She laughed.
He settled back in his seat and studied her. “Why did a woman like you agree to host an excursion like this?”
“As you just noted, I like adventure.”
“Shepherding a group of women and their daughters on an abbreviated tour to a handful of countries scarcely strikes me as adventure.”
“Adventure, Mr. Montague, is where you find it. Who knows what might happen between here and there.” She thought for a moment. “We could encounter famous personages—someone like Mr. Haggard himself—on the boat crossing the channel.”
“Which might not be an adventure so much as an interesting moment I would say.”
“Oh, then you’re hoping for grand adventure.” Amusement underscored her words. “Well then, instead of a famous author we might encounter a...a princess. Yes, that’s good. A princess in disguise fleeing England and marriage to a horrible beast of a man, who might throw herself on your mercy and beg for you to help her. That would certainly constitute adventure.”
He laughed. “Now, I think you’ve gone a bit too far.”
“Goodness, Mr. Montague.” She sighed. “You are a difficult man to please. First, you think my suggestion of an adventure isn’t truly an adventure and then you think my next idea is entirely too much. Let me think.” She tapped her forefinger on the table thoughtfully. “You must agree, travel itself is fraught with adventure.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“Simply setting foot in a place one has never been before is exciting and exhilarating. Even when difficulties arise, there is an element of adventure. Why, any one of the trains we will be taking could break down and we could be stranded. And perhaps forced to survive by our wits alone. Which would be something of a problem but would certainly be an adventure nonetheless. One never knows what is around the next corner.”
“Indeed.” He nodded. “Still, this tour does seem a bit, oh, tame for you.”
“Ah.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “My reputation precedes me, I see. And here I was hoping legendary was the worst of it.”
“Come now, Lady Bascombe, you can’t expect me to entrust my dear sister and niece into the hands of anyone whose background I have not thoroughly checked.”
“Then you no doubt know all there is to know about me.”
“I doubt if there is anyone who knows all there is to know about you, Lady Bascombe.”
“With any luck at all, Mr. Montague.” A knowing smile played on her lips.
“But I confess I am still puzzled as to why you agreed to host this tour.”
“It’s really quite simple,” she said smoothly. “One of the founders of the Lady Travelers Society—Mrs. Persephone Fitzhew-Wellmore—is my godmother. This trip was in danger of falling apart and, as American lady travelers are seen as a lucrative prospective clientele, my godmother was quite eager to see it proceed as planned. Apparently, one thing that appeals to Americans is the presence of a fellow traveler with a title.”
“True enough.” He nodded. It really was an excellent business strategy and quite perceptive given his own business dealings with Americans. There was nothing more impressive to them than a lady or lord attached to someone’s name.
“One thing led to another and here I am.” She paused. “As fate would have it, I was planning to travel to Venice in the near future so this was not the least bit inconvenient.”
“Still, leading a tour is not the sort of thing that comes to mind for a woman like yourself.”
“Hosting a tour, Mr. Montague,” she said and frowned. “And I do wish you would stop saying that. That ‘woman like you’ nonsense. I am not a stock character in a drawing room comedy.”
“I do apologize. I didn’t mean—”
“I would do anything for my godmother. She has been a rock of support for me in recent years. More so than anyone else I can name.”
“Fair-weather friends I suspect?”
She heaved a sigh. “Mr. Montague—”
“Why Venice?”
“Why not?”
“Have you ever been to Venice?”
“Goodness, Mr. Montague. Hasn’t everyone?”
He chuckled. “You’re evading my question. And it was a remarkably innocent question. Not one I would imagine anyone would ignore.”
“I’m not ignoring it. I simply find it curious that someone who has had my background thoroughly checked would not know the answer to that. And I think it’s my turn in this fascinating conversation of ours to ask you a question.”
“My life is an open book.”
“No one’s life is an open book, Mr. Montague.” The slightest hard note edged her words. “We all have secrets. Even those closest to you have secrets. Only a fool thinks they don’t.”
“Oh.” He wasn’t quite sure what to say, given he did indeed have a secret of sorts. “Perhaps you’re right. Although I can assure you whatever secrets I harbor are minimal and barely worth the effort to keep.”
“Your sister said you’re financing her trip as a bribe.” She propped her elbow on the table, rested her chin in her hand and smiled into his eyes. “What is said bribe for?”
“My sister was just being annoying.” He drew his brows together. “Roz takes great joy in annoying me. She is five years my senior and has always delighted in doing whatever she can to set my teeth on edge.”
“So it’s not a bribe?”
“No,” he said firmly. “It’s simply in gratitude for a favor. Saying it was a bribe was her convoluted idea of a joke. And not especially amusing either.” He shook his head. “One would think as an adult with a grown daughter she would set such childish pursuits aside.”
“Some of us never quite grow up.” She smiled in a manner that struck him as a touch wistful. It did the oddest things to his stomach. “Have you?”
“Now, that is an interesting question.”
“You wished for interesting conversation, Mr. Montague. I can think of no more interesting question. Or answer. Of course, if you prefer not to answer...”
