No, it was fortunate he hadn’t kissed her as there could never be anything of a romantic nature between them. And a kiss would surely lead to something more. That was the nature of things. His was a world of wealth and society and power. And hers was one of organization and precision in the assistance of a man dedicated to intellectual pursuits. The differences between their worlds were insurmountable despite what romantic novels or fairy tales might claim. Besides, she had a fairly clear idea of the type of woman that would suit Derek. Someone accomplished and sophisticated, of impeccable heritage and, of course, beautiful. The next Earl of Danby would settle for no less.

Romance was out of the question, but she could indeed be his friend. And that would have to suffice. With every passing day, she was more and more convinced that he was a decent man at heart. One couldn’t spend nearly all one’s time in the company of a man without discerning his true character. He had simply been led astray, out of desperation no doubt. A man destined to be an earl had a great deal of expectations placed on him. It was entirely possible that all Derek needed to mend his larcenous ways was the influence of a good woman. A good woman who was also a good friend. And hadn’t he already offered the hand of friendship? Time to accept that offer—if only for his own benefit.

The idea that had simmered in the back of her thoughts now blossomed into resolve. Determination washed through her and with it a sort of missionary zeal. This might have been the kind of thing her parents felt although she’d been fairly certain, even as a girl, they were much more interested in the adventure of exotic places and the excitement of foreign shores than the saving of souls. Regardless, for the first time since India’s arrival in Paris, at least one matter was firmly in her hands. She was not used to feeling as if events were swirling out of her control, as if she were adrift and at the mercy of others. It was most disquieting.

She was accustomed to managing very nearly everything. Hadn’t she run Heloise’s household ever since she’d finished at Miss Bicklesham’s? And didn’t she supervise Martin’s household as well as everything else he needed? Really, when one looked at it, she managed more than their households, she managed their lives and did so with efficiency and economy. Both would be lost without her.

And there was no time like the present to begin Derek’s true reformation. But first she had to send her telegram to assure Martin of her well-being. It was simple enough:

Search progressing. All is well. No further telegrams necessary. Prendergast.

India was nothing if not efficient. And the most efficient way to help a friend chart a new, legitimate course for his life was with honesty. Poor man was probably not entirely used to honesty. Charm and honesty rarely went hand in hand.

India dispatched the telegram, then joined Derek outside. “Did you dismiss the cab? I thought you wished to find a café.”

“I do, but as it is such a lovely day, I thought we could walk rather than ride.” He inhaled and released an exaggerated breath. “Stimulate the appetite, invigorate the mind, that sort of thing.”

“I have yet to notice your appetite needing any stimulation whatsoever. Indeed, if you did not demand a daily break for sustenance, we could visit at least one more Grand Hotel every day. One would think you’d never had a decent meal the way you insist on interrupting our efforts for food.”

He laughed. “Even you must admit you haven’t eaten a meal yet that wasn’t extremely tasty.”

“I’ll grant you that.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this another one of your attempts to show me Paris?”

“You are the most suspicious woman I have ever met.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “You’ve made it quite clear that you have no desire to see what Paris has to offer which I consider a very great pity. I am simply suggesting a bit of exercise and there’s no better place for that than right here.”

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

“Good Lord, India.” He waved at the street in a grand gesture. “We are on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, one of the most fashionable promenades in Paris. It is not nearly as busy at this hour as it will be later in the day, so it’s perfect for a leisurely stroll. We can walk toward the magnificent Arc de Triomphe—”

“Which you have insisted on expounding upon every time we’ve driven by,” she pointed out.

“Then we shall head toward the Place de la Concorde instead, which many people feel is the true center of Paris. If I recall correctly, there are any number of charming cafés in the vicinity.” He offered his arm.

“Very well then.” She sighed and took his arm. “I see nothing wrong with a nice, brisk walk.”

“You do enjoy having things your own way.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

He chuckled, and they started off. A row of perfectly spaced trees and a strip of lawn separated the sidewalk from the street. Whatever else one might think about Paris, it was nicely laid out.

“Did you manage the appropriate wording for your telegram?” Derek asked offhandedly. “Something to keep the inestimable Sir Martin informed?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever called him inestimable.”

“I stand corrected. I was extrapolating. As you have called him brilliant, respectable and honorable.” He shrugged. “Inestimable seemed appropriate.”

“You might as well call him Sir Martin the Great.” It was really quite pleasant strolling beneath the shade of the trees. No wonder those they passed by—fashionably dressed elegant ladies, nannies with charges by the hand or in prams, well-appointed gentlemen—seemed in no particular hurry.

“Don’t you?”

“Of course not.” She scoffed. “He’s simply my employer and, to a certain extent, my friend.”

“He’s more than your friend.” He glanced at her. “Any man who wants a woman to telegraph him every few days thinks of her as far more than a friend.”

She started and nearly tripped.

“You can’t deny it, can you?” he said in an annoyingly smug manner.

“I have no need to deny it.” She sniffed in disdain. “It simply isn’t true and therefore doesn’t warrant a denial.”

“Methinks thou dost protest too much.”

“You needn’t quote Shakespeare—and inaccurately I might add—to make your point. And I am scarcely protesting at all, simply pointing out the facts.” And Martin was the last thing she wished to discuss. “The building we’re passing.” She nodded at the huge, glass and iron structure. “It strongly resembles the Crystal Palace in London.”

