The Lady Travelers Guide To Scoundrels And Other Gentlemen

CHAPTER THREE

While travel is the dream of many ladies, the first step in setting forth from one’s native land should not be taken lightly. Without planning and preparation—the keys to successful travel—one might find oneself in unexpected difficulties far from home. Which is not at all the kind of adventure even the most intrepid among us seek.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

THE WOMAN HE’D noticed sitting beside Miss Honeywell stood in the now open doorway, a leather lady’s traveling handbag on her arm, an umbrella in her hand. Derek could have sworn he had closed the door, but perhaps she had been listening on the other side. He wouldn’t be surprised. There was an air of determination about her, from the top of her sensible hat perched firmly on nondescript brown hair to the tips of her sturdy, practical shoes. She was at least a head shorter than he, yet managed to convey an impression of towering indignation and barely suppressed ire. This was a woman who would let nothing stand in her path.

“Well, that’s that, Derek.” Aunt Guinevere rose to her feet, Derek a beat behind her. He could almost see the tiny gears and flywheels of her mind working. The woman was planning her escape. “As much as I would love to continue our discussion—” she cast a brilliant smile at the stranger “—it seems we have the needs of a member to attend to.”

“The needs of the membership must come first,” Mrs. Higginbotham said firmly and stood. Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore followed suit.

“I am most certainly not a member,” the intruder said.

“Then you must be here to join.” Enthusiasm rang in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice. “How delightful.”

“I am not here—” the young woman began.

“I beg your pardon, miss, but you are intruding on a private meeting,” Derek said in a harder tone than he might otherwise have taken, but she struck him as the kind of woman who would respond to nothing less than a firm, resolute manner. “However, as it’s obvious you are not going to let a little thing like a closed door dissuade you, please do me the courtesy of allowing me a moment.”

“My apologies for the interruption, but the door was not closed.” She glared at him. “Do go on.”

“Thank you.” Derek breathed a bit easier. He had long prided himself on being an excellent judge of character—especially when it came to the fairer sex—although it did not take any particular skill to see this woman was both irate and indomitable. Nor was it especially far-fetched to assume this was Miss India Prendergast, as he was fairly certain Miss Prendergast’s cousin was the only traveler the society had lost thus far. At least he had bought himself a minute, maybe two.

He turned to his great-aunt. “Sit down, Aunt Guinevere.”

She opened her mouth as if she was about to refuse, then sighed and retook her seat.

He directed a hard gaze at her coconspirators. Both Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore looked as if they were about to sprint for the door. Under other circumstances, Derek would have paid a great deal to have seen that. “All of you.”

The ladies sat, and Derek’s attention shifted back to the newcomer. He’d been expecting Miss Prendergast to make an appearance ever since he’d discovered her letters to the society and realized they’d been ignored. From her increasingly adamant correspondence, he did not think she was a woman who took well to being ignored. What he did not expect was the eyes flashing with suspicion and accusation to be so vividly green. Or that the lips now pressed together in disapproval would be so full and appealing—ripe was the word that came to mind. Nor did he expect the figure encased in eminently sensible, practical and unflattering clothing to be quite so provocative. And he did not anticipate she would be so young—no more than thirty he guessed. Derek had always had the knack of noticing a woman’s good points well before her flaws. It was part of his nature, and he considered it a gift he employed well. Ladies did seem to appreciate it. Even so, it was obvious no amount of charm would endear him to Miss India Prendergast.

Still, nothing ventured, as they said. He adopted his most pleasant smile. “Thank you for your patience, Miss Prendergast?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Have we met?”

“I have not had that pleasure.”

“I assure you, I do not intend for it to be a pleasure,” she said in a curt manner.

No, charm would not work with Miss Prendergast. Regardless, it was all he had.

“Nor do I expect it to be, Miss Prendergast, as we have a situation of some difficulty to address. But first, I am Mr. Derek Saunders—”

“I know who you are.”

“Then an introduction is not necessary.” He gestured toward the older ladies. “But allow me to introduce my great-aunt Guinevere, Lady Blodgett, and her friends—Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and Mrs. Higginbotham.”

“It’s a very great pleasure to meet you, Miss Prendergast,” Aunt Guinevere began, “even under such trying circumstances. I can assure you it was never our intention—”

“Not to respond to your letters of concern,” Derek cut in smoothly. God knows what Aunt Guinevere was about to confess, but he was sure it would do more harm than good. Far better to move on to finding Lady Heloise than acknowledge the incompetence of his aunt and her friends. “We understand how difficult this must be. I assure you, we are doing all in our power to locate Lady Heloise.”