He laughed. “I’m not quite sure why you asked the question.”
“Because, Mr. Montague.” Her gaze met his. “I have known any number of charming, handsome men with their slightly wicked manners, the suggestion in the tone of their voices that indicates what they are saying goes far beyond their words and the look in their eyes not unlike a connoisseur evaluating his next morsel. I am neither fooled by them, nor am I the least bit interested.”
He stared at her. Roz was right—his concerted effort to be charming had perhaps gone further than he intended. Why, she didn’t think he was at all the serious, responsible man that he was but rather some kind of rake or rogue or scoundrel. This was not the way to earn her trust. Still, he rather liked it.
He tried and failed to keep a smile from his face. “I shall keep that in mind, Lady Bascombe.”
“Furthermore, Mr. Montague—” she met his gaze directly “—most men of that nature are not quite as obvious about it.”
“I wasn’t...” He chuckled in a wry manner. “I simply thought a woman like...a woman who has had an exciting life would be more inclined to—” he shrugged helplessly “—like a man who was more...likable than I usually am.”
Her eyes widened and she straightened. “You wanted me to like you?”
He nodded.
“Why?” Suspicion sounded in her voice.
“Because you may well be the most interesting woman I have ever met.” Even as he said the words he realized he had indeed been fascinated by her ever since he’d first read the dossier. Regardless, his goal was not to win her affections, simply her friendship. And that was a means to an end, nothing more. “And I hope to be friends.”
She sat back in her seat and stared at him. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“Yo
u must admit this confession of mine is extremely charming.”
“Nor am I sure what I believe.”
He arched a brow. “You don’t trust me?”
“Trust needs to be earned. And I don’t know you well enough to trust you.”
“Perhaps by the time we reach Venice you will.”
“And will I like you, as well?”
“Without question.” He grinned and rose to his feet. That would do for now. It was an excellent start. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall leave you to your consideration of our journey.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze returned to the papers on the table. “I am determined to make certain nothing goes awry,” she said, and it struck Dante her words were more for herself than for him. Perhaps she was not as confident as she appeared.
“Please feel free to call on me at any time should you need my assistance in any way.”
“Your offer is most appreciated but I doubt your assistance will be necessary.”
“As you pointed out—one never knows what might be around the next corner.” He paused. Nothing in her dossier had indicated she was a well-seasoned traveler in spite of her current facade of competence, although admittedly that was not the kind of information he had requested. Still, something had struck him a few minutes ago that he had paid no attention. Perhaps the delightful Willie Bascombe was not as she appeared. “One more thing.” He leaned forward, braced his hands on the table and gazed into her eyes.
Her eyes widened but she did not shrink from his direct gaze. “And what might that be?”
“The map you are so dutifully studying.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “It’s upside down.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THERE WAS NOTHING like maneuvering nine people through the complexities of claiming luggage upon arrival in Paris at the salle des bagages and the subsequent annoying inspection by customs agents to make a woman feel not merely efficient but supremely confident. It was not easy, especially as everyone rudely insisted on speaking in French. Perhaps language barriers were among the reasons why she and George had never traveled beyond England’s shores. Although it was more likely attributable to finances. No doubt they would have traveled someday—if only to escape their creditors.
Still, if asked, Willie would have said she did indeed speak French, more or less. Why, she had studied the language for years in school, as did everyone else she knew, and could say la plume de ma tante as well as anyone. But apparently when one was actually in France, one’s French was decidedly more less than more.
Regardless, with her Baedeker’s guide in one hand, her notebook in the other and the wherewithal to hire a small army of porters, Willie had managed to dispatch their group via three separate cabs to the Grand Hotel. Her charges had heeded Miss Granville’s advice on limiting the amount of their luggage given the brief length of time they would stay in any one place. They had also forgone the inclusion of ladies’ maids in their party, apparently standard guidance from the Lady Travelers Society. It made a great deal of sense in terms of expenditures and practicality. Every hotel they would stay in provided maids for their first-class guests. The Grand Hotel was no exception.
Upon their arrival nearly an hour ago, all the members of their party had been seen to their respective suites with assurances their every need would be met. Willie’s admiration of Miss Granville’s efficiency reluctantly notched upward. Who would have imagined Willie Bascombe would ever be impressed by efficiency? Apparently, Miss Granville, and her employer, were skilled in making the impossible possible. Willie had been aware, of course, of the Paris Exposition—why, everyone in the world was talking about the massive iron tower symbol of the fair—but she had never considered what that might mean to the availability of hotel rooms in the city. Indeed, she was fairly certain if she were not traveling under the auspices of Mr. Forge’s Lady Travelers Society, she would be hard pressed to find any available rooms at all let alone suites in the luxurious Grand Hotel.
They had arrived at an appropriate hour for a civilized dinner but everyone agreed—given that the proper tea service on the train from Calais had been surprisingly good in both quality and quantity—that no more than a light supper was required. Furthermore, they would all much rather spend their first night in Paris viewing the illumination of the Eiffel Tower.
