“One would think that. I know,” he said brightly. “Why don’t I check for you?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I would be most grateful.”

“I am happy to do it, as any responsible friend would.”

“In the meantime, I will wait for Suzette to return.”

“And I will see you downstairs whenever you are ready.” He smiled and took his leave, closing her door behind him.

It did indeed stand to reason that her trunk would be somewhere in the house. If, of course, it had arrived at the house in the first place. Which was contingent upon whether or not—when it was checked at the beginning of their journey—it was appropriately labeled for Paris and not, oh, say, Prague. An understandable mistake really. There was nothing more annoying than to have to delay one’s travel plans and be compelled to stay longer in a city than intended in hopes of recovering one’s luggage. But if one wished to ever see one’s belongings again, there was little choice. And who knew how long it might take?

Derek ignored a tiny twinge of guilt. When all this was over, he would replace India’s wardrobe and anything else she might have brought along with her. And there was always the possibility that her errant trunk would make its way back to England. Eventually.

Uncle Edward would argue that, ultimately, this was in India’s and her cousin’s best interests as well as Aunt Guinevere’s. His resources were far more likely to track down Lady Heloise than Derek and India were. Still, she would never see it that way.

Even so, diverting her luggage off to the ends of the earth was not the best way to start a friendship.


CHAPTER NINE


As much as it may be an affront to the sensibilities of a proper Englishwoman, one must understand the customs of a foreign land are often far different from what one is used to. Embracing local customs will endear one to the native population as well as provide an amusing story to relate upon one’s return home.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide


WHERE WAS THE blasted man?

India waited in the foyer and resisted the urge to tap her foot with impatience. She’d sent word to Derek through Suzette that she was ready to leave and now wished to do so without further delay. Admittedly, their late start could partially be laid to rest at her feet, given she had not risen as early as was her custom. Even so, it did seem that it took an eternity to get her clothes returned. She felt much more her usual self in her own clothing with her hair in its usual coiffure. Ready to face the world and get on with the search for Heloise. And more than ready to put this morning behind her.

She wasn’t at all sure what had come over her. In hindsight, she had indeed done all she could to get Lord Brookings to leave her room. Short of leaping out of bed and escorting him bodily to the door, she didn’t know what else she could have tried. It was most annoying. But oddly enough, she’d found the man—as well as his stepbrother—rather amusing. And she shouldn’t have. There was nothing amusing about impropriety.

Even though there was no blood between them, she was not at all surprised to learn of Derek and Lord Brookings familial connection. Both men shared a certain air of confidence, both obviously relied on their dashing looks and charming natures, and both were entirely too flirtatious for their own good, or the good of any woman who unwittingly crossed their paths. Derek was a bit less obvious about it than his lordship, although she never would have imagined any man could be surer of himself than Derek. But she had noted the oddest look in Derek’s eyes when he had first entered her room that didn’t speak at all of confidence. It was rather something akin to revelation.

It wasn’t until he’d left and she’d assessed her appearance in the antiquated pier mirror by the window that she suspected what that look might have meant. It was absurd, but, for a moment, India wasn’t entirely sure the image reflected was her. She didn’t look at all like her usual self. Her hair had reverted to its natural state and was a riot of annoying curls, the bane of her existence. Her face was decidedly flushed, no doubt with frustration over her attempts to rid the room of Lord Brookings, which made her eyes look somewhat greener than they were. And thank God neither man had seen more of her in the negligee than her arms. The disgraceful garment clung to her in all sorts of ways it shouldn’t, defining and revealing curves she didn’t realize could look quite so fetching. In a terribly immoral way, of course. All in all, she had no idea who the tousled creature staring back from the mirror was. The image was both shocking and, perhaps, a bit intriguing, but it certainly wasn’t India Prendergast. Or at least not the India Prendergast she’d always seen in the mirror before. Regardless, it was a momentary aberration and nothing more significant than that. The blame could be placed squarely on the negligee, the circumstances, the decadent boudoir and even Paris itself.

And despite how amusing she might on occasion find Derek, she could not let that deter her from the reasons she was with him in the first place. One—and the most important—was to locate Heloise and make certain she was safe. And two—find some way to prove Derek was indeed the mastermind behind the fraudulent Lady Travelers Society—an immoral, illegal enterprise created for the sole purpose of separating women, particularly older women, from their savings. India hadn’t been able to save Heloise from his plot, but she would prevent him from fleecing anyone else. It was the responsible—the right thing to do. And India prided herself on always being right, morally as well as every other way.

“I see you’re ready to go.” Derek descended the stairway, a spring in his step, to join her in the foyer.

“I am.” She nodded. “Have you managed to find my trunk?”

“Not yet, but I have the entire staff looking for it.” He smiled in an encouraging manner. “This is an extremely large house, and your trunk could have been put anywhere. However, I am certain that your luggage will be recovered by the time we return.”

“I do hope so,” she said, the confident note in her voice belying the niggling fear that she might never see her things again. In terms of possessions, she didn’t have a great deal to lose. The trunk itself was somewhat battered—it had once served to transport her things to and from Miss Bicklesham’s—but losing it would be devastating.

