanted to touch him, caress him, pleasure him as he had done her. But more—she wanted him inside her. Wanted to feel the hard length of him taking her, claiming her.

Aching desire again throbbed through her and she threw her leg over his. His erection nudged against her, and he groaned.

“India,” he murmured against her skin, then shifted to position himself between her legs.

He stroked her for a moment until her breath came faster and his fingers were again slick with the evidence of her need. She arched upward to meet him and at last he slid into her, joining her, filling her. His movements were restrained and cautious, achingly slow and deliberate.

There was no more than a twinge of discomfort, awkward for a moment but then eclipsed by the most unique awareness. He seated himself fully within her then slowly moved, sliding out then sliding in, his pace measured and unhurried. With every movement, the strangeness of it all faded replaced by unexpected and amazing sensations. In the back of her mind she noted his thoughtful concern for her and was grateful but whatever demon of desire had been released within her demanded more. She wanted him harder and faster, and she clutched at his shoulders to urge him on. Pleasure, pure and intense, spiraled through her until that odd tension wound again tighter and tighter. He thrust faster in an ever increasing rhythm, her movements instinctively matching his. And when her body convulsed once more and stars obscured her vision and scattered through her blood, she felt him shudder hard against her and moan her name.

They lay entwined together for a minute or a lifetime. She had no doubt lost the ability to move at all nor did she have any desire to do so. She could stay like this—her arms and legs entangled with his—forever. Not the least bit practical, of course, but there it was. Love coupled with passion was apparently a powerful force.

At last he withdrew, propped himself up on one elbow and studied her, a smile of contentment on his handsome face. A smile that no doubt matched her own.

“What are you thinking?” He kissed the tip of her nose.

“I suspect there’s a great deal to be said for a man who knows what he is doing when it comes to seduction. Even when he is reluctant to do so.” She giggled. Good Lord, she had never giggled in her life. What had this man done to her?

“That was an extremely practical observation, Miss Prendergast.”

“I am an extremely practical woman.”

“You realize you are mine now.”

“What?” She laughed. “I belong to you?”

“Forever.” He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “And you will marry me.”

She struggled to sit up. “Will I?”

“I have ruined you, and there is no other option,” he said firmly. “It’s the only practical, sensible, rational thing to do.”

She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “You’re being absurd. I am not a silly nineteen-year-old. I am nearly thirty years of age. You are under no obligation.”

He rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. “Did you miss that part where I said I loved you?”

“Well, no but—”

“And the even more pertinent part where you said you loved me?” His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it.” She sniffed. “I would never say something of that nature if I didn’t mean it.”

“I warned you there was no going back.”

“I thought you meant, well.” She gestured at the crumpled bedclothes around them. “This.”

“I said I didn’t want a single night with you.”

“You did, but—”

“And furthermore you said you were wrong about the type of woman I should marry.”

“I said I was possibly wrong.”

“No, you said you were undeniably wrong.”

“That was a momentary lapse...”

“I would never say anything of that nature if I didn’t mean it,” he mimicked her.

“I do not sound like that,” she said loftily.

He scoffed.

“Perhaps the inflection might have been accurate.”

He laughed, then sobered. “I have never asked a woman to marry me before.” He shook his head. “Nor have I ever wanted to.”

“I cannot do anything until Heloise is found,” she warned.

“I can agree to that.” He grinned. “Besides, you reformed me. The least you can do is make an honest man out of me.”

“Have I reformed you?” Her gaze searched his.

“Without question.” He nodded. “The moment we return to London I will do whatever is necessary to ensure the Lady Travelers Society is completely legitimate.”

“Are you doing that for me or because it’s the right thing to do?”

“Both.”

“Good Lord, I really have reformed you.” She grinned with satisfaction. “I’m very good at this. Perhaps I shall become a reformer.”

“The only one you may reform is me.”

“There is much that needs to change in this world,” she said thoughtfully. “I have never had the means to do anything about it.”

“And think of all you could do if you were no longer employed. And eventually, as Lady Danby.”

