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

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

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

She arched a brow. “For you?”

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

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

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

“You remember that, do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything.”

“About Mr. Saunders.”

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

“It’s like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not in that dress.”

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

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

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

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

“Many,” she said sharply.

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

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

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

She snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, now you have.”

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

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

He winced.

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

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

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

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

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

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

“I scarcely know what to say.”

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

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

“I like silly stories. I always have.”

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

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

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

“What a snob you are, India.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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