“Are you?” Her brows rose. “It did not sound that way to me.”

“One never hears anything good when one is engaged in eavesdropping,” Mrs. Higginbotham chided.

“I was not eavesdropping,” Miss Prendergast said coolly. “As I said, the door was open.”

“And yet I could have sworn I had closed it.” Derek adopted a polite smile.

“Which is entirely beside the point.” Miss Prendergast squared her shoulders. “What are you doing to find my cousin?”

“Please, have a seat, Miss Prendergast, so that we may discuss this in a civilized manner.” Derek indicated another chair.

“Yes, indeed, Miss Prendergast,” Aunt Guinevere said. “It’s most awkward with all of us seated and you standing there like an avenging angel. Why, you’ve quite frightened poor Poppy nearly to death.”

“I am easily terrified.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore widened her eyes. Derek wished she would look a little more frightened and a little less like a stage actress in a bad play.

“I have no desire to sit, and I am unfailingly civilized,” Miss Prendergast stated but sat in the empty chair nonetheless.

“Derek.” Aunt Guinevere turned to him. “Perhaps you would be so good as to ask Sidney to bring us some tea.” She glanced at the others. “I think a spot of tea would serve us all well right now.”

“Brilliant idea, Gwen,” Mrs. Higginbotham agreed. “I think tea is exactly what poor Poppy needs to calm her nerves.”

“Oh, I do.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore fanned her face with her hand. “I truly do.”

Derek closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

“Come now, Derek.” Aunt Guinevere sighed. “You needn’t look quite so long-suffering. Even the most insurmountable problem can be worked out over a steaming cup of tea.” She directed Miss Prendergast her most gracious smile. “Don’t you agree, dear?”

“Well...” For a moment, the formidable Miss Prendergast looked somewhat taken aback. While Derek’s charms would obviously get nowhere with the woman, perhaps his great-aunt’s would. “Yes, thank you.”

Oh no. The last thing he needed was to fortify Miss Prendergast with tea. Nor did it seem wise to leave the older ladies alone with her.

“I don’t think tea is necessary right now,” he said firmly. “Perhaps later.” He turned to Miss Prendergast. “We have a great deal to discuss and a number of decisions to make.”

“Indeed.” She shook her head as if to clear whatever spell his aunt had cast on her, then sat up straighter if possible. Derek didn’t think he’d ever seen posture quite so rigid.

“I demand to know what steps you are taking to find my cousin.” The avenging angel was back.

“No tea then?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said in an aside to Mrs. Higginbotham, who simply shrugged.

“As you no doubt heard, I have contacted a private agency in regard to locating the missing Lady Heloise.”

“I also heard this agency said it would take time and considerable resources, which I take to mean funding.” Miss Prendergast glared at him. “Am I correct?”

“I’m afraid so. Therefore, it seems to me there is only one thing to do.” He braced himself. “I shall have to go after Lady Heloise myself.”

“Excellent suggestion, dear boy. Now that we have that settled...” Aunt Guinevere started to rise, caught sight of the look on Derek’s face, then sank back into her chair. “Although I am certain there is still much to discuss.”

Her friends exchanged resigned looks.

“And what investigative skills do you have, Mr. Saunders?” Miss Prendergast crossed her arms over her chest. “What qualifies you for this kind of undertaking?”

“Admittedly, I have no investigative skills as such.” Derek adopted a businesslike manner. “However, I am well educated, I have traveled extensively on the continent, I speak three languages and I am more than capable of following the trail of a woman who has somehow become misplaced.”

“You are the one who misplaced her!”

“That, Miss Prendergast, is a question of some debate,” he said sharply.

Her eyes widened in outrage. “Do you deny it then?”

“We do not escort our members on their journeys—we do not take them by the hand and accompany them. Therefore, we cannot be held responsible if they choose to wander off course.” As much as his argument did have a nice, rational ring to it, given what he’d seen of the unconfirmed arrangements his great-aunt and the other ladies had made for Lady Heloise, he was fairly certain the authorities might see the situation differently.

“I daresay the police might disagree as to your responsibility for your members.” Her eyes narrowed. “As would the newspapers.”

“That would be awkward,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore murmured.

“Scandal always is, dear.” Aunt Guinevere grimaced.

“I contend that the legal responsibility for your missing cousin is uncertain.” Derek chose his words with care. “But I will concede to a possible moral obligation.”

“Possible?” She snorted in disdain.