Willie now awaited the others, resisting the urge to tap her foot impatiently on the highly polished floor of the opulent crystal, marble and gilded lobby and trying very hard to look serene and unconcerned instead of annoyed by their tardiness. They did have a schedule to maintain after all. Willie could not remember a point in her life before now when she was not perpetually late but if she could manage to appear promptly—so could everyone else. Apparently, a desire for punctuality went hand in hand with the acceptance of responsibility. Besides, as the idea for viewing the illumination had been embraced with wholehearted American enthusiasm, one did have to wonder where on earth everyone was. If they didn’t leave soon, they would miss the initial lighting, which was reportedly quite a spectacular moment.
At the very least, she expected Dante to arrive at the appointed time. It was difficult to continue to think of him as Mr. Montague even if she was not entirely ready to address him aloud by his first name. It would give the man all sorts of ideas she was not prepared to give him. At least not yet. Regardless, she could forgive him even if he decided to forgo the evening altogether. The poor man had had a rough go of it on their crossing of the channel. The faintest tinge of green had continued to color his complexion on the train from Calais and he’d been remarkably quiet, as well. No doubt if one was struck by mal de mer, the rocking motion of a train probably did not ease one’s discomfort. It was impossible not to feel sorry for him.
Besides, he deserved a certain measure of lenience. If Dante Montague was truly trying to earn her friendship, he was going about it in a clever way. He could have made more of an issue over the silly problem with the map. And really, how absurd was it that one could get to the age of thirty and never have had to study a map before? At least a map that wasn’t in the pages of a dreadfully dull book of geography or used to illustrate the history of some long-ago conflict, and she’d avoided those whenever possible. No, the man had simply pointed out her error, straightened the map and taken his leave, requiring no explanation from her whatsoever. It was rather gallant of him really, especially as she had no explanation that didn’t sound completely incompetent.
She spotted him crossing the lobby toward her and adopted a pleasant smile. It wasn’t the least bit difficult. After all, he obviously liked her and had admitted he wanted her to like him. It was at once flattering—what woman didn’t want a man to put forth some effort to gain her favor—and rather endearing. Still, she was not sure what to make of Dante Montague. She knew nothing about him other than he was good to his sister, which did speak well of him. The fact that he carried a valise implied he was a man of business or the law. Yet his manner was no different than most of the wealthy, spoiled bon vivants in her previous circle of friends. He was a dashing, likable man of some mystery and all the more intriguing for it.
“Lady Bascombe.” A broad smile stretched across his face as if he were genuinely pleased to see her, even if they had only parted a mere hour ago. “I cannot believe any woman can manage to look so refreshed after such a short respite.”
“How perfectly charming of you to say, Mr. Montague.” She returned his smile, surprised to note she was as pleased to see him as he appeared to see her. Obviously the man’s campaign was working. “One does try to be swift when one is engaged in travel and hoping to see all there is to see.”
One also tries to steal at least a moment in which to regain one’s strength. Willie had collapsed on her bed for a quarter hour and then an excellent maid had assisted her with her hair and dress. It had been a long time since she’d had such a busy day.
Traveling was far more wearing than she’d expected.
“I doubt that we can possibly see all there is to see in Paris in the four days we’ve allotted to the city.”
“Goodness, no. There is a great deal of interest to see in Paris.” Her Baedeker claimed a stay of two to three weeks was barely sufficient to acquire a superficial taste of what Paris had to offer. “But we shall do the best we can with the time we have.” Good Lord, she sounded like a governess. She peered around him. “Do you think the others will be joining us soon? I would hate to miss the illumination.”
“About that.” He gestured at the exit. “We really should be going.”
“We cannot leave without the rest of our party. It would be extremely rude and quite unforgivable.” What on earth was he thinking? She crossed her arms over her chest. “The group decided going to the illumination was what everyone wished to do tonight. All were in agreement and adamant about it. I must say, it was most democratic.”
“The influence of the Americans no doubt.”
“It was not my idea nor is it on the schedule. However—” she drew her brows together “—now that it is on the schedule, we should adhere to it.”
“What was on the schedule? Before the illumination I mean,” he added.
“Nothing.” She huffed. “Since it was a long day of travel, it was thought best not to plan anything for tonight.”
“Excellent.”
“It’s not the least bit excellent.” It was all she could do to keep from stamping her foot in frustration. It did seem that if the group decided to do something—whether that was taking in a sight or anything else—members of said group should appear when they said they would. “It’s most annoying. Our entire itinerary has been well thought out.”
“Still, one might think a certain flexibility—”
“The schedule, Mr. Montague, was changed on the trip from Calais due to the wishes of all involved.” There was that governess again. Where did she come from? “Your sister and the others agreed that seeing the illumination of Mr. Eiffel’s tower would be a grand way to spend the first night of our travels. It was a most passionate discussion, although I believe you might have been napping at the time.”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Larceny With a Dashing Stranger Page 7