“It’s the Palais de l’Industrie and was indeed constructed to rival the Crystal Palace. And you have changed the subject.”

“Very well then. I understand you had a telegram the other day.”

A decidedly satisfied smile lifted the corners of his lips. “And changing it yet again.”

“In point of fact, I am returning to the original subject of my telegram to Sir Martin. Which reminded me that you had recently received a telegram, at least according to my maid.” She adopted a casual tone. “Was it important?”

“Not really,” Derek said. “It was from my uncle.”

“I thought perhaps it was from Lady Blodgett. I hoped she might have had some news about my cousin.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Or perhaps she wished to keep you informed about the activities of the Lady Travelers Society.” She kept her voice light and her gaze on the tall Egyptian obelisk at the end of the avenue. “It does seem to be quite a profitable enterprise.”

“I’m not sure profitable is the right word.”

“Miss Honeywell told me the membership continues to grow.”

“Membership is closed at the moment,” he said firmly.

“Still, in dues alone I would suspect it brings in a significant amount of money.”

“There does seem to be a lot of interest.” He paused. “I wouldn’t have imagined quite so many women would wish to join an organization dedicated to travel. As there are, it turned out to be a rather brilliant idea.”

She nodded. “And a lucrative one.”

He stopped in midstep. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“If one gives any credence to rumor, your finances are not particularly sound. In addition, you have made a few comments about the state of your pockets.”

“My pockets are just fine, thank you.” His jaw tensed, and they resumed walking.

“It just seems to me if you are unable to afford this search for my cousin, someone must be paying the bills. I simply assumed that was the Lady Travelers Society.”

“I wouldn’t assume anything, India. I assure you I am indeed paying my own way.”

“Thanks to the dues from unsuspecting females,” she murmured.

Again he stopped to stare at her. “What are you—”

“What did you and the professor wish to keep from me yesterday?” she said abruptly.

“Nothing of any interest.” His brows drew together in annoyance. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” She sighed. “Which makes this all the more difficult. I very much fear I am beginning to like you. I think, underneath it all, you might well be a good man.”

“Underneath what?”

She waved off his question. “In spite of the fact that I do indeed distrust you, I find I am starting to enjoy your company.”

He snorted in disbelief.

“Come now, Derek—you can’t be all that surprised. Why, men like you depend on their charm. And even someone as sensible and rational as myself is bound to succumb to it at some point. You are like an endless stream of water, and I am a rock starting to wear away.” They paused at an intersection to wait for a break in the relentless stream of traffic. If this is what the Champs-élysées was like when it wasn’t busy, she couldn’t imagine the scene when it was. “Furthermore, I am now willing to accept the hand of friendship you offered at the beginning of our travels.”

“You just said you still don’t trust me.”

“I daresay, any number of people have friends they don’t entirely trust.

“True enough but—”

“Who other people choose as friends is not my concern. As your friend, my only concern is you. And I’m certain, with a little effort—” she favored him with a brilliant smile “—you can earn my trust.”

“I’m so glad one of us is confident,” he said and steered her quickly across the street.

“Which is of little importance really.” She shrugged. “The only truly important matter is finding my cousin. As for everything else...” She heaved a heartfelt sigh. “If you would just be honest with me about your involvement with the Lady Travelers Society.”

He pulled up short. “My what?”

The street ended in a huge, open rectangular plaza. The obelisk was centered between two enormous iron fountains colored black and green. Water droplets sparkled in the sunlight and danced over gilded accents. Precisely aligned lampposts outlined the border between the pavement and the street and statues marked the corners. The park Derek had insisted they walk through a few days ago lay beyond the square. “Is this it then? The Place de la Concorde? The true center of Paris?”

“Yes, yes.” Impatience rang in his voice. “What—”

“Isn’t this where the guillotine—”

“Yes,” he snapped. “And as gratified as I am to know that you’ve listened to something I’ve said, this is not the time. What involvement? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be absurd—of course you do.” She glanced from side to side. “You can certainly see everything from here, can’t you? A bridge over the Seine on the right and the arch behind us. Why you can even see that dreadful tower.”

“India.” A warning sounded in his voice.

“My, my Derek, which of us doesn’t wish to see Paris now?” she said pleasantly. It was rather nice annoying him for a change. Still, perhaps it was time. “I’m talking about the fact that the Lady Travelers Society is a fraud. You’re taking funds for the arrangement of travel without the slightest ability to do so. It’s a sham designed to do nothing more than put money in the pockets of the man behind it.” She met his gaze directly. “The man hiding behind three sweet elderly ladies.”

“The man...” His eyes widened with realization. His voice rose. “You mean me?”

“Yes, I mean you. Who else could I possibly mean? I assume you are in this scheme alone.” She frowned. “Unless there is someone else involved?”

“No.” He shook his head, a stunned look on his face. She’d seen the very same expression on the face of one of her young charges during her brief, ill-fated period as a governess when the devil child had been caught adding pepper to his sister’s porridge. “There’s no one else.”

“Excellent.” She nodded. “Otherwise this would be most awkward.”

“Awkward?”