“And I will not allow the reputation of this organization to be put at risk.” He stood, braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward, his gaze locked on hers. “We do our best at the Lady Travelers Society and Assistance Agency to serve our members with expert aid and guidance in the planning and implementation of itineraries in their quest to fulfill their dreams of adventure through travel.” He couldn’t believe he had just said that, and without wincing.

Mrs. Higginbotham snickered, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore choked and Aunt Guinevere stared.

“Be that as it may, Mr. Saunders.” Miss Prendergast stood, her angry gaze never slipping from his. “My cousin is not the type of woman to fail in her correspondence when she knows such a failure would cause a great deal of alarm.” Concern flashed through Miss Prendergast’s eyes so quickly he might have been mistaken. Obviously this was not a woman who allowed her emotions to show. “Nor is she the type of woman to wander off her predetermined course. Therefore, something has happened to her.” She leaned closer, her manner mirroring his. “I will not rest until I am assured of her safety. Failing that, I will make certain those responsible pay for shirking their obligations, moral or otherwise.”

For a long moment he stared at her, a voice in the back of his head warning him not to be the first one to look away. Backing down from Miss India Prendergast would be a mistake that could never be corrected.

Aunt Guinevere cleared her throat. “When do you intend to leave, Derek?”

“As soon as possible. I will need a day to make certain my affairs are in order, but I anticipate leaving no later than the day after tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” Miss Prendergast’s eyes flashed. “That will give me time to arrange for a leave of absence from my position.”

Her position? Was she a governess? Or a teacher of some sort? Surely not. She didn’t strike him as having the temperament needed to be patient with children. Although an unruly child would surely meet his match in Miss Prendergast.

“And what kind of position would that be, Miss Prendergast?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore asked brightly.

At last Miss Prendergast pulled her gaze from his, and the most ridiculous sense of triumph and relief washed through him.

“I hold the position of secretarial assistant to Sir Martin Luckthorne,” she said, retaking her seat. “He understands my concern about my cousin and will grant me the time required to find her.”

“The time required?” Derek stared. At once he realized her intentions. “Surely I misunderstand what you are saying.”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” she said coolly. “I daresay there are any number of things you misunderstand. You don’t strike me as being particularly perceptive.”

Mrs. Higginbotham snorted.

Any sense of triumph he might have had vanished under the specter of traveling with this epitome of outrage and indignation. “I have no intention of allowing you to accompany me.”

“Allowing me?” Her brow arched upward in disdain. “I was not asking your permission. I will not be left behind.”

“Regardless, I will not be taking you with me,” he said firmly. The last thing he needed was this termagant dogging his every move.

“Very well then.” She shrugged. “I shall simply follow you. Do not underestimate my resolve, Mr. Saunders. Everywhere you go, I will go, as well. I shall be no more than one step behind you until you find my cousin.”

Bloody hell. This was a disaster in the making. If anything should happen to her, the blame would be laid squarely at his feet for not allowing her the protection of his company. Regardless, he had no desire to spend more time than was absolutely necessary with this woman. The moment she’d opened her mouth, he’d known the best thing about searching for Lady Heloise was that it would take him far away from her cousin.

“There is not one legitimate reason why I should permit you to come with me.”

“I believe I just gave you one.” She smirked. “However, I can give you another. I have her letters detailing where she has been as well as her plans.”

“If I remember correctly, according to her itinerary, she could be in Switzerland by now. Unless she decided Switzerland was not to her liking,” Mrs. Higginbotham said thoughtfully, “and set off for Greece.”

“Oh, I think I would much prefer Greece to Switzerland.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore nodded eagerly. “Greece sounds so warm and sunny, and Switzerland brings to mind snow and mountain goats. Although I imagine at this time of year Switzerland might be quite pleasant whereas Greece might be too warm. Perhaps you should start there?”

Derek stared in confusion. “Greece or Switzerland?”

“I think not.” Miss Prendergast’s look clearly said she thought he was an idiot. “Her last letter was from France.”

“My inclination is to retrace her steps in an effort to determine where she might be now.” Derek made no attempt to hide the resignation in his voice; it was obvious there would be no good way to rid himself of Miss Prendergast.

Miss Prendergast gave him a grudging glance of agreement. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Being of like minds is a superb way to begin,” Aunt Guinevere said. “Now then, Miss Prendergast, did you have a chaperone in mind?”

“A chaperone?” The younger woman’s eyes widened in surprise.

Derek groaned. Of course they would need a chaperone. A man and woman—even if they did not especially like each other—could not go running across the continent together if they were unmarried. Her reputation would be ruined, and while he’d never given his own any particular concern, with Uncle Edward’s edict to straighten out his life hanging over his head, now was not the time to add to the long list of questionable behavior his uncle was keeping. Besides, this might be just what he needed to stop Miss Prendergast from accompanying him.

