“Now you’re probably right.”
“I know.” It was her turn to sound smug.
“I shouldn’t be long.” He nodded and headed toward the music hall.
Estelle switched to the opposite side of the carriage, and both women tried not to stare at the passing scene. They couldn’t help themselves. It was impossible to ignore. Here were the pleasure seekers of Paris. Well-dressed gentlemen reeking of wealth and elegance mingled with working men, rougher in appearance in clothes that had seen better days. The women, too, were mostly of a working class although, judging from the appearance of a great many, not all their work was respectable.
Estelle nodded toward a particularly garish-looking woman. “Do you think that she is, well—”
“Yes, I think she probably is,” India said uneasily. She was not so sheltered as to be unaware of women who sold their bodies, and probably their souls, to survive. God knows there were plenty in London. Nor was she so narrow-minded as to believe these women had a choice. More than likely circumstances of birth and poverty had left them few options in life. Legitimate work for women, especially those of the lowest classes, was scarce. Why even someone such as herself—of good family and modest means—had little opportunity for honest employment. She was well aware that a dire fate was never far from any woman who had no husband or family to depend upon.
“India!” Estelle grabbed her arm. “Look, across the street—isn’t that Frederick?”
“I can’t tell. He’s too far away.” India peered at the top-hatted figure headed away from them.
“I can’t make him out. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.” Estelle reached for the door.
“You’ll never catch him. I’ll go.” Even as India opened the door, she knew this was not her brightest idea. “Stay here.”
She jumped out of the carriage, dodged the oncoming traffic and fairly sprinted to the other side of the street. She hurried after the man, striding ahead of her at a leisurely speed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted he was unaccompanied and wondered where Lord Brookings was.
“Professor,” she called. He was still a few strides away. She picked up her pace. “Professor.” She reached out and grabbed his arm.
He turned, and she realized her mistake.
“I beg your pardon.” He directed a disgusted look at her hand on his arm.
She released him at once. “My apologies. I thought you were someone else.”
“No doubt.” He was the right height and build as the professor and even sported the same style of beard, and he was certainly English, but there the resemblance ended.
“I am sorry.” She took a step back.
“As well you should be.” His bushy brows drew together. “An Englishwoman like yourself. I assure you, I am not in the market for what you are selling.”
“Not in the—oh!” She gasped, indignation washed though her. “I’ll have you know I am not selling anything. This was an honest mistake.”
“A mistake perhaps but allow me to question the honesty of it.” He huffed, turned and strode away.
For a moment, India could only stare. How dare he! Why, she’d never been so insulted in her life! Just because a respectable woman wore a purple dress in a questionable area of a city did not mean she was an...unfortunate! That gentleman—although one did have to question that—deserved a stern dressing-down on the insulting consequences of jumping to conclusions. And she was just the woman to do it! She took a step after him and caught sight of Estelle gesturing from the window of the carriage. India pulled up short.
What on earth was she thinking? Certainly his insult had earned him an impassioned rebuke, but nothing, save perhaps a measure of self-satisfaction, could be gained by going after the man. And what would Derek say if he knew she’d left the carriage after she’d said she wouldn’t? She turned toward the carriage.
“What a shame, mademoiselle.” A large, dark-eyed brute with an unrestrained mustache and stubble on his chin stepped in her path. His French was not as refined as hers, but she had no trouble understanding his words. Or the look in his eye. “To be tossed aside that way. Stupid English.” He turned his head and spit in a most revolting manner.
“I beg your pardon.” She drew herself up to her full if inadequate height. “I am English.”
“My apologies, mademoiselle. But you are the English rose, and he is a fool.” He leaned close, the garlic on his breath nearly overwhelming. “And I am a lover of flowers.” He grabbed her arm.
“Unhand me at once.” She tried to shake off his hand, but his grip tightened. She couldn’t recall ever having been afraid before, but what was surely fear rose in her throat.
“I would do as she asks if I were you,” a familiar voice said casually.
Relief washed through her. “Derek, I—”
“Shut up, India,” he said in English, then returned his attention to her admirer. “It would be in your best interest to release her.”
“Why? She is available, is she not?” A predatory gleam showed in the brute’s eyes. The man was a good half a foot taller than Derek, broader and harder looking. Derek was obviously no match for this man. “And I like them small and spirited.”
Derek stepped closer to the man and spoke low into his ear. The brute’s eyes widened; he let her go at once and leaped back. He crossed himself, staring at her as if she were the devil incarnate. “Mon Dieu.” He turned and sprinted away.
“Come along, India.” Derek grabbed her elbow and hurried her toward the carriage. “Now.”
“What did you say to him?” She looked over her shoulder. Her assailant hadn’t so much as slowed his step.
“I told him I was a doctor, you were my patient who had escaped from my care and you were highly contagious.”
