The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen

by Victoria Alexander

  “Actually,” Derek said slowly, “I hadn’t considered any of that, but I suppose it is worth noting.”

  “As you’ve become quite fond of her.” Val paused. “No, that’s not entirely accurate. I’ve become quite fond of her, oddly enough. You like her.”

  “She’s easy to like.”

  “No, she’s not.” Val snorted. “Although I will say she seems to have loosened, if you will, during her stay here. She is not stretched as taut as she first was.”

  “I believe her stay in Paris has been something of a revelation for her.”

  “Paris will do that.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps it’s your influence.”

  “Possible, I suppose. We are entirely different creatures.” And yet he was hard-pressed to imagine his life continuing without her.

  “You’re afraid you’ll lose her if you tell her about her cousin, aren’t you?”

  “That’s shockingly perceptive of you.”

  “It’s the desk.” Val grinned, then sobered. “I’ve never known you to be a coward.”

  “I’ve never had so much at stake before.”

  Val stared. “I’m right then. You do have feelings for her.”

  “So it would appear.” He shrugged in a helpless manner. “I want to protect her, Val, and I’m not sure I can. Not from this.”

  “Regardless, if you care for her, it’s even more important that you tell her what you’ve discovered. If you don’t, it will be that much worse when she finds out.”

  “Worse?” Derek said sharply. “How could it possibly be worse than discovering her only family, the woman who has been as much a mother to her as a cousin, the woman who gave her a home when she needed one, has concocted an elaborate scheme to deceive her?”

  “Because as hard as that will be for her to learn—” Val met his brother’s gaze “—she will never forgive you for knowing and not telling her.”

  For a long moment the brothers stared in silence.

  “You’re right. I hate to say it, but you’re right. However...” Derek thought for a moment. “I believe it’s best not to tell her any of this until I know where Lady Heloise is. Right now, regardless of how much we’ve learned, there are still more questions than answers. For her to know Lady Heloise concocted all this but not to know where she is will only increase India’s concern. She’s likely to think all sorts of dire things.”

  “Admittedly, it might be wiser to wait.” Val grimaced. “Or it could be an unforgivable mistake. I still think you need to tell her everything you’ve found thus far.”

  “If you were in my shoes, would you?”

  “It’s the wisest course but...” Val shook his head. “I don’t know. I am eternally grateful I am not in your shoes.”

  “The ball is the day after tomorrow,” Derek said. “Mother says India has never been to a ball.”

  Val’s brow rose. “What, never?”

  “Apparently not. I would hate to ruin it for her. And by then we might have Lady Heloise’s location, as well.” He drew a deep breath. “But regardless, I’ll tell her after the ball.”

  Val drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the desk. “What kind of woman has never been to a ball?”

  “The kind who never had a season, who never came out in society. The kind who feels it’s her responsibility to earn her own way, who believes things like balls and social events to be frivolous and silly.” Derek’s jaw tightened. “The kind who believes the woman who raised her has a limited income.”

  “Lady Heloise?”

  Derek nodded. “According to my information, she has a substantial fortune that India is unaware of.”

  Val stared at his brother. “Lady Heloise appears to have a lot of secrets.”

  “And I am not going to be the one to reveal those secrets.” Learning Lady Heloise not only deceived her about her alleged travels but that she had lied to India her entire life might well devastate her. India did not trust easily, and Derek did not want to be the one to shatter the trust she had in her guardian. “But I’m afraid you’re right. If she learns any of this and then finds out I knew and didn’t tell her...”

  “Nasty bit of business, Derek.” Sympathy shone in Val’s eyes. “She may never forgive you if you tell her—blame the messenger and all. And she may never forgive you if you don’t.”

  * * *

  ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH. In spite of the sense of looming disaster, Derek joined the rest of the house for dinner. India made an appearance, as well, and he could not help but wonder—or perhaps hope—that she missed him as much as he missed her. Still, she made no effort to speak with him privately nor did he. Apparently he truly was a coward when it came to her.

  Dinner had the feel of a party to it. Mother played her accustomed role of perfect hostess to the hilt, encouraging and directing conversation around the table. Much of the talk had to do with preparations for the upcoming ball, and Mother made certain the Greers and India understood how delighted she was that they would be in attendance. Derek wasn’t sure if that was as much for the older couple’s benefit as for India’s. And when his mother wasn’t steering the discussion, his stepfather was. Westvale had a heretofore unknown interest in medieval architecture and had apparently read one of the professor’s books. His stepfather also had the unexpected ability to make such an obscure topic interesting for those who were not as well versed in it as Professor Greer. Val took it upon himself to flirt enthusiastically with Estelle and attempted to do so with India, as well. Estelle delighted in his attention, and even India seemed amused. In spite of his best intentions, Derek spent most of the meal studying her.

  India was still wearing one of the dresses Estelle had loaned her—Mother had mentioned India’s new clothes were to be delivered in the next few days, thanks to her influence and the added incentive of his stepfather’s fortune. Derek realized his brother was right about India. She was more at ease than she had been when they’d first started out on the quest to find Lady Heloise. Would that vanish when she knew the truth? He still had two more days until he would be forced to find out.

