The Lady Travelers Guide to Larceny With a Dashing Stranger

by Victoria Alexander

  “Regardless, it’s water under the bridge now,” she said blithely, surprised to note it really was over and done with.

  “Still, I regret I wasn’t there.” Sincerity sounded in his voice. “Difficult times are when we most need friends. And I have always considered us friends.”

  She studied him curiously. Val had always been friendly enough and wildly flirtatious toward her but in the manner of good fun rather than expecting anything to come of it. Of all the people she had expected to remain her friend after George’s death, she would not have put Percival St. James at the top of the list. It was rather nice to realize that in that she was apparently wrong. “Thank you, Val.”

  “I find nothing more attractive than a man who admits when he’s wrong,” Jane said to Marian.

  Val cast her a grateful look. “Lady Bascombe once gave me a piece of profound advice I have never forgotten.”

  “Did I?” That certainly didn’t sound like her.

  “I could use a bit of profound advice.” Marian fluttered her lashes. “Won’t you share with us?” She glanced at Willie. “Unless Willie minds, of course.”

  “Not at all.” At least she hoped she didn’t mind but, as Willie had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, she braced herself.

  “It was at a party if I recall correctly. She said—” he turned to Willie and met her gaze directly “—it’s pointless to mourn those things we can do nothing about. Those things that were not perhaps meant to be. Far wiser to move on.”

  “My, that is profound.” Willie couldn’t remember ever having said such a thing. Still, it was at a party and one says so many things at parties although they were rarely profound. If Val believed she had said it, well, why on earth should she correct him? Besides, she could have said it and it was quite delightful to be thought of as profound.

  “Have you?” The serious look in his eyes belied the light tone in his voice. “Moved on that is.”

  Without warning, Dante popped into her mind. She smiled. “Why, yes, Val, I believe I have.”

  “A new arrival I see.” Rosalind sailed onto the terrace. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

  Val stood at once. “I’m not sure so obviously we have not.”

  Rosalind’s brow arched upward. “Because you would never have forgotten meeting a woman as charming and delightful as myself?”

  “Exactly.” He grinned.

  “Rosalind,” Willie began, “allow me to introduce an old friend of mine, the Marquess—”

  “Of Brookings.” Rosalind’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Percival St. James. Your mother was French. Your father, the previous marquess, charming man by the way, married Celia Saunders, a delightful woman who is now married to the Marquess of Westvale.”

  “This is his villa,” Marian said helpfully.

  Rosalind continued without pause. “You have a grand house in London, another in Paris and an estate in the country—I forget exactly where.”

  Jane snorted in disbelief.

  “Your stepbrother is heir to the Earl of Danby and recently married a woman no one knows much about although she seems respectable enough.” Rosalind drew her brows together. “Related to Lady Heloise Snuggs, I believe, who also recently married. You, however, have yet to wed. Your fortune is substantial, your heritage excellent, your reputation is not quite as scandalous as it once was—”

  “It’s not?” Val adopted a shocked look Willie didn’t believe for a moment. “Are you certain?”

  “Quite.” A smile tugged at the corners of Rosalind’s mouth.

  Val shook his head mournfully. “I shall have to do something about that.”

  Willie choked back a laugh.

  “So, my lord, do tell me.” Rosalind pinned him with a firm look. “Why aren’t you married?”

  He considered her cautiously. “Who are you?”

  Rosalind extended her hand. “Rosalind, Countess of Richfield.”

  “That explains it, then.” He grinned and took her hand.

  “Does it?” Jane said under her breath.

  “Apparently.” Marian considered Rosalind with renewed respect.

  “Lady Richfield is well-known for knowing everything about everyone,” Val said.

  “How charming of you to say. It’s a gift.” Rosalind shrugged but appeared pleased.

  “And I believe we have met although how I could have forgotten—”

  “One meets so many people.” She waved off his comment. “We only met in passing so you are forgiven.”

  “I am eternally grateful.” Amusement shone in his eyes.

