“When we last spoke, I didn’t know I would be.” Exactly how much should he tell her?
Her brow arched upward. “So this was unanticipated on your part? A spur of the moment sort of thing?”
On one hand, the more she knew, the more she might be able to help. “One could say that.”
“And Edward did not protest?”
On the other, the more she knew, the more dangerous she might be. “Not at all.”
She studied him closely. He resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot like a guilty schoolboy. “That doesn’t sound like Edward. He was quite serious about you—how did he put it?”
“Accepting your responsibilities, giving up a pointless life of excess, debauchery and misdeeds? Becoming a man?” Val offered.
“Thank you.” Derek clenched his teeth. “I had forgotten the exact wording.”
“Anything I can do to help.” Val’s expression was solemn, but amusement shone in his eyes. “I think you need to tell her everything.”
“Again, you have my thanks,” Derek snapped, but Val was probably right. Besides, one way or another, Mother would surely find out everything anyway. She always did. “Very well.” He added another splash of whisky to his glass, then drew a deep breath. “When you and Lord Westvale left London, you charged me with looking after Aunt Guinevere. A duty, I might add, that you have not shouldered particularly well.”
“Nonsense.” She sniffed. “I call on Aunt Guinevere frequently. Dear, sweet, fragile lady that she is.”
Val snorted back a laugh and headed toward the whisky decanter.
“Then you are aware that she and two of her dearest friends have started an organization ostensibly to assist women with information and travel arrangements but that in truth does little more than provide her and the other ladies a steady income?”
“Why, how very clever of Aunt Guinevere.” Mother beamed, deftly managing to avoid answering the question.
Derek gritted his teeth. “And did you know they are offering services they are not competent to provide nor do they feel compelled to provide? Which might well be seen as, oh I don’t know—fraud?”
“I’m certain that’s nothing more than a misunderstanding.” Mother waved off the charge. “No doubt one that can be rectified.”
“Well, it would have been easier to rectify had they not lost one of their members!”
“Surely they can’t be blamed for that,” Mother said slowly.
“Surely they can!” Derek glared at his mother. It was past time she accepted some of the responsibility for this mess. God knew he had.
“Percival?” She craned her neck and peered around Derek. “Some sherry, if you please.”
“Already poured, Mother.” Val stepped around his brother and handed her a glass. “I suspected you might need this.” He took a position slightly behind her chair and shot his brother a knowing smirk.
“You are a thoughtful son. Thank you, dear.” Mother took a sip, no doubt as much for a moment to consider Derek’s words as for the bracing effects of the wine. “None of which explains why you are in Paris.”
Val leaned over the back of the chair and addressed his mother. “This is where it gets really good.”
She glanced at Val. “I thought the really good part had to do with the woman who won’t marry him.”
“Stop talking as if I’m not here.” Derek blew a frustrated breath. “And there are no good parts. This is not some sort of French farce.”
“And yet we are in France,” Mother murmured.
“I’m here because this is the last place we know that Lady Heloise Snuggs visited.”
Mother’s eyes narrowed. “And who is that?”
Derek heaved a long-suffering sigh. “She is the Lady Travelers Society member who seems to have disappeared.”
“Lady Heloise Snuggs?” Mother shook her head. “I don’t know her. Although I believe I might have known a Snuggs once. Charming fellow if I’m thinking of the right person.” She glanced at Val. “One meets so many people.”
Val raised his glass to her. “And more than a few Snuggs.”
“And you’re trying to find her?” Mother asked.
“Exactly.” Derek nodded.
“Which does explain why you are here. Now then...” Mother sipped her sherry. “You said this is the last place we knew, I should like to know who we is, as I’m assuming it’s not Percival.”
“I have nothing to do with this,” Val said quickly.
“I didn’t think so, dear. And, more important, who is the woman you haven’t asked to marry you but wouldn’t do so anyway?” Mother’s tone was pleasant but there was a familiar look in her eye. Derek had always thought it similar to that of a predator right before pouncing on its prey.
“We would be myself and Miss India Prendergast. Lady Heloise’s cousin.”
“Her much younger cousin.” Val leaned forward. “A rather interesting woman, Mother. Quite efficient and intelligent, obviously as she has refused to marry Derek—”
“I didn’t ask her!”
“Too proper for my taste, wound too tight if you will,” Val continued, “but surprisingly attractive in spite of her dreadful clothes.” He shuddered. “Excellent lungs on her, too.”
“I see,” Mother murmured, a speculative look in her eye. “So you are traveling with an unmarried woman, Derek?”
“I assure you we are appropriately chaperoned.” Derek threw a silent prayer of thanks in the direction of England and Aunt Guinevere. “Professor and Mrs. Greer are accompanying us. He was a colleague of Uncle Charles.”
“I have never heard of him.” Mother shrugged, then shot a quelling glance at Val. “Don’t say it, dear.”
Val gasped in feigned indignation. “I wasn’t going to say a word about your lack of acquaintances—or interest—in all things academic.”
