The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen

by Victoria Alexander

  “Derek?” She stepped back, a frown furrowing her forehead. “What has been taken out of your hands?”

  “I...” Even as he said the words he knew it was a mistake. But what choice did he have? “I really can’t say.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then held out her hand. “May I see the telegram?”

  He hesitated.

  “Bloody hell.” Val jumped to his feet and grabbed the telegram out of Derek’s hand. “Of course you can. He has nothing to hide.” He passed the paper to India and glared at his brother. “Even if he’s doing all he can to make you think he does.”

  “What does this mean?” India read the message. “Snuggs wishes Prendergast be told she is home. Requests nothing further be said.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” Her gaze met his. “Do you?”

  “No,” Val said sharply.

  “Yes,” Derek said at the same time.

  “Would you care to explain it to me?”

  For a long moment their gazes locked. He ached to reveal everything. And while she might appreciate his candor, he knew he could cause irreparable damage by doing so. He couldn’t risk her losing the only family she had.

  “As I said,” he said slowly, “it is not my story to tell.”

  Disappointment and hurt filled her green eyes. “But you do know this story, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Some of it.”

  “And you have known for some time?”

  “No.” He shook his head firmly.

  “But you knew before last night?”

  “I did.”

  “I see.”

  I see? Never a good response but she was wrong. I see said a great deal. About trust and betrayal and disappointment.

  He drew a deep breath. “You should go home, India,” he said quietly. “You need to speak with Heloise.”

  “Indeed I do.” Her tone was abruptly brisk and impersonal. “If you will excuse me, I must gather my things.” She nodded at the group, turned and left.

  Derek hesitated then followed her out of the room. “India.”

  “What?” She whirled toward him.

  “Let me explain.”

  “Very well.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Explain.”

  “I only found out about this a few days ago.”

  “Then you had a few days to tell me about whatever this is and you chose not to.”

  As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deny it. “I thought it was best, given Heloise had not yet been located.”

  “And now that she has—” her eyes narrowed “—it’s not your story to tell?”

  A horrible sinking sensation settled in his chest. “I’m afraid so.”

  “I see.”

  He winced.

  “Then if you will excuse me.” She nodded, turned and headed toward the stairs.

  He wanted to run after her, confess everything but—regardless of whatever happened between them now—he would not be the one to destroy her relationship with the only family she had. Heloise’s secrets were hers to tell. He could do nothing more than stand by India’s side. If she would let him.

  “What are you going to do?” Val asked beside him. Derek hadn’t even heard him approach.

  “Go with her,” Derek said without thinking.

  Val nodded. “I shall have a maid pack your bags. While we wait...” He took his brother’s elbow and steered him toward the library. “I think a whisky is in order.”

  “It’s too early in the day,” he murmured.

  “Good God, what has she done to you?”

  “Nothing more than any avenging angel bent on reforming my wicked ways might do.” He slanted his brother a halfhearted smile. “She has stolen my heart.”

  * * *

  A SCANT QUARTER of an hour later, voices sounded outside the library door. Surely India couldn’t be ready to leave so soon? Derek and Val exchanged glances and hurried into the hall.

  India had changed into her gray dress and stood talking to the professor and Estelle, Luckthorne by her side. A subtle gleam of victory showed in the man’s eyes. It did not bode well.

  “Lord Brookings.” India turned to Val with a polite smile. “I would like to thank you for your gracious hospitality. You have been most welcoming under awkward circumstances.”

  “It has been my pleasure, Miss Prendergast.” Val took her hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “I hate to see you go.”

  “Are you leaving?” Mother’s voice rang from the stairway and she hurried down the steps. “Surely not without saying goodbye?”

  “I had intended to,” India began, “but—”

  “But we do need to be on our way if we are to be home at a reasonable hour,” Luckthorne said firmly.

  Mother shot him a curious look, then turned her attention back to India, stepped toward her and took her hands. “My dear child, I shall miss you terribly.”

  India paused then smiled. “I shall miss you, as well.”

  Mother glanced around. “Aren’t you taking your new clothes with you?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to put them in. My trunk...” She shrugged. “Well, you know.”

  “I shall have them delivered to you in London.” Mother nodded in that way she had of ending a subject, then leaned close to India and kissed her cheek.

  “Thank you,” India said quietly.

  “I don’t believe my bags are ready yet.” Derek glanced at his brother. “Would you have my things sent on to me?”

  Val nodded.

  “Excellent.” He turned to India. “As Sir Martin is so eager to be on our way, we should be off.”

  Luckthorne’s eyes widened. “You’re coming with us?”

  “I am.” Derek directed his words at Luckthorne but kept his gaze fixed on India. “I started this quest with Miss Prendergast. I intend to see it through to the end.”

  Luckthorne scowled. “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “Regardless, I don’t intend to be left behind.” Derek shrugged in a casual manner as if this wasn’t the least bit important.

