“I am inclined to offer you my assistance, Derek,” the earl said.
“I didn’t ask—”
His uncle held up a hand to stop him. “Precisely why I intend to give it.” He leaned forward over his desk and met Derek’s gaze firmly. “If something has happened to Lady Heloise, the situation will only be worse if Miss Prendergast is present when such information is discovered.”
“I don’t even want to consider that possibility, sir.”
“Nor do I, but it is a possibility. Admittedly a dismal one, but a possibility nonetheless. Here’s what I’m going to suggest.” He paused thoughtfully. “First, I am pleased that you have taken on the task of protecting your great-aunt and her cohorts. There is nothing in this world more important than family and a family’s good name.”
Derek nodded.
“Secondly, I have a fair number of influential connections as well as more money than even you can spend in a lifetime. I can afford to send out a small army of investigators to track down a missing traveler in a swift and efficient manner. Men who are well trained and know what they’re doing.”
It was indeed a generous offer. “Still, sir, it is my problem.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your objective to find Lady Heloise as quickly as possible so as to appease Miss Prendergast, thereby avoiding destroying an old lady’s good name?”
As well as keep her out of prison. “Yes, sir.”
“And shouldn’t you employ every means at your disposal to do so?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“And am I not offering assistance that might help you do just that?”
“Nonetheless, sir, this is my responsibility.”
“Good God, you’re stubborn.” Uncle Edward grinned. “But then, so am I. Here’s my proposal. Travel as planned with Miss Prendergast to Paris and keep her there. The longer she’s out of London, the less likely she is to cause problems for Lady Blodgett. You did say she had contacted the police?”
Derek nodded.
“You will restrict your search to the confines of Paris. I will hire trained investigators to proceed with the utmost haste in searching elsewhere.”
Derek drew his brows together. “Regardless of my lack of training, you do realize there is every possibility that I will find Lady Heloise.”
“If she is alive and well, there is indeed. And we will hope for that. Do not mistake my words, Derek. You are an intelligent man, and my offer is not due to any lack of confidence in you. Rather, I want to help. Besides, I have always been fond of a good mystery.” The older man’s eyes twinkled in a way Derek could not recall having seen in a long time. In recent years, whenever they talked, the look in his uncle’s eyes tended toward irritation. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but I am quite fond of detective novels and stories of mystery. And, as much as I hate to admit it, all these responsibilities I am currently training you for tend not to be terribly exciting. After a while, one does long for a taste of adventure.”
“Determining the whereabouts of an elderly lady does not strike me as a significant adventure, sir.”
“One takes what one can get, my boy. I’d accompany you if I could but that’s impossible at the moment. Still, the idea of managing a search like this, being the mastermind behind it, if you will, sounds rather like an adventure.”
“Mastermind?” Derek’s brow rose.
“Excellent word. It denotes power, perception, a fine intellect and perhaps a touch of wickedness.” His uncle grinned. “Give me a week. Better yet—a fortnight.”
His uncle was right. If his purpose was to find Lady Heloise as quickly as possible, he would be an idiot to turn down help.
“Why not a month?” he said blithely.
“Excellent.” Uncle Edward beamed.
“I wasn’t serious.” Derek glared. “How am I to keep Miss Prendergast in Paris for a month?”
“Come now, Derek—it’s Paris.” Uncle Edward settled back in his chair and considered him thoughtfully. “You can’t have forgotten the charms of Paris. You’ve been there in recent years. I know. I paid for it.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Aside from the fact that the entire world is flocking to the Paris Exposition, Paris itself has always had a certain charm—part utter elegance, part ancient history and part Bohemian decadence.”
“Decadence will not appeal to Miss Prendergast.”
“She’s a woman, isn’t she?”
“One would think.” Nonetheless it was hard to picture the very disapproving India Prendergast in Paris.
“And you are a man with a rather significant reputation when it comes to women.”
Derek started to deny it, but what was the point?
“Between your charms and those of the City of Light, I can’t imagine you can’t come up with dozens of ways to delay Miss Prendergast.”
“But an entire month in Paris...” Derek shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“It may not take a month for either of us to find Lady Heloise. I shall telegraph you to keep you apprised of my progress.” The earl chuckled. “I think it sounds like fun.”
“Fun?” Derek snorted. “You haven’t met Miss Prendergast.”
His uncle waved off the comment. “She’s simply an obstacle tossed in your way to make things more interesting.”
“Good God, Uncle Edward, this is not a game.”
“You’re right, of course.” Uncle Edward had the grace to look chagrined. “Why don’t we just call it a test?”
“A test?” Derek stared.
“Or would you rather make it a wager?” A wicked gleam shone in Uncle Edward’s eyes.
“A wager,” Derek said slowly. He’d always loved a good wager. Still, his uncle wanted him to mend his wild ways. As much as he wanted to agree, the thought occurred to him that perhaps this was the test. “I’m not sure that’s wise, Uncle.”