Mother gave him the kind of look both he and Val had lived in fear of as boys. From the time Mother had married Val’s father she had treated him exactly as she treated Derek. And he adored her for it.
“I have interests in any number of diverse subjects, several academic in nature. Admittedly, I find some more worthy of note than others.” She pinned Val with a firm look. “You would do well to remember that.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said solemnly but his eyes gleamed with laughter.
As did hers. Until she returned her attention to her younger son. “When would you suggest I meet Miss Prendergast?”
“Why do you want to meet her?” Derek said without thinking.
Val winced.
“Why wouldn’t I want to meet her?”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It just doesn’t strike me as a wise idea.”
“Nonsense. For one thing we are all houseguests together.” She glanced at Val. “I would like to meet the professor and his wife, as well.”
“Dinner tonight, I would think,” Val said.
“I don’t know that I wish to wait that long to meet the woman who refuses to marry my son.” She smiled. “Tell me about her.”
“I’m not sure there is much more to tell,” Derek said cautiously.
“Really?” Mother raised a brow. “Nothing more than she is a cousin of a Snuggs, intelligent, proper and has poor taste in clothing?”
“I think she’s rather intriguing,” Val said.
“I can tell her that.” Derek huffed. “After all, she is my—”
“Your what?” A wicked light shone in his brother’s eyes.
“Your what, dear?” Mother asked, a similar light in her eyes.
“My responsibility,” he said firmly.
“Is she indeed?” Mother studied him.
“Speaking of responsibilities, a telegram came for you earlier.” Val pulled a paper out
of his waistcoat pocket and handed it to his brother, knowing full well he had just changed the subject. Derek shot him a grateful look.
Derek scanned the message. It was from Uncle Edward, who was notoriously tight with his wording in such things, as if a few pennies here or there made a great deal of difference to his net worth. Apparently one of the detectives he had hired was now in Paris with information about Lady Heloise. Derek was to meet with him tomorrow at his hotel. Thankfully not a Grand Hotel.
“Good news?” Mother asked hopefully.
“With any luck.” As much as Derek had been unexpectedly enjoying India’s company, as much as he was perplexed by this inescapable attraction to her, as much as he couldn’t quite determine exactly what he was feeling at the moment, finding Lady Heloise and getting on with his life had a great deal of appeal. Still, as annoyed as he was with the woman, not seeing India every day was not something he wished to consider. Nor did he need to. Yet. “Uncle Edward has hired investigators to help locate Lady Heloise while Miss Prendergast and I search for her here. I am to meet with one of his detectives tomorrow morning.”
“A detective?” Mother’s eyes widened. “How very exciting.”
“It’s not exciting. It’s a necessity.” Something that might well have been guilt sharpened his tone. Aside from all else that had happened today, he couldn’t get the idea that the Lady Travelers Society had been stealing women’s dreams out of his head. “One that would not be needed at all if Aunt Guinevere had not been forced to find some way of improving her finances. If you had paid more attention to her perhaps you would have noticed she was very nearly at poverty’s doorstep.”
Val cringed.
Mother stared at him for a long moment. “My mother, God rest her soul, used to say there was no one in the world more independent than her sister. When your uncle Charles was away on one of his expeditions, my mother would invite Guinevere to stay with us. She never once accepted, saying she was able to take care of herself and she preferred to do so.”
“That might well be, but now she is getting on in years, and she needs assistance and attention,” Derek said sharply. Admittedly, he had shirked his familial responsibilities up to this point, but now that he had been made aware of Aunt Guinevere’s plight, he was willing to do whatever was needed to make certain the elderly lady—and her friends—were taken care of. Mother needed to acknowledge her failure in this, as well. “She deserves better than to be abandoned by her family.”
“Abandoned?” Mother’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have you know, I call on Guinevere at least once and usually twice a month when I am in town. In addition, every month, I send a carriage for her so that she might join me for tea or join us for dinner. Fully half the time, she begs off—claiming a previous commitment. When she does come, she often brings her two old friends with her and they are most welcome.” Mother met Derek’s gaze directly. “At no time has Guinevere ever given me so much as a hint that she had financial problems of any kind. Indeed, she has always led me to believe Uncle Charles left her quite well off.”
“Even so—”
“Furthermore, Derek, I am not so scatterbrained, nor am I so absorbed in my own life, as to ignore a family member in need, particularly not Aunt Guinevere. I love the dear woman. But she has never said a word about financial difficulties nor has she ever implied that all was not well.”
“I can’t imagine it’s easy for a woman who has lived her entire life depending mostly on herself to admit that she can no longer do so,” Val said. “Pride and all that.”
“No doubt,” Mother said coolly. “Guinevere has not been abandoned by me, Derek. And I quite resent that you think so.”
He winced. “My apologies, Mother. That might have been unfair of me.”
“It was more than unfair. It was offensive, unkind and undeserved.”
She was right. Was there so much as a single woman alive he would not do battle with today? “I am truly sorry.”