“There are a lot of women who have no choice as to their lot in life,” she said. “Perhaps I could try to do something to help them.”

“Excellent idea. But first.” He pulled her back into his arms and rolled until she was beneath him, then nuzzled her neck. Once again that helpless, demanding feel of need washed through her. And with it a delicious sense of expectation.

Apparently, there was much to be said for being a harlot.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Travel expands one’s horizons and broadens one’s mind and view of the world. If one is not open to new experiences, if one is not willing to accept broadening, one should stop reading this guide immediately and stay home.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

IT WAS NEARLY noon by the time Derek made his way to the breakfast room. He had stood guard in the hall while India made her way back to her room, comforter and all. He didn’t want so much as a whisper of gossip to touch her. He grinned. She would hate being embroiled in scandal. He’d never given any consideration to a woman’s reputation, but then he’d never been with a woman who had never been with another man before.

And he’d never been in love. Oh certainly he had fancied himself in love any number of times. It had always struck fast and hard and had vanished just as quickly. Love, for him, had always been easy. Nothing with India was easy. Why, he hadn’t even particularly liked her in the beginning. The feelings he had for her had been slow to take root and slow to blossom. He’d had to earn her friendship and her trust. Now—and she could debate semantics all she wished—now she was his. And he was hers. For today and for the rest of their lives. This was right and this was real.

This was forever.

“Good day.” He strode into the breakfast room with what he suspected was a silly grin on his face. He couldn’t help himself. The rest of his life had begun in the wee hours of the morning and he couldn’t wait for it to continue. He nodded to Val and the Greers, not the least bit surprised to see his mother had not yet made an appearance, and headed to the sideboard. “Estelle, you are looking even lovelier than usual today.”

“Goodness, Derek, the things you say.” She waved off his comment but beamed with pleasure nonetheless.

“I must say, Professor—” Derek poured a cup of Val’s blend of coffee “—you seemed to be having an excellent time last night.”

“I was indeed.” The older man smiled. “There was a most interesting assortment of guests in attendance.”

“And he does love to dance.” Estelle patted her husband’s hand.

The professor shot her a jaunty grin.

“You look in good spirits today,” Val said.

“And you look dreadful.” Derek took a seat next to his brother. “Why?”

“I did not sleep well.” Val shrugged. “Oh, a telegram came for you this morning.” He picked up an envelope beside his plate and handed it to Derek.

Derek opened the envelope and pulled out the message. “It’s from Uncle Edward.” He read the first line, looked up at the others and grinned. “Lady Heloise has been found safe and has returned to her home.”

“Wonderful!” Estelle clapped her hands together.

“Excellent,” the professor said with smile. “India will be extremely relieved.”

“And now you can tell her everything,” Val said. “Although you did say you would tell her after the ball.”

“This will make that much easier,” Derek said with a profound sense of relief. His uncle was apparently taking his role as mastermind behind the search to heart and had personally spoken with Lady Heloise. He resumed reading, and the momentary feeling of reprieve vanished. “Lady Heloise requests that while I may tell India she’s home and well, she wishes to explain the rest of it herself.”

“That takes it out of your hands then.” Val shrugged.

“Indeed it does but...” He grimaced. “I hate keeping something like this from her.”

“You didn’t seem to have a great deal of difficulty keeping it from her before.” Val studied him curiously.

“I don’t like the idea of a lie between us.” Derek’s gaze returned to the telegram.

“It’s not your lie,” Val said.

“What lie?” the professor said in an aside to his wife.

“I don’t know, dear,” Estelle said quietly. “Now, hush.”

“I am complicit in it.” Derek blew a long breath. “And things are, well, different now.”

“Now you’re in love with her.”

The Greers traded glances—Estelle’s was distinctly smug, her husband’s resigned.

“That does make a difference. But more important, she trusts me. I have no desire to betray that trust.”

“Your reasons for not telling her everything are as valid now as they were before Lady Heloise’s reappearance. The only difference is that now I agree with you.” A firm note rang in Val’s voice. “It is not your place to tell her this. This is no longer your decision.”

