The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen

by Victoria Alexander

  “Unless you have some objection, Professor Greer and his wife would like to see some of the city, and I didn’t think it was necessary for them to accompany us. Don’t you agree?”

  “Absolutely,” India said with relief. “I suspect they would only hinder our progress.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Besides, Mrs. Greer has always wanted to see Paris, and who knows how long we’ll stay? This might be her only chance.”

  “Then she should certainly take it.”

  “Excellent.” Derek nodded. “Now then, I have reread Lady Heloise’s letters and perused her itinerary. You have her photograph with you, I assume.”

  “I do.”

  “Very good.” Derek pulled a small notebook and a Baedeker guide from his coat pocket. “I have made a number of notes as to how to proceed.”

  “You made notes?”

  “I wished to organize my thoughts and our efforts.”

  She studied him closely. “You do not strike me as the sort of man who takes well to organization.”

  “Then I am delighted that I have surprised you,” he said in a pleasant manner. “In recent months I have seen the benefit of organization when one has something one wishes to accomplish quickly and efficiently.”

  “It’s most...admirable.” And shocking. Of all the things she expected from him, organization and efficiency were not among them.

  “Furthermore, we need a definite plan of action, unless you intend to simply wander the streets of Paris calling Lady Heloise’s name?”

  “No, of course not.” Although she really hadn’t given any consideration as to how to actually find her cousin.

  “I didn’t think so. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of devising a plan of sorts.” He glanced at her. “Do you have an idea?”

  “No.” She had no more than a vague thought in the back of her mind about making inquiries at places Heloise had mentioned in her letters. “Not yet.”

  “Should we wait until you do?”

  She did not for a moment believe the innocent note in his voice. “I suggest we follow your plan until such time as it needs revision.”

  “Very well then.” He flipped open his notebook. “Unfortunately, her itinerary strikes me as rather vague and a bit haphazard as to arrival dates and departures. Nor does it indicate which hotel she intended to stay in—”

  “Rather a serious omission—don’t you think?” she asked pointedly. “One would imagine such pertinent information would be included on an itinerary created by a travelers society and assistance agency.”

  “Itineraries change, India, as plans for travel progress,” he said, his attention never leaving his notebook. “In addition, people don’t always go where they’re expected to go. It’s part of the adventure, to head toward an unforeseen destination because it strikes you as interesting. Is the schedule your cousin left with you her final itinerary?”

  “I’m not sure.” Blast it all. India had scarcely given Heloise’s itinerary more than a second glance when her cousin had given it to her. Admittedly, that had been when Heloise had first announced her intention to travel. A scant two weeks later the older woman was off, and, while India had glanced at the places Heloise had intended to visit, she’d paid no notice whatsoever to the details of her lodging. “She did mention she would stay in Paris as long as it took to see everything she wished to see.”

  “That would have been good to know,” he said under his breath. “In her first letter from Paris, she says her room in ‘this grand hotel’ is more than adequate.”

  “Then obviously she was staying at the Grand Hotel. I suggest we make our way there and inquire after her.” India couldn’t quite keep the note of triumph out of her voice. While it was the logical place to start, it was also her suggestion.

  “I agree.” He smiled pleasantly. “Which Grand Hotel?”

  “What do you mean which Grand Hotel? The Grand Hotel.”

  “And herein lies our first problem.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see a problem. It seems very straightforward and sensible to me.”

  “Perhaps it would if you were more prepared.”

  She stared. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Did you bring a guidebook to Paris with you? Do you have a listing of hotels? Did you think to ask your cousin exactly where she planned to stay in Paris or anywhere else?”

  “No, but—”

  “I suggest you take a look at this.” He handed her the Baedeker.

  She took the book and opened it. “And what, pray tell, am I looking for?”

  “You’re looking for the Grand Hotel of course.” He paused. “You will also find the Grand Hotel du Louvre, the Grand Hotel de Port Mahon, the Grand Hotel Normandy, the Grand Hotel de Chateaudun, the Grand Hotel—”

  “How many Grand Hotels are there?”

  “I counted twenty-seven in the guidebook. I have made a list of each and every one.” He paused. “But I might have missed some.”

  “Good Lord.” She paged through the guide. “What utter insanity. How very...French!”

  “I daresay there are a few Grand Hotels in London, as well,” he observed mildly. It was most annoying.

  “A few is a far different matter than dozens! How can such a thing be permitted?”

  “I doubt it can be prevented.”

  “Even so—”

  “You must admit—it’s an excellent name for a hotel. It conjures up an impressive image of hospitality and service.”

  “They can’t all be grand,” she muttered, skimming the small, tight print.

  “Probably not, but I can’t imagine a hotel attracting much business by calling itself the Almost Grand Hotel or the Less Than Grand Hotel. And would you really wish to stay at lodgings called the Tiny, Trivial and Insignificant Hotel?”