The earl snorted back a laugh. “Bloody hell, man, I never intended to break your spirit. An interesting wager between two honorable men is not objectionable.”
“Given what’s at stake, I’m not sure a wager is appropriate.”
“Perhaps.” His uncle shrugged. “Then we are back to a test. Succeed in keeping Miss Prendergast occupied while I use my resources to learn what happened to her cousin. And then avoid dragging your great-aunt’s name through the mud, as well as evade any legal problems that might arise from all this—” Uncle Edward was apparently even more perceptive than Derek realized “—and it will prove to me that you do indeed have what it takes to handle my affairs after I’m gone. Any idiot can inherit a title and a fortune, Derek, but managing property, finances and, more important, people takes experience, skill and instinct.”
“And if I pass this test of yours?”
“Then I shall withdraw the threat of leaving you penniless.” Uncle Edward grinned.
Derek stared at the older man. “I’m not quite sure I believe you.”
“Wise of you.” His uncle chuckled. “Show me that you can manage a situation as fraught with disaster as this one and you have my word. You will inherit everything you deserve.”
“Everything I deserve?” Derek was fairly certain his uncle’s phrasing left something to be desired. “Who decides what I deserve?”
Uncle Edward laughed. “Excellent catch, my boy.” He sobered. “But I am serious about this. If you pull this off, then you will have earned your inheritance as well as my respect. There’s nothing I can do about who inherits my title, but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave my money and property to a man I don’t respect. Prove to me you can be that man.”
“I shall try, sir.”
“Then I can ask nothing more. But regardless of how this turns out, I will still expect you to continue
to tread the straight and narrower path you have been walking of late.” His grin widened if possible. “I just won’t be such an ass about it.”
“Oh well, that makes it all worthwhile then,” Derek said without thinking, then winced. He hadn’t meant to be quite so glib. Uncle Edward had never taken Derek’s quips particularly well, especially when they were aimed at him.
But Uncle Edward laughed, and Derek had the distinct impression they had just crossed some sort of threshold in their relationship. Helped, no doubt, by Derek’s embrace of his uncle’s edict about reforming his questionable behavior. For the first time, Derek felt like an adult in his uncle’s presence. A feeling strengthened by the look of respect in the older man’s eyes. As well as the laughter.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, sir?”
“Why wouldn’t I enjoy seeing my heir live up to expectations?”
Derek blew a long breath. “I hope I can.”
“As do I. Indeed, you may well be on the way to becoming the man I always thought you could be. A man your father would be proud of.” The earl pinned him with a hard look. “Don’t muck it up.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
There are moments of tedium in the course of travel when one is confined to a train carriage or ship’s cabin that provide the perfect opportunity to study the places one is headed. The clever lady traveler will be prepared with books not only on the current state of one’s destination but on its history, as well. However, fictional tales of misadventure or mayhem are best avoided as they will serve only to make even the most stalwart lady traveler uneasy.
—The Lady Travelers Society Guide
INDIA STARED AT the ornate white ceiling embellished with entwined plaster swags and flowers and, for a moment, couldn’t determine exactly where she was. Of course. She was in Paris, where even the beds were decadent. Although apparently, when it came to blissful slumber, there was something to be said for a certain amount of decadence. She struggled to sit upright in spite of the soft, cushiony mattress that seemed determined to seduce her back to sleep under downy covers and the scent of fresh-washed linen. Pity she was made of sterner stuff.
She couldn’t remember ever having slept so soundly. Perhaps, when she returned to London, she’d look into replacing her firm, sensible mattress with something a bit more self-indulgent. Although her excellent night’s sleep probably had less to do with the bed and everything to do with her overwhelming fatigue. Who would have thought doing nothing more than sitting on trains and steamboats would be quite so exhausting? She’d done nothing of any merit all day yesterday save to change from train to boat and back to another train. Although travel was not without its perils. She had quickly learned Mrs. Greer had an unending reserve of completely inconsequential topics she delighted in expounding upon given the slightest opportunity. In that, she and her husband were well matched, although his chosen topics were of a more intellectual nature—the influence of classical thought on the architecture of the last century as opposed to his wife’s ponderings on whether the French would be relying more on feathers or silk flowers for the decoration of hats this year. India’s hats were sensible, practical creations and in no need of such frippery.
Never in her entire life had India imagined she would be going to Paris—that bastion of sin and debauchery. Whereas Heloise had gone on and on about the delights of Paris—the innovation, art, history and food—and couldn’t wait to sample it all for herself, India was perfectly happy with the impressive history, practical innovation, notable art and solid food of her native England. France held no particular lure for India, nor did the French. She’d never met a Frenchman but had heard they were uniformly rude and condescending. She was not fond of being condescended to by anyone.