  Through the course of the meal, every now and then when Derek’s gaze returned to India, she would be watching him. Her expression gave no indication of what she was thinking but her gaze would meet his with a sort of bemused acknowledgment. And what was surely a promise, although admittedly that might have only been in his head.

  If this was the woman he wanted, and with every passing day, any doubt about that faded, then he needed to do something. Something romantic and irresistible. And he needed to do it before he told her about her cousin. If he didn’t want to lose her, in the next two days, he would have to win her heart. And offer her his. A grand romantic gesture was obviously called for.

  By the time dinner had ended Derek had acknowledged what he had already suspected. For good or ill, he had fallen in love with the indomitable Miss India Prendergast.

  And he had the power to ruin her life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  This guide would be remiss if it failed to mention the necessary yet distasteful topic of money. As there is no certain method to safeguard one’s traveling funds against thieves, highwaymen, gypsies, scoundrels and one’s own incompetence, we shall not attempt to provide one. Our apologies.

  —The Lady Travelers Society Guide

  “GOOD DAY, INDIA,” Derek said, stepping out from behind the grouping of potted palms that flanked each side of the closed ballroom doors.

  “Derek!” India pulled up short, her breath caught in her throat. “I didn’t see you.”

  “I was trying to find a button that popped off my coat and rolled away under the foliage.” He chuckled. “Although I suppose I could have been hiding.”

  She raised a brow. “From me?”

  “I would hate to scare you away.”

 
“Nonsense. I see nothing to be scared about. Not really.” Although she had been something of a coward. She needed to apologize and perhaps confess or whatever else might be necessary to set things right with Derek. Last night was the first time she’d seen him for more than a moment since their altercation at the Eiffel Tower. Thanks to Lady Westvale, India had had barely any time in the last few days to dwell on what had passed between them. Still, their quarrel, as well as the kisses they’d shared, refused to be banished from her mind, especially late at night when sleep eluded her. And when she did sleep, her slumber was filled with dreams of flying like a bird over the city of Paris, or the feel of his lips pressing against hers and the distinct longing for more, or the hurt in his blue eyes.

  She never should have told him she didn’t trust him. Her heart twisted every time she remembered the look on his face. If she believed in him—and she did—surely she trusted him, as well. Pity, she hadn’t realized that sooner. At least she now knew she was wrong. Now she wondered what else she was wrong about. “Although I suspect matters like this are always difficult.”

  “Matters like this?”

  “I have been the worst sort of coward, Derek.” She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze firmly, ignoring the way her heart beat faster in her chest. “It has always been difficult for me to admit when I’m wrong—”

  “As you are never wrong.”

  “Apparently, in that, too, I’m wrong. It is something of a revelation.” She wasn’t exactly sure what to say next even though she’d rehearsed this over and over. “Paris seems to be fraught with all sorts of revelations for me.”

  “Being in unfamiliar surroundings can have that effect on people.”

  “Quite possible I suppose.”

  “I must say you look lovely today.” His gaze skimmed over her in an approving manner. “This new way of wearing your hair is most becoming.”

  “How kind of you to say.” Suzette continued to do her hair in a softer style that framed her face. India had to admit she rather liked it.

  “Is that one of the new dresses?”

  “It is.”

  He grinned. “My mother has excellent taste.”

  “And I am delighted to be the beneficiary of it.” India glanced down at the new dress and smiled with satisfaction. “It arrived this morning.”

  She couldn’t remember ever having a dress that was as lovely as it was practical. The new day dress was a fetching salmon color, with a draped overskirt and a touch of lace at the neck, wrists and waist. It was far and away the frilliest thing she’d ever owned but not nearly as fussy as Estelle’s gowns. India still found it hard to believe, but Estelle was right. There was nothing like a new dress to make you feel, well, new. And not the least bit ordinary.

  India had been assisting Lady Westvale with preparations for the ball all morning. Preparations that had come to an abrupt halt the moment several of India’s new dresses were delivered. Derek’s mother had insisted India try each one on before they did anything else. The older woman had been very much like a child with a new toy at Christmas. India wasn’t at all sure how she felt about being a new toy, but she’d been nearly as excited as her ladyship.

  As much as she had tried to rein in Lady Westvale’s enthusiastic assault on the dressmakers of Paris, even India was no match for the older lady’s resolve. The more India had protested, the more determined Lady Westvale became until India finally realized the only way to curb the lady’s excesses was to capitulate. Still, the end result was four day dresses, three dresses suitable for evening, two dresses for traveling and a ball gown. None of which, her ladyship had insisted, would do by themselves, and the appropriate shoes, hats, gloves and everything else Lady Westvale deemed necessary was ordered or purchased. And all, India suspected, at exorbitant prices as Lady Westvale wanted everything as quickly as possible. India could never repay her, not merely for her expenditures but for her kindness.

