“However, I have two sons and, as much as I love them dearly, I have long regretted not having had a daughter. There is nothing to be done about it now, of course, but there you have it.” She smiled wistfully. “I have always been most envious of those friends of mine who have had the pleasure of shopping for or with a daughter. I would consider it a very great favor if you would allow me to do so with you. And I do promise not to be too extravagant.”
“I see.” India didn’t know what to say. On one hand, clothes had never been important to her before. On the other, Paris—or something—had changed her. She’d begun to wonder if perhaps being sensible and practical and efficient didn’t have to mean she always needed to look sensible and practical and efficient.
“You may give my proposal due consideration of course but I will warn you, I will not accept any answer other than yes.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “We shall start visiting my favorite dressmakers first thing in the morning.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” India said, ignoring an unexpected stab of regret. “Derek and I need to continue to look for my cousin.”
“Derek is well capable of continuing the search on his own for a day or two,” Lady Westvale said firmly, then sipped her tea. “And it will do you good, as well, to think about something other than the missing Lady Heloise. I can’t imagine this has been easy for you.”
“I am worried. She is my only family, and I do miss her but...” India wasn’t sure why she was saying this, but Lady Westvale wasn’t nearly as intimidating as India had initially feared. She was really rather nice. “It has come to my attention that there may well be things about Heloise I didn’t know. Things I paid no attention to or things she didn’t wish me to know. It’s been something of a revelation, and I’m not sure how I feel about it all.”
“I understand completely.” The marchioness nodded in sympathy. “I doubt that anyone truly knows another person as well as we might think we do.”
“Probably not.”
“Furthermore, things don’t always turn out as we expect them to.”
“I never expected to be in Paris.”
“I would imagine you never expected to be friends with my son, either. You did say you consider yourself his friend?”
India nodded. “I do.”
“How very interesting,” she said thoughtfully. “That you are willing to be his friend, that is. When you’re not willing to consider marriage to him.”
“I thought you understood.” Why would no one leave this alone? India braced herself. “I’m not suitable for marriage to him, and under no stretch of the imagination would I be considered appropriate to be a countess.”
“I do apologize.” Lady Westvale shook her head in a mournful manner. “I had no idea you had, well, a criminal propensity.”
India could barely get out the words. “I most certainly do not! I have never broken any sort of law.”
“Your family then.” Lady Westvale broke off a piece of biscuit and popped it in her mouth.
“My family is most respectable.” Indignation raised India’s voice. “My parents were missionaries, and my cousin is the daughter of the previous Earl of Crenfield.”
“Good, decent people?”
“Without question!”
“Respectable, law-abiding and good is all anyone can ever ask, dear.” She paused. “Then, correct me if I’m wrong, but your only real objection to a match between you and my son is that such a match would not be correct as society sees such things?”
“Yes.” India nodded. “I am not a silly, foolish creature—” in spite of the evidence of her missing funds “—who believes in romantic nonsense. I understand the manner in which the world works.”
“I’ve never been overly fond of the way the world works. I think it’s frequently cruel and often absurd. Tell me, India, do you like Derek?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He’s quite nice.” She considered the question. “I didn’t think so at first, or perhaps I simply didn’t expect it, but I think so now. He’s very thoughtful of others and treats people with kindness. He helped the professor when he was under no obligation to do so. He’s quite clever. That, too, I did not expect, and saved me from an awkward situation.” At the risk of his own safety. “He has insisted on showing me the sights of Paris in spite of my reluctance. And I must admit, I am enjoying it.” And enjoying as well being with him. “He seems to make people feel, I don’t know, special perhaps. He is respectful toward the professor, engaging him in all sorts of academic discussions. Why, you can see the man practically preen under Derek’s attention. And he flirts outrageously with Mrs. Greer, which I found quite distasteful in the beginning, but she adores it. I’m not sure why, but it’s obvious that she does.
“He’s more, I don’t know, observant I think is the right word, than I anticipated. He sees things about me, notices things, that no one has ever seen or noticed before.” It was really rather remarkable now that she put it into words. “Not all of them nice, mind you, but all of them startlingly perceptive. Aside from a few instances, he’s quite candid. I’m not certain that I trust him, at least I didn’t in the beginning, but now...” she said more to herself than to the marchioness.
Now what?
Did she indeed at last trust him? She did have faith in him, confident that he would do what was right. Didn’t faith and trust go hand in hand?
Her breath caught at the revelation. Hadn’t she told him just this afternoon that she still didn’t trust him? Was that something she’d said because she was supposed to say it? Because she never expected to feel differently? But, if he was indeed a good man, a decent man, a man willing to reform, a man who was everything she’d just told his mother he was, why wouldn’t she trust him?
“Now?” Lady Westvale prompted.
“Now I...I like him.” Perhaps she more than liked him.
“I see.”
India shrugged helplessly.