While India preferred not to be bothered by idle chatter, she’d had no choice but to engage in conversation during meals with the Greers and Mr. Saunders—Derek, he’d insisted she call him as they were to be traveling companions for the foreseeable future. As Mrs. Greer—Estelle—was already doing so, it seemed rude of India not to. But the rest of the day she avoided unnecessary discussion by claiming to be engrossed in one of the books she had brought with her—although admittedly reading Dyke Darrel, The Railroad Detective, a story of murder, theft and all manner of mayhem may not have been wise when one was actually traveling by rail. Why, such a story might put a less rational person than herself in the position of looking with distrust at every suspicious person on the train. Although there did seem to be a significant number of questionable travelers—especially once they were in France. India would have been much better off rereading her copy of Mr. Bazalgette’s Agent about the indomitable Miss Miriam Lea, although the very idea of a female detective was totally absurd, if oddly compelling.
India drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and studied the room. She’d barely paid any attention to her surroundings upon their arrival last night. Far larger than her bedchamber at home, the room allotted her was colored in muted shades of lilac and blue. It was at once serene and calming and distinctly welcoming. Lace curtains fluttered slightly at the long windows at the end of the room. The furniture was delicate in appearance, colored in aging shades of white, accented with burnished gold. From the pastel Aubusson rug on the floor to small, crystal sconces on the wall, the room spoke of wealth and heritage and feminine grace. It was as far from her own taste as if some obstinate, contrary creature had designed it with annoying her in mind, and yet she rather liked it.
By the time they’d actually set foot on Parisian soil, it had been quite late. The professor had arranged for their baggage to be collected from the Salle des Bagages, and insisted upon waiting to accompany the luggage while Derek had found transportation and escorted the two ladies to their lodgings. India had assumed they would be staying at a hotel, but Derek explained, given the Paris Exposition opened its doors last month—as did its remarkably ugly iron tower centerpiece—hotel rooms had been booked for months. He said it was fortunate that he had a relative with a large house in the center of the city. India was far too tired to care at that point, although now she wondered at the wisdom of staying in the private home of a relation of his, even if he was right and they had little choice. They were no doubt lucky to have a roof over their heads at all, let alone one quite as opulent as this.
Professor Greer was probably no more than a few minutes behind them, but neither India nor Estelle could keep their eyes open. They were both whisked off immediately to their respective rooms by friendly, smiling maids who chattered the entire time in a manner reminiscent of finches. Poor Estelle’s French was minimal, but India was quite adept at languages and had studied French, Italian and German. Admittedly, she had never spoken anything but English outside of a classroom.
A knock sounded at her door, and before she could respond, it flew open.
“Good morning, mademoiselle.” A pretty dark-haired girl, one of the maids from last night—Suzette, if India recalled correctly—breezed into the room carrying a tray bearing a plate of pastries, a pot and a cup. “I hope you slept well.”
“Quite well, thank you.” And apparently she was starving. The food they’d purchased from vendors yesterday was no more than adequate, and they had all eaten sparingly. “You speak English?”
“I have been studying the English for some time, mademoiselle.” Suzette set the pot on a side table, then deftly unfolded short legs under the tray and set it in front of India on the bed. India stared at the golden pastries accompanied by a dish of raspberries. It was not at all her usual kind of breakfast—lightly buttered toast, coddled eggs and a small slice of ham. No, this was...French. “My fiancé, Jerome, and I will settle in America after we marry. One of us should know the language. Jerome is a carver of stone. His cousin is in America and writes that there is very much work for a man with Jerome’s skills.”
She filled the cup with a rich, dar
k chocolate. Good Lord, India hadn’t had chocolate in longer than she could remember. Leave it to the immoral, irresponsible French to have chocolate on an ordinary day. The aroma drifted past India’s nose, and her stomach growled. She picked up the cup and took a sip, resisting the urge to sigh with delight. It tasted every bit as wonderful as it smelled. Perhaps in this, and this alone, the French were on to something.
“He is a true artist, mademoiselle. What the man can do with his hands...” Suzette heaved a heartfelt sigh, and India wasn’t entirely sure if she was still talking about stone. “But he is not, oh...adept at words. So I will translate American for him, and he will earn our fortune.” She beamed at India.
“That sounds like an excellent plan.” India broke off a piece of a croissant and popped it in her mouth. It fairly melted on her tongue. There may well be something to be said for decadence—at least at breakfast. “Tell me, Suzette, where exactly am I?”
“Why, you are in Paris, mademoiselle,” she said cautiously and inched toward the door. “You did not know that?”
“Yes, of course.” She gestured with the pastry in her hand. “But whose house is this? I was so tired when we arrived, I’m afraid that has slipped my mind.”
“Ah.” Suzette’s expression cleared. “I see. This is the home of the Marquess of Brookings,” she announced with a flourish.
“Brookings?” India swallowed the bite of croissant in her mouth. “He’s English then?”
“Indeed he is, but his mother was Parisian.” Suzette smirked with satisfaction. “This was his mother’s family’s house.”
“And he lives here?”
“As well as in England, but he is here as often as possible.”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen Page 8