India could barely keep up with him. “What did you say I had?”
“You don’t want to know,” he said in hard, clipped tones. They reached the carriage, he yanked open the door and practically tossed her inside. She plopped down beside Estelle, who patted her hand in encouragement. Derek gave directions to the driver, then took his seat. She couldn’t see his face in the dark interior, but it wasn’t necessary to know he was annoyed with her.
“Are you all right?” Estelle asked, concern in her voice.
“Quite.” India summoned a measure of calm. “Obviously that was not the professor.”
“But it was very brave of you to go after him.”
“Brave?” Derek fairly sputtered with outrage. More than merely annoyed then. “Stupid is a more accurate term.”
“I have always heard there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity,” Estelle said, obviously trying to be helpful.
“Derek, I—”
“That was the most irresponsible, foolish thing I have ever seen.” Anger underlay his words. “You promised to stay in the carriage.”
“We thought we saw the professor, and we didn’t want him to get away.”
“It didn’t seem stupid at the time,” Estelle added.
“I expected better. From both of you,” he snapped. “Do you know what might have happened to you?”
“I believe I have some idea.” India folded her hands together in her lap to still their shaking. She pulled in a deep, calming breath. “And I am never irresponsible.”
“Ha!”
“So, am I to assume you did not find my husband?” Estelle ventured.
“I did not,” he said sharply. “The doorman told me he and my brother were there briefly and then left. Apparently to return home.”
“Oh, that is good to hear.” Estelle breathed a sigh of relief.
“Derek.” India braced herself. “In hindsight, as much as it pains me to say this...” She was not used to admitting her mistakes. She was not used to making mistakes. This w
as far more difficult than she had imagined. “While it did seem necessary at the time, I did not give my actions due consideration. I acted upon impulse—which I might point out I am not prone to do—as well as in a most, well, less than responsible manner. I have no excuse. I don’t understand it myself—”
“It was an adventure, dear,” Estelle said under her breath. “One can never underestimate the lure of adventure. I suspect it causes even the most rational among us to do foolish things they would never think of doing otherwise.”
“Thank you, Estelle. Nonetheless, it was...” India blew a long breath. “Stupid. You were right, Derek.”
Silence hung heavy in the carriage for an endless moment.
“Well.” A desperate note sounded in Estelle’s voice. “That’s that then. I’m sure we can put this behind us now and, well...”
India nodded. “Excellent idea. I know I intend to never mention it again.”
A disgruntled snort sounded from Derek’s side of the carriage.
The moment they arrived at Lord Brookings’s, Estelle bolted from the carriage, muttering her thanks in her wake. His lordship’s expertly trained footman opened the door, and she shot into the house as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. India didn’t blame her. She would have dashed toward the house herself, but she suspected escaping Derek’s ire was not going to be that easy. Not that she didn’t deserve it. He helped her out of the carriage, and they started for the door.
“India.” He stopped.
She turned toward him, his face illuminated by the flickering gaslight. “Yes?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“Don’t be absurd,” she said in a gracious and relieved manner. “You were upset, understandably so. It was a, well, awkward—”
“Awkward?” he said slowly.
“I suppose perilous might be a better word.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh my, yes.” She nodded. “He was much bigger than you. I don’t know what might have happened had you needed to resort to fisticuffs.”
“I assure you I would have held my own.” He paused. “For the first minute or two.”
“Fortunately, you were cleverer than that, and physical means were not necessary.”
“India—”
“But as I was saying,” she said quickly. It did seem better not to allow him to get a word in. “You had every right to be angry, and no apology is necessary.”
He stared in disbelief. “You think my apology is because I was angry? Justifiably angry? You understand the danger of the situation was not just for myself?”
She shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “Yes, I suppose.”
“I’m apologizing for suggesting I kiss you.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I know how you are about impropriety. Therefore, you have my apology.”
“Then you didn’t want to kiss me?” she said without thinking. Not that she wanted him to kiss her, of course. That would indeed be improper. And she wasn’t sure one’s first kiss should be in a notorious district in a decadent city.
“Oh, make no mistake, India, I would like nothing better than to kiss you. This was not the first time it has occurred to me.” He paused as if debating his words. “However, it seemed an apology was called for on my part as you were willing to apologize to me.”
It was her turn to stare. “I didn’t apologize.”
“You said I was right. You admitted you should have stayed in the carriage.”
“It was an admission, an acknowledgment if you will, of my mistake.” She shrugged. “I didn’t actually apologize for it.”
“Don’t you think you should?” He stepped closer and glared down at her. “If not for ignoring your promise to stay in the carriage, then for, at the very least, scaring the hell out of me?” His voice rose, and there was genuine concern in his tone. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw you in the hands of that animal? I have never been so terrified in my life!”
She stared up at him. “Oh.”
“Oh?” He stepped closer, so close she could see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. “Oh?”