She had packed sparsely with an eye toward economy. A few dresses suitable for traveling, a couple of additional blouses, an extra skirt, undergarments of course, nightclothes, a pair of boots and a second pair of sturdy walking shoes. She’d also brought a simple gown appropriate for evening and slippers to match, should that become necessary—which she assumed it wouldn’t. This was not a pleasure trip. Still, one should be properly prepared. According to Heloise, being properly prepared for any eventuality was practically the motto of the Lady Travelers Society. In that piece of advice alone the society was competent. India did wonder if any of the pamphlets Heloise had brought home from the society dealt with the loss of one’s luggage.

“Unless you have some objection, Professor Greer and his wife would like to see some of the city, and I didn’t think it was necessary for them to accompany us. Don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” India said with relief. “I suspect they would only hinder our progress.”

“My thoughts exactly. Besides, Mrs. Greer has always wanted to see Paris, and who knows how long we’ll stay? This might be her only chance.”

“Then she should certainly take it.”

“Excellent.” Derek nodded. “Now then, I have reread Lady Heloise’s letters and perused her itinerary. You have her photograph with you, I assume.”

“I do.”

“Very good.” Derek pulled a small notebook and a Baedeker guide from his coat pocket. “I have made a number of notes as to how to proceed.”

“You made notes?”

“I wished to organize my thoughts and our efforts.”

She studied him closely. “You do not strike me as the sort of man who takes well to organization.”

“Then I am delighted that I have surprised you,” he said in a pleasant manner. “In recent months I have seen the benefit of organization when one has something one wishes to accomplish quickly and efficiently.”

“It’s most...admirable.” And shocking. Of all the things she expected from him, organization and efficiency were not among them.

“Furthermore, we need a definite plan of action, unless you intend to simply wander the streets of Paris calling Lady Heloise’s name?”

“No, of course not.” Although she really hadn’t given any consideration as to how to actually find her cousin.

“I didn’t think so. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of devising a plan of sorts.” He glanced at her. “Do you have an idea?”

“No.” She had no more than a vague thought in the back of her mind about making inquiries at places Heloise had mentioned in her letters. “Not yet.”

“Should we wait until you do?”

She did not for a moment believe the innocent note in his voice. “I suggest we follow your plan until such time as it needs revision.”

“Very well then.” He flipped open his notebook. “Unfortunately, her itinerary strikes me as rather vague and a bit haphazard as to arrival dates and departures. Nor does it indicate which hotel she intended to stay in—”

“Rather a serious omission—don’t you think?” she asked pointedly. “One would imagine such pertinent information would be included on an itinerary created by a travelers society and assistance agency.”

“Itineraries change, India, as plans for travel progress,” he said, his attention never leaving his notebook. “In addition, people don’t always go where they’re expected to go. It’s part of the adventure, to head toward an unforeseen destination because it strikes you as interesting. Is the schedule your cousin left with you her final itinerary?”

“I’m not sure.” Blast it all. India had scarcely given Heloise’s itinerary more than a second glance when her cousin had given it to her. Admittedly, that had been when Heloise had first announced her intention to travel. A scant two weeks later the older woman was off, and, while India had glanced at the places Heloise had intended to visit, she’d paid no notice whatsoever to the details of her lodging. “She did mention she would stay in Paris as long as it took to see everything she wished to see.”

“That would have been good to know,” he said under his breath. “In her first letter from Paris, she says her room in ‘this grand hotel’ is more than adequate.”

“Then obviously she was staying at the Grand Hotel. I suggest we make our way there and inquire after her.” India couldn’t quite keep the note of triumph out of her voice. While it was the logical place to start, it was also her suggestion.

“I agree.” He smiled pleasantly. “Which Grand Hotel?”

“What do you mean which Grand Hotel? The Grand Hotel.”

“And herein lies our first problem.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see a problem. It seems very straightforward and sensible to me.”

“Perhaps it would if you were more prepared.”

She stared. “I beg your pardon?”

“Did you bring a guidebook to Paris with you? Do you have a listing of hotels? Did you think to ask your cousin exactly where she planned to stay in Paris or anywhere else?”

“No, but—”

“I suggest you take a look at this.” He handed her the Baedeker.

She took the book and opened it. “And what, pray tell, am I looking for?”

“You’re looking for the Grand Hotel of course.” He paused. “You will also find the Grand Hotel du Louvre, the Grand Hotel de Port Mahon, the Grand Hotel Normandy, the Grand Hotel de Chateaudun, the Grand Hotel—”

“How many Grand Hotels are there?”

“I counted twenty-seven in the guidebook. I have made a list of each and every one.” He paused. “But I might have missed some.”

“Good Lord.” She paged through the guide. “What utter insanity. How very...French!”

“I daresay there are a few Grand Hotels in London, as well,” he observed mildly. It was most annoying.

“A few is a far different matter than dozens! How can such a thing be permitted?”

“I doubt it can be prevented.”

“Even so—”

“You must admit—it’s an excellent name for a hotel. It conjures up an impressive image of hospitality and service.”

“They can’t all be grand,” she muttered, skimming the small, tight print.

“Probably not, but I can’t imagine a hotel attracting much business by calling itself the Almost Grand Hotel or the Less Than Grand Hotel. And would you really wish to stay at lodgings called the Tiny, Trivial and Insignificant Hotel?”