  She closed the book and glared at him. “Now you’re being silly. And this is not the time.”

  “Indeed I am, and it’s the perfect time.” He put his notebook back in his pocket. “I am trying to impart a certain lightheartedness to what is surely going to be a very long afternoon. And more than likely, just the first.”

  “Well, I have no intention of being lighthearted.” She handed him the guide.

  “No.” He accepted the book and opened it. “I didn’t think you did.” He found the page he wanted, studied it for a moment, then shut the book smartly and replaced it in his pocket. “I suggest we start at the first Grand Hotel listed, the one that is simply the Grand Hotel, as it is one of the largest hotels in Paris.” He accepted his hat from the butler and stepped toward the door. “There is every possibility we will be lucky and find your cousin firmly established there with not a care in the world, having completely forgotten about details like correspondence.”

  “Do you really think so?” The sooner they found Heloise, the sooner India could return to her well-ordered existence.

  “I don’t know her as you do, but I do think it’s possible.” A footman opened the door, and Derek waved India through ahead of him. “Not a very likely possibility, but stranger things have happened.”

  “Yes, I suppose.” Stranger things certainly had. For one—India had never imagined she’d leave England at all, let alone travel to Paris to stay in a grand manor in the heart of the city with a dashing scoundrel for a host and an even bigger scoundrel by her side.

  “Cheer up, India,” Derek said. “Very nearly all the grand hotels are on the Right Bank.”

  “Are they near one another then?”

  “Not really.” He chuckled. “But at least the haystack hiding our needle is reduced a bit in size.”

  Derek hailed a cab and directed the driver to their first stop. Derek’s French was not as precise as hers but was less academic, friendlier perhaps. While she had no problem following the conve
rsation, she decided to allow him to do most of the talking. After all, he had experience visiting other countries whereas she had never stepped foot outside of England.

  Perhaps it was some misguided impulse on his part to share those days of his past travel or perhaps he was simply trying to be informative, but he spent the duration of their ride pointing out sights of questionable interest and expounding on the redesigning of the French capital that had begun some twenty or so years ago. From his tone, it was impossible to determine whether he approved of the changes in the city or not. But—in spite of her lack of interest in all things French—India rather liked the newly broadened boulevards and the impressive buildings that blended one into the next, their pale stone facades, matching ironwork and mansard roofs giving the impression of continuation, as if each side of the street was one endless structure. There was a sense of order here that she found both comforting and refreshing.

  The first Grand Hotel—the Grand Hotel—was as imposing as its name. It was the same architectural style as the other buildings she’d admired and took up an entire city block. The hotel was highly recommended by Baedeker, the guidebook listing it as one of the most impressive in the city with somewhere between six hundred and seven hundred rooms.

  They stepped into the lobby, and it struck India as more a palace than a hotel—not that she’d ever been in either—with a dazzling display of marble and crystal, painted decoration and gilt embellishment. Opulence and grandeur shimmered in the very air around them. This was a setting more befitting a dream than reality. It might well have taken one’s breath away if one was impressed by such an overt exhibit of extravagance and excess. India certainly wasn’t.

  “Extraordinary place, isn’t it?” Derek glanced around with a smile. “I read once that it was the largest hotel in the world when it first opened. It might still be.”

  “It certainly is grand,” she murmured.

  As was the clientele. Judging by the universal air of wealth and importance of the well-dressed guests, they obviously took these ostentatious surroundings as their due. India had never been concerned about fashion. Her serviceable gray wool dress was more than acceptable for her needs. That it was not the latest style had never bothered her. But for the first time in her life—amid the grandeur of the hotel lobby—India felt out of place and more than a little dowdy. As if she should have come in through a servants’ entrance and not the front doors. As much as she tried to dismiss the feeling she couldn’t quite manage. Derek, however, fit right in.

  She caught his arm. “I don’t think this is right,” she said in a low voice. “This type of hotel would never suit Heloise.”

  “Why not?” He glanced around the lobby. “I think it’s quite impressive.”

  “As well as quite expensive.” She shook her head. “The cost of a hotel like this would be well above my cousin’s resources.”

  Derek cast her a puzzled look. “Are you sure?”

  “Without question,” she said firmly. “This can’t possibly be the right Grand Hotel.”

  “Well, we are here now.” Derek nodded toward the registration counter. “The clerk on the end appears to have a good command of English. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll talk to him?”

  “Very well.” As there were no other women standing at the counter, it seemed a good idea. Besides, a well-dressed man like Derek would surely get more respect, and therefore more information, than an ordinary woman in serviceable gray wool. “Don’t forget the photograph.” She pulled it out of her bag and handed it to him.

  Derek took it, strode off and India tried not to feel like she was somewhere she shouldn’t be, an imposter who didn’t belong. It was nonsense, of course. She raised her chin and adopted an air of mild disdain. As if she was neither aware of how out of place she appeared nor did she care. Although for some unknown reason, she did.