  “But I’m afraid your mother was entirely too generous. I can’t even imagine the total expenditure.” India shook her head. “I can never repay her.”

  “Nor does she wish to be repaid,” Derek said firmly. “She has had a great deal of fun, and I am grateful to you for giving that to her. And grateful as well that you have kept her occupied.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “There is nothing more dangerous than my mother with time on her hands.”

  “I can imagine,” India murmured.

  The past three days with his mother had confirmed that India was right about the kind of man Derek truly was. Certainly one should take what a man’s mother said about him with a grain of salt, but Lady Westvale was far too clever to simply detail Derek’s good points. Instead she regaled India with stories about Derek and Lord Brookings’s boyhood. Stories about the time Derek had talked his brother into giving him his collection of foreign coins to add to his own savings so the boys could purchase a horse that was being mistreated. The horse had been old and had died some months later, but both boys learned that the reward of helping those who cannot help themselves was as much for those who give as those who receive. Or the time he had been forced against his will to ask a less-than-pretty wallflower to dance, only to discover she was quite nice and very sweet when one looked past her plain appearance. That, too, was a lesson that things aren’t always as they appear that Lady Westvale said her sons had never forgotten.

  India wasn’t sure how it happened, but she found herself telling Derek’s mother things she had never told anyone. During one of her dress fittings, Lady Westvale was curious as to why India thought herself ordinary in appearance. Without thinking, India told her that during her school years, there was a young man who would come to escort his sister home for holidays. While India had thought it her secret, apparently some of the other girls noticed that India had a crush on the young gentleman, and she overheard them say the youthful Lord So-and-So would never give someone as ordinary as India Prendergast so much as a second look. Why, she’d be lucky ever to find a husband. Odd, that until Lady Westvale had asked, India would have said she didn’t remember the incident at all. The older lady had pointed out, whether India recognized it or not, she was no longer ordinary but rather striking in appearance with her green eyes and ripe figure and, of course, well-fitting, stylish clothing. Lady Westvale had also noted that, while she herself had been considered a beauty in her youth, when she was a young girl, she was more than a little plump. Some of us, she’d said to India, blossom at our own pace.

  When they had stopped at a charming café—but then Lady Westvale had declared nearly all the cafés in Paris to be charming—for tea and she had again brought up her desire for her sons to find love, India had mentioned in an offhand manner that she was not especially enamored of love and considered romance a silly notion. She’d also confessed that her parents’ union had been considered a love match, a great romance that had ultimately led them to abandon home and family to wander the world together in search of adventure, in the guise of spreading the word of God. The older woman agreed that abandoning one’s responsibilities to a child was selfish and unforgivable but that could not be blamed on love. The fault she’d said, quoting Shakespeare—apparently it ran in the family—is not in our stars but in ourselves, and added that the very best thing about love was that it knows no bounds but is open and endless. Indeed, when one has opened one’s heart to one person it’s easy to love others, as well. Before India could respond, Lady Westvale had gone on to another topic, but her words lingered in India’s head.

  “What were you wrong about this time, India?” Derek asked abruptly.

  “You,” she said without thinking, then plunged ahead. “Or rather me. When I said I didn’t trust you—” she shook her head “—I shouldn’t have said it as it isn’t true.”

  “It isn’t?” Caution sounded in his voice.

  “I didn’t realize it at the time b
ut...” She met his gaze directly. “If I believe that you, at heart, are a good, decent man, if I have faith that you can indeed reform, and be a better man, the man I think you want to be, then, whether I wish to acknowledge it or not, I do trust you.” She drew a steadying breath. “I am truly sorry that I did not say so when I should have.”

  He stared at her. “I see.”

  “And I am indeed a coward, not only because I refuse to face that I am—or have been of late—frequently wrong...” In for a penny, she supposed. She braced herself. “But because I like you, Derek Saunders. I like you a great deal, and I find it somewhat terrifying.”

  “I—”

  She held out her hand to stop him. “I didn’t expect to like you at all. Nor did I ever expect to trust you even the tiniest bit.” The words seemed to come of their own accord. “And I liked kissing you. But as much as I liked kissing you, I liked you kissing me more. While I would prefer to think that the enjoyment of it had more to do with who you were kissing than the fact that you no doubt have had a great deal of practice—”

  “I can assure you—”

  “I would not be averse to you kissing me again.” She raised her chin. “Frequently and with a great deal of enthusiasm.” She ignored the heat washing up her face. How could she have said that? What was she thinking?

  “I see,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Goodness, Derek.” She huffed. “You cannot continue to respond with ‘I see.’ That’s a most unsatisfactory answer. It says nothing at all. What exactly do you see?”

  “I see that what you are trying to say is more or less in the way of an apology.”

  “It is an apology, I thought that was apparent. And quite sincere, too, I might add.”

  “As well as a confession.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps,” she said weakly.

  “There is no perhaps about it.” He stepped closer and stared down at her. “You said you liked kissing me, you liked my kissing you and you would not be disinclined to do so again. I’m fairly certain that’s a confession.”