  “I see no reason why you should accompany us.” Luckthorne stepped toward him in a challenging manner. Good. Perhaps Derek would get to thrash the man, after all.

  “Might I speak privately with you for a moment, Mr. Saunders?” India stepped between the two men. “In the library perhaps?” She glanced at Val. “My lord?”

  “Of course.” Val nodded.

  “Thank you—this won’t take long.” She walked into the library with a resolute step, Derek right behind.

  “I shall hail a cab for—”

  Derek closed the doors on Luckthorne’s comment. He stepped toward her. “India.”

  “Derek.” She held out a hand to stop him. “I am doing exactly what you said I should do. I am returning home to speak with Heloise.”

  “Let me go with you.”

  “No.” She paused. “I am trying very hard to retain whatever semblance of my sensible nature that may still linger. I suspect it is the only way for me to proceed at this point. You have no place in that.”

  “But—”

  “I cannot, at the moment, consider the repercussions of our actions last night or what was said.”

  “What was said was that I love you and you love me.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes. “However...”

  “However,” he said slowly, “even now you cannot bring yourself to completely trust me.”

  “In that you’re wrong,” she said sharply, her gaze snapping to his. “The problem between us is that you don’t trust me. You don’t trust that I can face whatever this story that is not yours to tell ent
ails. You don’t trust that I have the strength or the courage or whatever is necessary. You don’t trust that I will not fall apart at this revelation, whatever it may be. You may well be right but...” She drew a steadying breath. “I would hope, after all this time together, you had as much faith in me as I do in you.”

  “I do,” he said staunchly.

  “Furthermore, it appears I was right all along.” She shook her head. “I am not the type of woman—no—I am not the woman you should marry.”

  He could deny it but it would do no good. “I don’t know what to say.”

  She smiled a resigned sort of smile, and his heart twisted. “I think we’ve both said quite enough.” She turned toward the door, then looked back at him. “I believe one of the Lady Travelers pamphlets says travel is an unexpected adventure. Thank you, Mr. Saunders, for the unexpected and the adventure.” She nodded, opened the door, then closed it behind her.

  For a long moment, he could do nothing more than stare, stunned by the finality of the faint thud of the door closing behind her. The woman he loved had just walked out of his life, and there was little he could do about it. Surely this awful aching sensation, this almost physical pain was heartbreak.

  No, resolve coursed through him. She was wrong. Again. He did have faith in her, in them. Why, the chances that they would ever meet in the first place let alone fall in love were slim. That they had found each other—the carefree scoundrel and the sensible spinster—was nothing short of a miracle. Or fate. And that was worth fighting for.

  Trust had nothing to do with it. Letting Heloise tell her story was absolutely the right decision even if India didn’t yet realize it. But she would and he would be there when she did. Once, he might have let her go. Resigned himself to the fact that he had lost her and go on with his life. But if he had learned nothing else from Uncle Edward in these months since his birthday it was that making the right decision was rarely easy. It took strength and courage and, yes, faith. Derek could be—he was—a better man than he had imagined. A man his father would be proud of.

  India Prendergast was exactly the kind of woman—the only woman—he should marry. And he intended to do exactly that. Now he simply had to convince the stubborn, annoying creature who did not believe in love or romance that he was right and, once again, she was wrong.

  He grinned. Another grand, romantic gesture was called for and he knew exactly what it should be.

  The door opened and Val stepped into the library, followed closely by his mother.

  Val stared. “Why on earth are you smiling? You do realize she’s gone?”

  “I do.”

  “She left this for you.” Val handed him the souvenir medal he had given her on the Eiffel Tower. “She said she didn’t need it.”

  “Well, I shall have to return it to her.” Derek slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

  “Then you are going to go after her?” Mother said hopefully.

  “Not quite yet.”

  “Why on earth not?” Mother’s eyes widened. “She’s accompanying Sir Martin, and I am certain he is going to use whatever has happened between you to try to engage her affections.”

  “Sir Martin has had years to engage India’s affections.” Derek chuckled. “I doubt that his efforts will be successful now.”

  “How can you possibly be sure of that?” Mother glared at him as if he had lost his mind.

  “Faith, Mother.” He shrugged. “It all comes down to faith.”

  Val studied him closely. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

  “More or less.”

  “Then you should be on your way to London.” Mother waved in the general direction of England. “At once.”

  “Oh, I will but not quite yet. First—” he grinned “—I need to go to Prague.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “IT IS GOOD to have you back, Miss.” Denker, Heloise’s butler, greeted India at the door.

  “Thank you, Denker. It is good to be home.” India heaved a weary sigh. It was far later than she had hoped, but then there were moments during the journey from Paris when it had seemed endless.