  “But you haven’t answered my question.” Rosalind sank into Val’s chair. “Why aren’t you married?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did my mother send you here?”

  “Lady Westvale?”

  He nodded.

  “No.” Rosalind shook her head. “Although I daresay she’d like the answer to that, as well.”

  “Yes, but she is my mother and considers it her duty whereas you...” He paused as if struck by a thought. Caution edged his words. “You have a daughter, don’t you, Lady Richfield?”

  “Indeed I do,” Rosalind said with an innocent smile. “She’s quite lovely.”

  “I have a daughter too,” Marian blurted. “And she’s very clever.”

  “I have two daughters and they’re both smart and pretty,” Jane said quickly then frowned. “Neither of whom are old enough for...” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I have no idea why I said that.”

  “You said it, my dear Jane,” Val said with a smile, “because good mothers want only what’s best for their daughters. Best, in this instance, means a good match.” He grinned. “And I am eminently eligible.”

  “And I apologize.” Rosalind sighed. “I don’t know what came over me. Under other circumstances, your reputation alone would be enough to discourage any thoughts I might have about a match. You’re more the lesser of two evils at the moment but really not at all suitable. A bit older than I would prefer, as well.”

  “Thank you, Lady Richfield.” Val swept an overly dramatic bow. “Then my reputation has served me well, although I’m not sure I like being the lesser of two evils.” He grinned, pulled a nearby chair to the table, then sat down next to Willie. “How long will you be staying at the villa?”

  “Only tonight. We have rooms at the Hotel de Paris for the remainder of our stay, two more nights.” Willie raised a shoulder in a casual shrug. “There was a problem with our reservations.”

  “Your problem is to my benefit.” Val met Willie’s gaze firmly. “I am delighted to see you again.”

  Willie smiled. “It has been a long time.”

  “Entirely too long.” He leaned toward her. “I meant what I said about calling on you. Would that be acceptable?”

  Aside from the surf in the distance, one could have heard a pin drop. Willie didn’t dare look but she was fairly certain Rosalind, Jane and Marian were absorbing this conversation with bated breath. Was this the sort of idle flirtation Val had always been so accomplished at? Was he indeed only concerned with friendship? Or was he interested in more? A few weeks ago the answer to that would have been most intriguing. But a few weeks ago she not had met Dante Montague. Now everything was, well, different.

  She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and adopted her brightest smile. “Of course, Val. That would be lovely.”

  “Ahem.”

  “Good morning, Dante,” Rosalind said in a cheery manner and waved her brother to the table. “Do you know Lord Brookings?”

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Dante’s gaze flickered between Willie and Val. “I’m Lady Richfield’s brother.”

  Val reluctantly drew his gaze from Willie’s and rose to his feet. “Montague, isn’t it?
”

  “Dante Montague.” He nodded.

  “I’ve heard your name mentioned before.” Val considered him thoughtfully. “You were the one who was...” He winced. “Bad bit of business that.”

  Willie held her breath.

  “What is he talking about?” Marian said softly to Rosalind.

  “Good Lord, Marian.” Rosalind huffed, her voice quiet. “If I am going to have to tell you every morsel of old gossip that might arise, we are going to have to get up much earlier.” She paused. “I’ll tell you later.”

  “I assure you, the accounts of the situation were not entirely accurate,” Dante said coolly. “Furthermore, it was exceptionally awkward and somewhat humiliating, which is why I prefer not to discuss it.”

  “No doubt.” Val shook his head. “One never likes to be reminded of one’s mistakes. Believe me, I know.”

  “And have you made many mistakes, my lord?” Dante’s tone was pleasant enough but there was a distinct challenge in his voice.

  “Too many to count, Mr. Montague.” Val chuckled. “But the ones I truly regret were mistakes not of commission—” he glanced at Willie “—but of omission.”

  “And isn’t that interesting?” Rosalind murmured.

  “I’m sure we all make mistakes,” Jane offered helpfully.

  “Acknowledging one’s mistakes is the first step toward ensuring they are not repeated.” Dante pulled up a chair to sit on Willie’s other side.

