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

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

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

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

She stared. “I have assets?”

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

“Not that I recall.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. Wicked of me, wasn’t it?”

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

“In what?”

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

“In becoming his father.”

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

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

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

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

“His family didn’t approve?”

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

“Go on.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Investments?”

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

“Oh.” She stared. “I see.”

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

Surprise widened her eyes. “Oh?”

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

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

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

“That is unfortunate,” she murmured.

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

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

“Of course you are.”

“As his friend.”

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

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

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

“That is good to know.”

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

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


CHAPTER FIFTEEN


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

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am trying to compose my telegram.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any number of women are not you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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