“You’re right, I suppose, but it feels wrong. It feels like a lie. But...” Derek shook his head. “It’s not my story to tell. It’s been taken out of my hands.”

“What’s been taken out of your hands?” India appeared in the doorway, cast him a brilliant smile—a smile full of shared secrets and promises—and nodded at the rest of the gathering, gesturing at the men to remain seated. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” She headed for the sideboard. “Do forgive me. For some reason I am famished today.” She took a plate and surveyed the offerings. “What isn’t your story to tell, Derek?” she said over her shoulder.

Derek rose to his feet and glanced at Val. His brother was right—this was not his place. “I received a telegram this morning.”

“Another from your uncle?” She selected several sausages. “I do so love these sausages. About business?”

“Not exactly.” He braced himself. “India.”

There must have been something in his voice. She set down her plate and turned around. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he said firmly. “In fact, I have wonderful news.”

“Your cousin is home and safe in London,” Estelle blurted, then winced. “Goodness, Derek, I do apologize but you were taking forever.”

India stared at him. “Is this true?”

Derek smiled. “I believe the quest is over.”

“Thank God.” A sob broke from her, and she choked it back as her eyes filled with tears. “My apologies. I’m not an emotional sort—I certainly never cry. And I know given Heloise’s nature that there was as good a chance that she had simply forgotten to write as there was that something dreadful had happened but...”

Derek moved close and wrapped his arms around her. Muffled sobs shuddered against his chest. “But she is home now, and all is well.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She sniffed then stilled. India raised her head and looked up at him. “What isn’t your story to tell?”

“We should go,” Professor Greer murmured to his wife.

“Absolutely not,” Estelle whispered.

“Uh...” Derek had always considered himself fairly glib. Words came easily to him, especially when they were fashioned in the form of an excuse or an explanation. But now, staring down at India’s expectant face, he realized there was nothing he could say. No one could make this right except Heloise. The only chance the older lady had of repairing whatever damage she may have done with her deceit was if she explained everything to India herself. God knows, Derek had no idea why she’d done what she’d done. No, he couldn’t say anything even if he had any idea what to say. And absolutely nothing came to mind.

“Derek?” She stepped back, a frown furrowing her forehead. “What has been taken out of your hands?”

“I...” Even as he said the words he knew it was a mistake. But what choice did he have? “I really can’t say.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then held out her hand. “May I see the telegram?”

He hesitated.

“Bloody hell.” Val jumped to his feet and grabbed the telegram out of Derek’s hand. “Of course you can. He has nothing to hide.” He passed the paper to India and glared at his brother. “Even if he’s doing all he can to make you think he does.”

“What does this mean?” India read the message. “Snuggs wishes Prendergast be told she is home. Requests nothing further be said.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” Her gaze met his. “Do you?”

“No,” Val said sharply.

“Yes,” Derek said at the same time.

“Would you care to explain it to me?”

For a long moment their gazes locked. He ached to reveal everything. And while she might appreciate his candor, he knew he could cause irreparable damage by doing so. He couldn’t risk her losing the only family she had.

“As I said,” he said slowly, “it is not my story to tell.”

Disappointment and hurt filled her green eyes. “But you do know this story, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Some of it.”

“And you have known for some time?”

“No.” He shook his head firmly.

“But you knew before last night?”

“I did.”

“I see.”

I see? Never a good response but she was wrong. I see said a great deal. About trust and betrayal and disappointment.

He drew a deep breath. “You should go home, India,” he said quietly. “You need to speak with Heloise.”

“Indeed I do.” Her tone was abruptly brisk and impersonal. “If you will excuse me, I must gather my things.” She nodded at the group, turned and left.

Derek hesitated then followed her out of the room. “India.”

“What?” She whirled toward him.

“Let me explain.”

“Very well.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Explain.”

“I only found out about this a few days ago.”

“Then you had a few days to tell me about whatever this is and you chose not to.”

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deny it. “I thought it was best, given Heloise had not yet been located.”