  “Excellent point.” Val retook his seat. “I know I, for one, try not to make the same mistakes again.”

  “Although not making them in the first place is the best course.” Dante shrugged.

  Willie’s head swiveled from one man to the other. She had the oddest sensation of being caught between two opposing forces.

  “Still, none of us is perfect,” Val continued. “It is the very nature of man to err occasionally. We all have lapses in judgment brought about by circumstances or events or—” he grinned “—a pretty face.”

  Dante’s jaw clenched. Why on earth was he taking Val’s comments as a personal affront? It was more likely Val was speaking of his own errors in judgment and not Dante’s. Goodness, Val had certainly made enough of them, especially when it came to women.

  “Lord Brookings was just telling us about a bit of profound advice Willie once gave him,” Jane said in an obvious effort to change the subject.

  “I’m not the least bit surprised.” Dante smiled at Willie. “I’ve found many of Lady Bascombe’s comments to be quite profound.”

  “Have you?” Willie raised a skeptical brow. If one was going to be considered profound, it would be nice to be aware of exactly what one said. “What, may I ask, are you talking about?”

  “About the futility of regrets.” Dante met her gaze directly. “About the past and not being able to undo what one has done.”

  “I’m not sure it’s especially profound.” Willie shrugged. “More eminently practical, I would say.”

  “Practical and beautiful.” Val chuckled and Willie turned her attention to him. “And wise. It’s an irresistible combination.”

  Willie laughed. “Now I’m wise, as well?”

  “I recognized your intelligence the first moment we met,” Dante said firmly. “I could see it in your lovely blue eyes.”

  “Oh, I have long thought she was quite clever,” Val said. “But I do think her eyes are as much green as blue.”

  “You’re mistaken.” Dante smiled politely. “They are most definitely blue.”

  “I have been told on occasion, they may be a bit green,” Willie murmured. This was absurd. What were these two doing?

  “No one argues over the color of my eyes,” Marian murmured to Jane.

  “As we have nothing scheduled,” Rosalind said abruptly, “what shall we do today?”

  Willie cast her a grateful glance.

  “I have a splendid idea.” Val beamed. “I come here regularly so I suspect I know Monaco as well as anyone. I would be delighted to show you around. Weather here is exceptional and there is nothing quite as enjoyable as spending an afternoon walking around town enjoying the sunshine and the views. This is one of the most scenic spots on the coast.”

  “How very kind of you to offer. I think it’s a brilliant idea.” Willie glanced at the others.

  “As do I,” Jane said. “Shall we say an hour from now? That will give the girls time to dress.”

  “Oh, this will be fun.” Marian nodded. “I know the girls will enjoy it.”

  “An hour, then.” Rosalind stood, and everyone else followed suit.

  “If you will excuse us, gentlemen.” Willie smiled at the two men and hoped leaving them alone was not a bad idea. Jane and Marian started for their rooms, Willie a step behind.

  “A moment, Willie.” Val stepped close and spoke quietly for her ears alone. “Just out of idle curiosity, who are the girls?”

  “I thought you understood. The ladies didn’t mention their daughters simply to make idle conversation. They have all brought their daughters.” Willie resisted the impulse to smirk.

  He grimaced. “And there are how many?”

  “Four.” She choked back a laugh at the stricken look on his face.

  “And they all have mothers who would like nothing better than to bring home a marquess.” He sighed.

  “You’re the one who mentioned how eligible you are. But take heart, Val.” She grinned. “Jane’s daughters are too young for you and Rosalind has already said you would not suit for hers. So only Marian’s daughter is left.”

  “I’m not worried about the daughter.” Val’s brow furrowed. “But I didn’t like the determined look in her mother’s eyes.”

  “Courage, Val.” Willie laughed and headed for her room.

  Behind her, Rosalind had paused for a word with her brother. “He who hesitates, dear.”

  Willie couldn’t hear Dante’s response and wasn’t at all sure what it meant.