“However, given the way you burst into the room, you have obviously already had a difficult day so I suppose your thoughtless comments can be attributed to your foul mood. And therefore overlooked.”
Val snorted.
“I appreciate that, Mother,” Derek said under his breath.
“And I assure you, my aunt and I will have a long chat about this very thing the moment I return to London. If I have been lax in my obligations toward her, have no doubt, I will rectify that.” Mother’s tone hardened. “I’m certain we can devise a plan to provide her—”
“They,” Derek said.
Mother frowned. “They?”
“They—Aunt Guinevere, Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore.” Derek shrugged in a helpless manner. “They are like sisters.”
“Like the Three Musketeers.” Val nodded. “One for all and all for one, that sort of thing.”
“I suspect, whatever financial support we are able to provide, Aunt Guinevere will share it with the others.”
“Of course, I should have realized that. The three of them are indeed bound together by affection and history. They have been close for as long as I can remember. Quite a daunting and yet amusing trio. Ophelia and Persephone are every bit as unique in character as Guinevere. I find them all quite enjoyable.” She paused. “Perhaps something can be done with this Lady Travelers Society of theirs.”
“Something legitimate,” Derek said quickly.
“Without question.” Mother frowned. “And I don’t know why you think it was necessary to point that out. I should hate for dear Aunt Guinevere or her friends to be incarcerated.” She considered the matter for a moment. “I shall have to talk to Stephen about this. I daresay he’ll come up with some sort of clever idea. He’s quite brilliant, you know.”
Derek and Val traded long-suffering glances.
“Where is Lord Westvale?” Derek asked.
“He had business to attend to. Stephen has some sort of business very nearly everywhere we go.” Mother rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. She had never been tolerant of business. “He should return shortly. You’ll see him at dinner.” She finished her sherry and held her now-empty glass out to Val. He dutifully took it and crossed the room to refill the glass. “Now, what are you doing to find your Lady Heloise? I assume you’re not simply waiting for your uncle’s efforts to bear fruit.”
“No, we most certainly are not.” Derek swirled the whisky in his glass. “We are continuing to canvass those places Lady Heloise intended to visit. And, as one of her letters referred to the Grand Hotel she was staying in, Miss Prendergast and I have been checking all the hotels in Paris with the word grand in the name—”
Mother stared. “All of them? That must have taken forever.”
“Very nearly.” Val returned and handed Mother her glass.
“Indeed it has, but Uncle Edward thought it best to keep Miss Prendergast in Paris as long as possible while his investigators try to find her cousin. We’ve not had any luck yet.” He took a thoughtful sip. “But I have noticed the oddest thing.”
“Apart from the sheer number of Grand Hotels?” Val grinned.
Derek ignored him. “I have reread all of Lady Heloise’s letters to her cousin. They are quite interesting and full of the details of travel but...” He wasn’t sure how significant it was but it was certainly of interest. “Everything she writes, every description, every detail is taken practically word for word from one of the Baedeker guidebooks.”
“So, one could have stayed in the comfort of one’s own home and written the letters?” Mother asked. “What an intriguing idea.”
“Except for the postmarks, of course. And the fact that Lady Heloise has long wanted to travel and was extremely excited about finally doing so. But one would think she would have used her own words, her own way of relating what she was seeing. As she is something of an artist, I would t
hink her observations would be a bit more descriptive, more colorful, if you will, than what I’ve read in her notes. Still...”
“Still, one does have to wonder if she was ever in Paris at all. Or France, either, for that matter.” Val raised his glass. “The plot thickens, as they say.”
“Indeed, it does,” Mother murmured. “Have you checked Galignani’s?”
“Galignani’s?” Derek shot his brother a questioning look.
Val shrugged. “It’s a bookshop.”
“Goodness, Percival,” Mother chastised. “It’s much more than that. Galignani’s publishes a paper—Galignani’s Messenger—that has daily lists of all the English and American visitors to Paris. It also publishes a weekly list of all English and American visitors to the other major cities of the continent.”
Derek stared. “So this paper would tell me when Lady Heloise arrived and—by extrapolation—when or if she left?”
Mother nodded. “Without question.”
Derek gritted his teeth and glared at his brother. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I didn’t think of it. Sorry.”
“I’ll stop at Galignani’s after I’m done with the detective tomorrow.” Derek nodded. “It would have been beneficial to have known this sooner.”
Val shrugged.
“And how do you plan to explain your absence to the always suspicious Miss Prendergast?” Val smiled in a smug manner. “It’s obvious she doesn’t trust you.” He paused. “But I think she likes you.”
“Not that I’ve noticed.” Derek heaved a frustrated sigh. Although she did say she was beginning to like him. Not enough to marry him of course—not that he had asked. “I daresay she’ll be grateful for a morning apart. Our day together did not go well.”
“Because she won’t marry you.” Sympathy sounded in Mother’s voice.
“I never asked!”
“Well, now you know the answer should you ever decide to ask.” Val sipped his whisky. “I’d say that’s most convenient. Saves you a great deal of trouble.”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen Page 23