“India Prendergast?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “A lovely name but if I’ve heard it before I simply can’t remember.” She heaved a wistful sigh. “I fear my memory is not what it once was.”

“She’s written the society a number of times,” Derek said. “Now do you remember?”

“Effie handles most of the correspondence,” Aunt Guinevere offered.

Derek turned to the other woman. “Mrs. Higginbotham?”

“Prendergast you say?” Mrs. Higginbotham asked.

Derek nodded.

“Let me think.” She pursed her lips and considered the question then shrugged. “No, it doesn’t sound the least bit familiar, but then my memory is no better than Poppy’s.” She cast him a helpless smile he didn’t believe for a moment.

“That is odd.” He laid his palm on the stack of papers on the desk. “As she has written you at least five letters demanding to know the whereabouts of her cousin.”

Aunt Guinevere’s eyes widened. “And who is her cousin, dear?”

Oh, they were good, this trio of septuagenarians. He would wager a considerable amount their minds and their memories were as sharp or sharper than his own. Still, he was not going to be outwitted by the pretense of elderly virtue or incompetence.

“Lady Heloise Snuggs.”

“Of course.” Aunt Guinevere beamed as if she was proud merely to have recognized the name. “Dear Heloise.”

“Dear, dear Heloise,” the other ladies murmured.

He resisted the urge to raise his voice. “Do you know where Lady Heloise is at the moment?”

Aunt Guinevere shrugged. “I haven’t a clue.”

“She could be anywhere, I would think,” Mrs. Higginbotham said.

“Although I suspect she’s somewhere between Paris and Constantinople.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore thought for a minute. “Or perhaps Hamburg and Athens. It’s impossible to say with any certainty.”

Derek stared. “Did you or did you not arrange Lady Heloise’s travel?”

The trio shifted uneasily in their chairs.

“An answer if you please, ladies.”

“Certainly, we arranged Lady Heloise’s travel.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore chose her words with obvious care.

“There is a possibility,” Mrs. Higginbotham said slowly, “that we did not arrange it as efficiently as one might hope.”

“That is to say, while we did write to hotels and other establishments across the path Lady Heloise wished to take requesting accommodations...” Mrs. Higginbotham began.

“We didn’t actually receive any definitive confirmations,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore finished. “You see, once Lady Heloise decided to embark upon a life of travel, she was impatient to be off. She assured us our assistance had been invaluable.”

“We did our best, Derek, to send her off with all the information she might possibly need, brochures, tourist guides, train and ship timetables. She couldn’t possibly be more prepared,” Aunt Guinevere said staunchly.

“Unless, of course, you had actually confirmed her travel and accommodations.”

“There is that,” one of the ladies conceded.

Derek pressed his fingers to his temples in hopes of forestalling the kind of headache he used to experience only after a night of drunken merriment. He hadn’t the slightest doubt his great-aunt and her friends were well aware of Miss Prendergast’s letters and her valid charge that their society had mislaid her cousin through incompetency and chicanery, as well as her threats to involve the police in the matter if something was not done to locate Lady Heloise and ensure her safety. Aside from the fact that he didn’t want Aunt Guinevere incarcerated, his mother’s request for Derek to keep an eye on her would certainly place the responsibility for any kind of scandal squarely on his shoulders. Especially in Uncle Edward’s eyes. Besides, if he and his mother had paid more attention to the needs of an elderly relative, perhaps she wouldn’t have turned to this scheme in the first place.

Now it was up to him to get Aunt Guinevere out of it. No, he amended the thought, it was up to him to extricate all three old friends from this mess. He suspected if one was drowning, the other two would do whatever was necessary to save her even if it meant they would all sink beneath the waves together.

He drew a steadying breath. “Well, it appears Lady Heloise has vanished. I do not want to think of the consequences if she is not found unharmed. In the letters you claim to be unaware of—” the ladies traded guilty looks “—Miss Prendergast threatens legal action.” He met his aunt’s gaze directly. “She has already contacted Scotland Yard.”

Aunt Guinevere gasped.

“I made inquiries at a private investigation agency about efforts to locate Lady Heloise.”

“How brilliant of you, Mr. Saunders.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore beamed.

“I told you he was clever.” Aunt Guinevere’s smile matched her friend’s. “I knew he would find a way to determine the whereabouts of Lady Heloise.”

“I doubt that she’s truly missing,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “Why, I myself am quite awful at keeping up with correspondence.”

“Although making certain she has come to no harm is probably a good idea,” Aunt Guinevere pointed out. “We would hate for the membership to be concerned—”

“The membership is now closed,” Derek said firmly. “You will accept no new members until the matter of Lady Heloise is resolved. Nor will you plan trips for any of your current members, and, for God’s sake, should a trip already be in the works, do not let any of them embark upon it. Once Lady Heloise is located, we will then decide the future of your Lady Travelers Society and whether or not it can become something more legitimate than it now appears.”

Mrs. Higginbotham sucked in a short breath, but Aunt Guinevere laid a hand on her arm and the other woman’s mouth snapped shut.

“Unfortunately, the agency I contacted warned me it would take some time and considerable resources to locate a woman missing outside England. Given the increasing level of concern, as well as the growing outrage in Miss Prendergast’s correspondence, time is not on our side.” He ran his hand through his hair. As much as he hated to admit it, his latest discussion with the agency that morning had left him with one inescapable conclusion. “I’m afraid at this juncture, leaving the tracing of Lady Heloise in the hands of even the best of professionals may not be enough.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” A hard feminine voice sounded from the doorway. “That is not nearly enough.”