  Derek returned quickly. “He didn’t recognize her. Apparently all older Englishwomen look alike.” He handed her the photograph. “And she’s not registered.”

  “Well, was she registered six weeks ago?” Goodness, did the man not even know what he should and shouldn’t ask?

  He paused. “The clerk said the hotel prides itself on preserving the privacy of its guests, so he couldn’t say.”

  “He couldn’t say or wouldn’t say?”

  He grimaced. “He said hotel policy forbids it.”

  “Did you tell him a woman is missing? Did you tell him her last known location was his hotel? That if she was not found, his hotel might well be held to blame? Or, at the very least, subject to gossip and public scrutiny? I can’t imagine any hotel would wish to be known as the last place a missing Englishwoman was seen.”

  Derek’s brow furrowed. “That’s not entirely accurate, India. We don’t know which grand hotel your cousin’s letter referred to.”

  “He doesn’t know that.”

  “India Prendergast!” He gasped in mock horror. “I never expected you of all people to advocate deception.”

  “Oh, come now, Derek.” She stared in disbelief. Certainly Derek had admitted right from the start that he had no particular investigative skills, but surely this was little more than common sense. “Have you never read a novel of detection? Of mystery?”

  It was his turn to stare. “Have you ever dealt with a French hotel clerk?”

  “Did he frighten you?”

  “No, he did not frighten me.” The muscles of Derek’s jaw twitched.

  “Then go right back there and demand to see the register. Or insist he look at the register.” She thought for a moment. “And give him money.”

  “Money?”

  “Money.” She nodded. “Money often changes hands when one is seeking information.”

  “I had no idea,” he said wryly. “Do you have an amount in mind?”

  “No, but surely you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

  “Bribed someone to get information he’s not at liberty to disclose? Surprisingly enough, I’ve never needed to.”

  “That is surprising, and I wouldn’t call it a bribe. More of a...oh, a gratuity.”

  “How much of a gratuity would you recommend?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Ten francs.”

  “Ten francs? That’s rather exorbitant, don’t you think? My pockets are not endless.”

  “Haven’t you collected dues this month?” she said under her breath.”

  His brows drew together in confusion. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She waved away his question. She had already decided it was best not to let him know of her suspicions.

  “I could get a room here for ten francs.” He paused. “Well, half a room.”

  “Then it should do the trick.” She waved him off. “Go on.”

  He heaved a resigned sigh.

  “And don’t forget to mention Heloise was last seen here. That’s very important in terms of encouraging his cooperation.”

  “I shall keep that in mind,” he muttered and returned to the desk clerk. India didn’t actually see money change hands, but the desk clerk left for what was probably only a few minutes but seemed much longer. At last he returned and spoke briefly with Derek. Derek nodded and started toward her, the expression on his face annoyingly noncommittal.

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Yes.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the door.

  India’s heart jumped. “Tell me.”

  “In the last six weeks, this hotel—as well as every other hotel in Paris—has been full to bursting with guests.” He hailed a cab. “A shockingly large percentage of which have been English or American. Our friend at the front desk apparently can’t tell the difference. There is a world exposition here, you know.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He leveled her a dispa
raging look and handed her into the cab. “A great many other people do, including, I believe, your cousin.”

  India nodded. “That is one of the reasons she planned on staying for a time in Paris.”

  “She and everyone else. Although the desk clerk says he did not see her name in the register, it is entirely possible he is mistaken. And just as possible he’s not.”

  India’s heart sank. The news was not unexpected. She didn’t think they would be so lucky as to find Heloise the first place they looked. She forced an unconcerned note to her voice. “Then it’s on to the next Grand Hotel.”

  “I’ve already given directions to the driver.” He paused. “How long did your cousin plan to stay in Paris?”

  “She wasn’t entirely sure. Her plans were—”

  “Vague? Indecisive? Undetermined?”

  “No,” she said sharply. “Flexible.”

  “Flexible?” Skepticism rang in his voice.

  “Yes. She had never been to a world exposition before, and she fully intended to see everything there was to see. As well as everything there is to see in Paris. She has always dreamed of traveling, and Paris is one of the places she most wanted to see. She is quite fond of art as well and planned to spend a great deal of time at the Louvre. She also wanted to climb that iron monstrosity that is now towering over the city.”

  “Monsieur Eiffel’s tower? You don’t like it?”

  “I think it’s hideous.” She shuddered.

  He chuckled. “In that you’re not alone. There’s a great deal of debate about the tower. I, for one, like it.”

  “Why?”

  “First of all, it’s an impressive feat of engineering, a symbol of progress—of how far man has come in the world if you will. Secondly—it’s the tallest structure on earth, also most impressive. And third—I like how something made of iron can look so light and delicate.”

  She stared at him. “That’s rather fanciful of you.”