  An hour later they set off to discover the charms of Monte Carlo. Her guidebooks were right—there wasn’t a great deal to see. But the setting was magnificent, the picturesque town wedged between the sea and the mountains. Many of the buildings perched on cliffs overlooking the sea. Val led them through the twisting streets of the oldest part of the principality and it struck Willie as remarkably clean. The town itself swept upward from the sea, climbing the mountains with every street higher in elevation than the next. Broad terraces bordered the streets and provided walkways and stunning vistas. They strolled in constantly shifting groups of two or three, pausing here and there to admire the view or appreciate the foliage or listen to some obscure—and often silly—fact that Val had in seemingly endless supply. They walked by the casino, a grand building more resembling a royal palace than a temple to the gods of chance and decided to all try their luck once they had settled in at the hotel. The gardens too were remarkable. Willie had never seen a palm growing outside of a conservatory and here palms and lemon trees and other exotic plants grew unfettered by glass ceilings. She gave a silent note of gratitude to Mrs. Vanderflute for arranging for them to stay in what was surely as close as man could get to paradise.

  Not that all of them appreciated the display of nature’s bounty as much as they did the company of a dashing gentleman. The girls hung on Val’s every word and took turns hanging on his elbow, as well. He was quite chivalrous about it and really wonderfully charming, paying no more attention to one girl over the others. He encouraged the twins to tell him about New York and asked what they had most enjoyed in Paris and London. He and Harriet spoke of mutual acquaintances and while he might not have noticed, the girl did seem distracted, constantly scanning those passing by. Willie did hope she wasn’t looking for Mr. Goodwin. Surely the young man had returned to England by now. In spite of Val’s best intenti
ons, he did spend far more time chatting with Geneva about the Egyptian artifacts at the British museum than with the other girls. Marian obviously noticed given the satisfied smile on her face.

  The only one not appearing to enjoy it all was Dante, whose expression looked more annoyed than appreciative. Although he too summoned a measure of gallantry and chatted with the girls as they wandered the streets.

  “He’s jealous, you know,” Rosalind said, dropping back to walk by Willie’s side.

  “Who?” Willie stared at the other woman.

  “My brother, of course.” Rosalind frowned. “Surely you noticed that nonsense on the terrace?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Willie scoffed. “That was nothing more than...”

  Rosalind cast her a knowing smile.

  “Well, isn’t that interesting,” Willie murmured. Surely a man who felt the pangs of jealousy wanted more than a temporary liaison. “Very interesting.”

  “I thought so.” Rosalind smirked.

  “Then you don’t think this is just some sort of holiday flirtation for him?”

  “Dante?” Rosalind scoffed. “I would wager my husband’s entire fortune in the casino against that. Besides, a man is rarely jealous if he doesn’t have certain feelings for a woman.” She smiled in a knowing manner and changed the subject.

  Still, the idea lingered in Willie’s head. Although one would think a man who was experiencing jealousy, a man who had certain feelings, a man who had very nearly confessed those feelings would make more of an effort to be with her. Why, he’d scarcely spoken to her all day and had made no attempt to be alone with her. One would have thought a passionate kiss overlooking the rooftops of Paris would have led to something more.

  By midafternoon Harriett declared she was in dire need of refreshment and Dante volunteered to accompany the girls, who promised to bring back drinks for the rest of them. Marian, Rosalind and Jane all settled on one of the benches conveniently placed along the Avenue—the best promenade in Monte Carlo according to Val—overlooking the sea. Willie braced her hands on the stone balustrade protecting pedestrians from tumbling down the cliff to the rocks below and gazed out on the blue Mediterranean. She’d always loved the sea and treasured those rare trips to Brighton she and George had taken, usually in the company of friends. She didn’t miss them, those fair-weather friends, but it was hard not to miss the carefree life she’d once had. Even if she was now fairly certain she would have grown out of it someday. One did have to grow up sometime. Sadly, she didn’t really miss George either. It was distressing but there you had it. Certainly it had been two years since his death. Still, one would have thought...