“Oh...” Close enough to pull her into his arms and kiss her, if he was so inclined. Her heart thudded in her chest. “Oh, I...I apologize? I obviously wasn’t thinking, and I am truly sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” Was he so inclined? He stared down at her. “You are not infallible, India Prendergast.”
She nodded. “I am aware of that.”
“Good.” His gaze shifted to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Please try to keep it in mind in the future.”
“Yes, of course.” She leaned closer.
A footman peered out the open door.
Derek took a step back. “I shall see you in the morning, then, to resume our Grand Hotel search.”
She nodded. “In the morning.”
He accompanied her into the house and bid her good-night. She started up the stairs. She knew without looking his gaze followed her. What was he thinking? Did he regret not kissing her? And did he still wish to kiss her? India had never been kissed before and had never paid any attention to that omission in her life. Now...
She reached her room, closed the door behind her and sank onto the bed. Odd, the fact that he had wanted to kiss her, had confessed that tonight was not the first time the thought had occurred to him, eclipsed the other events of the night.
She had nearly been kissed. By a rogue, a scoundrel, a man who had no doubt kissed dozens—even hundreds—of women. He was probably quite skilled at it. Still, he hadn’t kissed her and by now had probably changed his mind about kissing her altogether. Which was for the best really.
Why, she had no desire to kiss Derek Saunders. None whatsoever. So it made absolutely no sense that she had the awful, sinking feeling that she had just taken the wrong turn at a crossroads.
And her life would never be the same.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IF DEREK COULD act as if nothing whatsoever had happened between them, then so could India. While she was grateful he had not mentioned the events of last night, it was annoying that he had as well ignored the whole matter of his desire to kiss her. If indeed he still had that desire. Not that she cared. No, it was best to put the entire night behind them and continue on with their quest.
Today they’d made progress, but they were barely halfway through Derek’s list of Grand Hotels. India vowed to herself never to stay in a hotel with the word grand in its name. She’d had quite enough of them already, thank you. Even so, she was not about to give up.
Where was Heloise? Admittedly, she’d been showing the strangest tendencies toward independence in the weeks before she’d joined the Lady Travelers Society. But independence did not preclude common sense and courtesy. Surely, she would have known that India would worry if she allowed her correspondence to lapse. Although, now that she thought about it, India realized, while her cousin had said she would write, she’d made no promises as to frequency. And Heloise did have a tendency to pay little attention to the details of life she deemed unimportant. The chances were very good that nothing distressing had happened to her at all. India did hope so. She loved the older woman, and would not rest until she was assured of her safety.
And then what? an annoying voice whispered in the back of her head. Will you drag her home? Insist she abandon this adventure of hers and return to the rather ordinary life she lives? The life you both live?
India ignored it. She would cross that road when she came to it. First, she had to find Heloise. And hopefully trap a scoundrel in the process. Even if Derek wasn’t quite the devil she had originally thought. In fact, she was reluctantly beginning to like him, which had nothing to do with his alleged desire to kiss her. Regardless, as any good detective would tell you, the first step in an
investigation is to know your subject.
India dressed for dinner early and slipped down to his lordship’s library, where Suzette said he was often found before dinner. She knocked on the half-open door, then pushed it wider and stepped into the room. “Good evening, your lordship.”
“You do realize people who don’t wait for an invitation often find themselves in awkward situations,” Lord Brookings said, his gaze firmly on papers spread on the desk in front of him.
“And who would know that better than you?” she said lightly.
“Indeed, I have been caught unawares any number of times.” He stood and circled the desk toward her. “It has proven most awkward.”
She arched a brow. “For you?”
“For everyone else.” He grinned in an entirely too knowing manner.
“The door was open. I believe an open door is an invitation.”
“There is nothing I like better than having my words thrown back at me by a lovely woman. Well then, welcome.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “And to what do I owe the honor of this visit, India? I’ve not seen you alone since I visited you in your bed and you insisted I call you Miss Prendergast.”
“You remember that, do you?”
“It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.” He brushed his lips across her hand, his gaze never wavering from hers.
“I doubt that, but surely then you recall I won our little wager.” She pulled her hand from his.
“Ah yes.” He heaved an overly heartfelt sigh. “Miss Prendergast it is to be then.”
She couldn’t help but grin. The man was incorrigible and annoyingly amusing.
“I see Mrs. Greer’s taste in fashion continues to astound.”
She glanced down at the evening ensemble. Estelle really did bring more clothes than she could possibly ever wear but she was so gracious about loaning them, India was hard-pressed to object to the style. “I understood plaid was quite the current rage.”
“In Scotland perhaps.” He propped a hip on the corner of his desk. “Now then, as you have dared to brave the inner sanctum of the scandalous Lord Brookings, I assume you are not here simply to pass the time until dinner.”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen Page 17