“Where?” Estelle hurried behind her.

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

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

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

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

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

Estelle shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

India traded glances with Estelle.

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

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

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

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

Estelle smiled at her gratefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raised a brow. “Again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

India gasped. “I most certainly do not!”

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

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

“Now you’re probably right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He turned, and she realized her mistake.

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

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

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

“I am sorry.” She took a step back.

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

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

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