“My, this is interesting,” the marchioness murmured, then drew a deep breath. “You should know something about my son, India. Derek has been in love any number of times that I know of and I suspect several more that I don’t. In each and every instance, the lady was eminently suitable to be the next Countess of Danby. They were all exactly the type of woman you say he is expected to marry. And yet, not one of those instances led to marriage or even an engagement.”
India couldn’t help herself. “Why not?”
“Because, even though they were right in terms of money and position and everything else you—and society for that matter—seem to think is appropriate, they were not right for him.”
“That is...interesting.”
“My dear India. One of the nicest things about having a title and money—especially money—is that you can do very much as you wish and people forgive you for it. I never once married for position or financial considerations. Derek’s father was a second son with no prospects whatsoever. My second husband, Percival’s father, was a marquess with a sizable fortune but not when I married him. He was not poor, of course—I long ago realized true poverty would not suit me, but I had no idea he was heir to a cousin’s title and wealth. And my husband now, my dearest Stephen, has both money and title—another marquess, which was ever so convenient—and did so when I married him, but I would have married him if he’d had nothing at all.” She smiled in a knowing manner. “Money and position, my dear, are not as difficult to find as a good man. Particularly one who claims your heart. I have been extraordinarily lucky. Love, in this world, is remarkably hard to find. I have been well loved by three wonderful men and I have loved them in return.”
She paused thoughtfully. “If I had known I would lose Henry, Derek’s father, as soon as I did, I would have cherished every moment. I feel the same about
Percival’s father, Arthur. But one never knows what one has until it’s gone.” Resolve sounded in her voice. “I will not make the same mistake with Stephen. I make certain he knows, every single day, in words and deed, how much I care for him.”
India smiled. “That’s quite lovely.”
“Yes, well, as I said one hopefully learns something as one travels the path of life,” she said in a brusque manner as if she had said more than she had intended. “I’m not sure why I have told you all this except that I suppose I wanted you to know that the example I set for my sons is not one of concern for the matters that society deems important. Both Derek and Percival intend to marry for love, which is probably why they have not wed.” She sighed. “That’s a problem I have yet to solve. I simply want them to be happy, and the right woman will do that for them. I know the right man did that for me. All three of them.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I THINK YOU should tell her everything.”
Derek stopped in midpace and stared at his brother. “Do you really?”
“Well, your other alternative is to tell her absolutely nothing. I’m not sure one option is particularly better than the other.” Val shrugged. “But apparently your Miss Prendergast is especially fond of novels of detection. She might well appreciate the twists and turns the search for her cousin has taken.”
“Do you realize when you sit behind your grandfather’s desk in this imposing library, you look like you actually know what you’re saying.”
“I do know that.” Val planted his palms flat on the desk in an all-encompassing gesture, looking not unlike a king surveying his domain. “It’s why I sit here. I am wise beyond my years, brother.”
“In your eyes only.”
“Come now, I have just given you excellent advice. It’s not my fault that you refuse to take it.”
“You’ve just explained my choices. Choices I am already well aware of. You’ve given me no advice whatsoever.”
“Again.” Val smirked. “Beyond my years.”
“Good Lord,” Derek muttered and resumed pacing.
At least he didn’t need to make a decision at the moment. India and his mother were now in their third day of laying siege to the dress shops of Paris. He’d barely seen her at all, except in passing, since their kiss and subsequent argument. But then he’d been avoiding dinner, and, according to Estelle, so had India. Which was probably for the best.
“As much as I love Mother, as much as I am grateful she is keeping India occupied, the idea of the two of them spending so much time together strikes fear into my heart. They’ve forged some sort of unholy alliance. That union cannot possibly bode well.” He paused and looked at his brother. “What do you think they talk about?”
“Oh, Mother probably goes on about the newest fashions and latest style and what color is de rigueur this season. And your Miss Prendergast undoubtedly loses no opportunity to point out what miscreants Mother’s sons are.”
“That sounds right.” Derek sighed and continued to pace.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. It was a mistake. Oh, not kissing her exactly but kissing her then and there, although he had apologized even if she did kiss him first. And while not his finest moment, there had been the loveliest sense of promise in her kiss.
She’d been so delightfully tempting with those green eyes and perfect posture and ever-so-earnest manner. He wasn’t sure when she’d stopped being annoying and had become irresistible. Although she did continue to be fairly annoying, which oddly enough simply added to her appeal. Nor was he sure which one of them was responsible for that debacle on top of the world—probably both. But he had been truly wounded that even now, after spending so much time together, after he had told her things he’d never told anyone, she still did not trust him. Bloody hell, he was putting up with her campaign to convince him to give up his wicked ways! What more could a man do for a woman?
“I think what you need is practice.”
“Practice?” Derek rolled his gaze at the ceiling. “And what, pray tell, do you think I need to practice?”