CHAPTER THREE


While travel is the dream of many ladies, the first step in setting forth from one’s native land should not be taken lightly. Without planning and preparation—the keys to successful travel—one might find oneself in unexpected difficulties far from home. Which is not at all the kind of adventure even the most intrepid among us seek.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide


THE WOMAN HE’D noticed sitting beside Miss Honeywell stood in the now open doorway, a leather lady’s traveling handbag on her arm, an umbrella in her hand. Derek could have sworn he had closed the door, but perhaps she had been listening on the other side. He wouldn’t be surprised. There was an air of determination about her, from the top of her sensible hat perched firmly on nondescript brown hair to the tips of her sturdy, practical shoes. She was at least a head shorter than he, yet managed to convey an impression of towering indignation and barely suppressed ire. This was a woman who would let nothing stand in her path.

“Well, that’s that, Derek.” Aunt Guinevere rose to her feet, Derek a beat behind her. He could almost see the tiny gears and flywheels of her mind working. The woman was planning her escape. “As much as I would love to continue our discussion—” she cast a brilliant smile at the stranger “—it seems we have the needs of a member to attend to.”

“The needs of the membership must come first,” Mrs. Higginbotham said firmly and stood. Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore followed suit.

“I am most certainly not a member,” the intruder said.

“Then you must be here to join.” Enthusiasm rang in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice. “How delightful.”

“I am not here—” the young woman began.

“I beg your pardon, miss, but you are intruding on a private meeting,” Derek said in a harder tone than he might otherwise have taken, but she struck him as the kind of woman who would respond to nothing less than a firm, resolute manner. “However, as it’s obvious you are not going to let a little thing like a closed door dissuade you, please do me the courtesy of allowing me a moment.”

“My apologies for the interruption, but the door was not closed.” She glared at him. “Do go on.”

“Thank you.” Derek breathed a bit easier. He had long prided himself on being an excellent judge of character—especially when it came to the fairer sex—although it did not take any particular skill to see this woman was both irate and indomitable. Nor was it especially far-fetched to assume this was Miss India Prendergast, as he was fairly certain Miss Prendergast’s cousin was the only traveler the society had lost thus far. At least he had bought himself a minute, maybe two.

He turned to his great-aunt. “Sit down, Aunt Guinevere.”

She opened her mouth as if she was about to refuse, then sighed and retook her seat.

He directed a hard gaze at her coconspirators. Both Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore looked as if they were about to sprint for the door. Under other circumstances, Derek would have paid a great deal to have seen that. “All of you.”

The ladies sat, and Derek’s attention shifted back to the newcomer. He’d been expecting Miss Prendergast to make an appearance ever since he’d discovered her letters to the society and realized they’d been ignored. From her increasingly adamant correspondence, he did not think she was a woman who took well to being ignored. What he did not expect was the eyes flashing with suspicion and accusation to be so vividly green. Or that the lips now pressed together in disapproval would be so full and appealing—ripe was the word that came to mind. Nor did he expect the figure encased in eminently sensible, practical and unflattering clothing to be quite so provocative. And he did not anticipate she would be so young—no more than thirty he guessed. Derek had always had the knack of noticing a woman’s good points well before her flaws. It was part of his nature, and he considered it a gift he employed well. Ladies did seem to appreciate it. Even so, it was obvious no amount of charm would endear him to Miss India Prendergast.

Still, nothing ventured, as they said. He adopted his most pleasant smile. “Thank you for your patience, Miss Prendergast?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Have we met?”

“I have not had that pleasure.”

“I assure you, I do not intend for it to be a pleasure,” she said in a curt manner.

No, charm would not work with Miss Prendergast. Regardless, it was all he had.

“Nor do I expect it to be, Miss Prendergast, as we have a situation of some difficulty to address. But first, I am Mr. Derek Saunders—”

“I know who you are.”

“Then an introduction is not necessary.” He gestured toward the older ladies. “But allow me to introduce my great-aunt Guinevere, Lady Blodgett, and her friends—Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and Mrs. Higginbotham.”

“It’s a very great pleasure to meet you, Miss Prendergast,” Aunt Guinevere began, “even under such trying circumstances. I can assure you it was never our intention—”

“Not to respond to your letters of concern,” Derek cut in smoothly. God knows what Aunt Guinevere was about to confess, but he was sure it would do more harm than good. Far better to move on to finding Lady Heloise than acknowledge the incompetence of his aunt and her friends. “We understand how difficult this must be. I assure you, we are doing all in our power to locate Lady Heloise.”

“Are you?” Her brows rose. “It did not sound that way to me.”

“One never hears anything good when one is engaged in eavesdropping,” Mrs. Higginbotham chided.

“I was not eavesdropping,” Miss Prendergast said coolly. “As I said, the door was open.”

“And yet I could have sworn I had closed it.” Derek adopted a polite smile.

“Which is entirely beside the point.” Miss Prendergast squared her shoulders. “What are you doing to find my cousin?”

“Please, have a seat, Miss Prendergast, so that we may discuss this in a civilized manner.” Derek indicated another chair.

“Yes, indeed, Miss Prendergast,” Aunt Guinevere said. “It’s most awkward with all of us seated and you standing there like an avenging angel. Why, you’ve quite frightened poor Poppy nearly to death.”

“I am easily terrified.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore widened her eyes. Derek wished she would look a little more frightened and a little less like a stage actress in a bad play.