  In the eight years she had worked for Martin, she could not remember ever thinking him irritating. Or ever wishing he would just stop talking, if only for a moment. But Martin went on and on about how Derek was not the right man for her and how he should probably be thrown in prison. It was pointless to argue, even if she’d had the strength to do so. Finally, she had told him she didn’t wish to hear another word about Mr. Saunders and had said so in her coolest, no-nonsense manner.

  The last thing she wanted to talk about was Derek. It was bad enough that she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts. She had trusted him, but how could you trust a man who kept secrets from you? Even if those secrets were not his to tell. Which made no sense at all.

  “Lady Heloise assumed you would be arriving today, although she was not certain when,” Denker said. “She is in her rooms and asked that I awaken her when you arrived.”

  “Thank you, Denker.” India paused. “How is she?”

  “Frankly, Miss Prendergast, I don’t believe she has ever been better.”

  India stared at him. “Do you really think so?”

  “He thinks so, dear India, because it’s true.” Heloise sailed down the stairs and didn’t so much as pause before throwing her arms around India in a warm embrace. “My darling girl, I am so sorry I worried you. That was the very last thing I wished to do.”

  Whether it was her concern over Heloise or the awful ache that had gripped her since leaving Derek, but something inside India shattered at Heloise’s touch and she sobbed against the older woman.

  “My poor child.” Heloise rocked India and patted her head. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you cry before. Not even when you were a girl.”

  “I don’t cry.” India sobbed. “I never cry.”

  “I know, dear. I’ve always found it most concerning.”

  India drew her head back and frowned. “Why?”

  “Because it seems to me you have always held everything tightly inside you. As if you were afraid to let yourself feel too much. Or perhaps let others know that you did feel.”

  “Nonsense.” India impatiently dashed the tears from her face and stepped back. “Where have you been? Why did you stop writing to me? What is it that you didn’t want anyone else to tell me?”

  “We do have a great deal to talk about. I have much to tell you, including one or two things I probably should have told you long ago.” Heloise took India’s arm and led her into the parlor. “You should sit down.”

  “I don’t want to sit down,” India said but sat on the sofa nonetheless. “What I want is answers.”

  “And you shall have them.” Heloise settled on the sofa beside her. “But I daresay you won’t like them.”

  “I don’t expect to.”

  “Try not to judge too harshly, India.” Heloise thought for a moment. “First, I never left England.”

  “What?” Of all the things India had been expecting—or perhaps feared—this was not among them. “But I received a number of letters from you.”

  “I did write the letters.” She leaned forward in a confidential manner. “I found the Baedeker guides most helpful in that.”

  India stared. “They were very authentic.”

  “I thought so.” Heloise nodded with satisfaction. “I wrote the letters and planned the itinerary with the help of the Lady Travelers Society—lovely women, I might add.”

  This made no sense at all. India nodded numbly.

  “Then I sent Mademoiselle Marquette off on a tour of Europe with the letters in one hand and sufficient funds in the other.” Heloise beamed as if she was quite proud of herself.

  India wasn’t sure she wished to hear more but, like
a moth, this was a flame she could not resist. “And?”

  “And that’s where everything unraveled.” Heloise heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Mademoiselle made it as far as Paris, decided to visit her family, somewhere close to Paris—I forget where—and then abandoned the entire plan, returning the remaining letters and most of the money I’d given her. This was extremely upsetting, and I would have discharged her at once had she not already submitted her resignation.”

  India could hardly believe her ears. All Heloise needed was a dead body and a fortune in stolen loot and she’d have all the makings for an excellent detective story.

  India shook her head in confusion. “But why?”

  “For you, dear.”

  “For me?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Well, it didn’t quite go the way you wished,” India said sharply. “I have been terribly worried.”

  “Precisely why I wish I could have discharged Mademoiselle Marquette myself.” Heloise pressed her lips together. “She has proved most disappointing.”

  India stared. “I went to Paris to find you!”

  “I know.” A brilliant smile creased Heloise’s lips. “I was so proud of you when I heard that. Was it wonderful?”

  “Yes,” she said without thinking, but it was true. In spite of everything, it had been wonderful.

  “I must admit I am a wee bit jealous. I believe I shall have to go to Paris myself soon. I have always wanted to, you know.”

  “Heloise.” India inhaled a calming breath. “Why did you arrange all this to make me think you were traveling when you say you never left England?”

  “Yes, well.” Heloise winced. “That is a bit awkward.”

  “That is the awkward part?” India snorted. “I can hardly wait to hear this.”

  “Sarcasm, India.” Heloise cast her a chastising look.

  “Go on.”

  “Very well.” Heloise folded her hands in her lap. “Some thirty-four years ago, when I was seventeen, I fell madly, passionately in love with a young man only a few years older than I. He was tall and dashing with dark hair and blue eyes. He had the most wonderful laugh and the wickedest smile I’d ever seen, as if he could see through to my very soul and my most secret desires.” She smiled with the memory. “You’re so sensible, I’m sure you can’t imagine how easy it would be to fall in love with a man like that.”