“Perhaps practice is not as good a word as, oh, rehearsal.”
“Rehearsal?” Derek raised a brow. “Like a stage play?”
“Exactly.” Val leaned back in his chair. “I shall play the role of Miss Prendergast and you shall be you.”
“This is absurd,” Derek said and plopped into a chair.
“I prefer to think of it as brilliant.”
Derek snorted.
“Now then, Mr. Saunders,” Val adopted an overly high falsetto and sat up rigidly straight in his chair. “You scandalous beast of a scoundrel you, tell me what you learned from the detective.”
“She doesn’t sound like that.” Derek bit back a grin.
“Oh come now, you naughty, naughty boy, I sound exactly like this.” Val wagged his finger. “Now, you wicked man, answer my question.”
“Very well.” He thought for a moment. “The detective—”
“What detective?”
“The one hired by my uncle.” Derek had met with him two days ago, seen him yesterday and then again today.
Val gasped in an exaggerated manner. “Your uncle hired detectives?”
Derek nodded. “He wished to help.”
“What a brilliant idea.” Val narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me, you rogue, you?”
“I...” Why didn’t he tell her? Because even at the beginning he’d wanted to prove something to her? Or to himself? “I don’t know,” he said sharply. “Go on.”
“You haven’t answered my question, you wayward reprobate.” Val heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “What did the detective tell you?”
“His investigation showed Lady Heloise never arrived in Paris.” A fact Derek had confirmed for himself by checking the lists of visitors kept at Galignani’s. “Nor was she apparently ever in France at all.”
“Not in France!” Val clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Goodness, how can you say such a thing, you vile creature! I received letters from her from Le Havre and Rouen and Trouville as well as Paris.”
“Letters that were all taken word for word from guidebooks.”
“Poor, dear Heloise has never been very original.” Val heaved another heartfelt sigh.
“You do realize you sound ridiculous.”
“No more ridiculous than I feel.” Val fluttered his lashes. “Do go on, you villainous cad.”
“The letters were indeed written by your cousin but...” This was where the whole thing became rather messy.
“Yes?” Val’s falsetto was even higher if possible.
“But she did not mail them.” Derek paused. “Mademoiselle Marquette, her maid, mailed them for her.”
Derek had spent much of the day accompanying Uncle Edward’s detective to and from the picturesque village of Chantilly, northeast of Paris, an hour or so away by train. According to the investigator, this was the home of Mademoiselle Marquette’s family. It wasn’t at all hard to find the woman, but it took much prodding, appeals to her better nature and threatening to involve the authorities to get the truth from her.
She admitted Lady Heloise had entrusted her to post letters destined for India from various locations in France, including Paris. Mademoiselle Marquette was further expected to continue on to travel throughout Switzerland, Italy, Greece and a number of other places for a full six months, funding for said travel provided by Lady Heloise. The woman was charged with sending the letters Lady Heloise had written back to India from the places she visited. It was an interesting scheme and would have progressed exactly as planned had not Mademoiselle Marquette decided to pay a visit to her home. She was then so overcome with missing her family, she decided it would do no harm to stay for a while. Apparently, it had taken her several weeks to come to
the realization that now that she had returned to the bosom of her family she did not wish to leave, and her obligation to mail Lady Heloise’s letters paled in comparison to her own desires.
Mademoiselle Marquette declared she had sent all the remaining letters back to Lady Heloise in recent days as well as arranged to return the funds she’d been given for travel, minus a bit for her troubles, which she insisted she deserved. While her loyalty to her employer did not extend to continuing her ruse, it apparently did apply to revealing why Lady Heloise had initiated this scheme in the first place and where she was currently. The maid assured Derek Lady Heloise was safe and well but adamantly refused to reveal the lady’s present location. She did, however, imply Lady Heloise had never left England. Uncle Edward’s detective was confident, with this information, she would soon be found.
Upon their return to Paris, Derek sent a telegram to his uncle, asking to be informed the moment the older lady was located.
“Oh, my goodness.” Val rested a limp wrist against his forehead. “Why would she do such a thing? And where is she now?”
“I don’t know.” Derek blew a frustrated breath. “I don’t have the answer to any of that.”
“And that may well be your biggest quandary at the moment,” Val said, resuming his usual voice.
“I have already realized that, but thank you for pointing it out.”
“I believe my initial advice is still the best course. Tell her everything. At the very least it will prove to her this is not the fault of the Lady Travelers Society, and by association, Lady Blodgett’s or yours. As much as it will disappoint her to know she was wrong about you—that you have not been defrauding helpless women out of their savings.”
“I’m not sure it’s worth it.” Derek had been wrestling with this ever since he’d learned the truth.
“Why? Because then she will no longer need to reform you?” Val’s eyes narrowed in a speculative manner. “Or because then she can return to England, and your continuing association will be at an end?”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen Page 25