“A chaperone, Miss Prendergast, is essential,” he said smoothly, resisting the urge to grin. “Propriety demands nothing less. As does your own reputation, which I assume is spotless—”

Miss Prendergast’s jaw tightened. “I am willing to risk my reputation.”

“Your decision, of course. However, the reputation of the Lady Travelers Society is also at stake. As is the reputation of my aunt and her friends.” He shook his head in a regretful manner. “If it were to become known that the society, or these upstanding ladies, sanctioned an unmarried couple traveling alone together, well, surely you can understand the repercussions.”

“Scandal, Miss Prendergast,” Mrs. Higginbotham said darkly. “Nothing short of scandal.”

“We will all be ruined.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore sighed deeply. “And any chance you have for a good marriage, Miss Prendergast, will be destroyed.”

Miss Prendergast paused, obviously to summon a measure of calm, although Derek could see it wasn’t easy for her. “My concern right now is for the safety of Lady Heloise. My reputation is the very least of my worries. I am nearly thirty years of age, and the prospect of marriage is not a consideration.”

“Oh, but my dear girl.” Encouragement shone in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s eyes. “You must not give up hope. I was in my thirty-first year when I met and married my dear Malcolm. One is never too old to find true love and lasting companionship.”

“And one shouldn’t throw away the possibility simply because one has reached an advanced age—”

Derek winced. No woman—regardless of excellent posture or unflattering attire—wished to be reminded of things like advanced age.

“And society says you are past your prime marriageable years. Society, Miss Prendergast—” Mrs. Higginbotham pressed her lips firmly together “—is made up of people who are unfailingly imperfect and very often have their heads—”

“Ophelia,” Aunt Guinevere warned.

“Buried in the sand,” Mrs. Higginbotham finished, then frowned at her friend. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“One never knows what you’ll say,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore murmured.

Aunt Guinevere shot both ladies a chastising look, then smiled apologetically. “You must forgive Effie. Her husband was a military man, and his language could sometimes be a bit salty. Effie forgets others are more easily offended than she is.”

Mrs. Higginbotham shrugged, but a gleam of smug amusement twinkled in her eyes.

“So you see, Miss Prendergast,” he began, “without a chaperone you cannot possibly—”

“Oh, we can arrange for a chaperone,” Aunt Guinevere said brightly. “In fact, I have a couple in mind who will do quite nicely.”

“Aunt Guinevere.” Derek aimed a pointed look at her. “There really isn’t time—”

“Nonsense, Derek,” Aunt Guinevere said. “Miss Prendergast is extremely concerned about her cousin and will no doubt go quite mad if you leave her here to wonder what you are up to and whether or not you have located dear, dear Lady Heloise. In addition, she has already vowed to follow you if need be. We really can’t have that. Why, we would certainly be to blame if something were to happen to her.” She cast Miss Prendergast a sympathetic look. “I understand completely why you would wish to go with Derek. Indeed, I think it’s quite courageous of you. If you can bear to put off departing on your quest for one additional day, the day following the day after tomorrow, I am certain the couple I have in mind will be eager to accompany you.”

The look in Miss Prendergast’s eyes softened, and for a moment, one could see how she might possibly, under certain circumstances, be considered almost attractive. “Thank you, Lady Blodgett.” She drew a deep breath. “Three days from now is acceptable.”

“Good.” Aunt Guinevere nodded with satisfaction. “I shall speak with the couple I have in mind tomorrow, and, with any luck at all, you will have your chaperones. You and Derek will want to meet them, of course.”

Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore leaned toward Miss Prendergast in a confidential manner. “It’s always wise to meet one’s traveling companions in advance. One would hate to be trapped on a journey with a companion one finds distasteful.”

Miss Prendergast shot Derek a disgusted glance. “I suspect that would be...awkward.”

“You shall join me for tea at my house to meet the couple the day after tomorrow.” Aunt Guinevere announced with satisfaction. “Now that we have that settled—”

“We have settled nothing.” Derek clenched his teeth. This was quickly getting out of hand. If he didn’t nip this in the bud right now, he’d have half of London following him around Europe. “I am not about to set off on a wild-goose chase—”

Miss Prendergast gasped. “I beg your pardon. This is my cousin. She is not a wild goose.”

“Very well then.” He struggled to keep his voice level. “A missing-goose chase—” Miss Prendergast’s eyes narrowed “—dragging three people, their respective mounds of luggage and servants.” He pinned her with a hard look. “How many lady’s maids do you intend to bring with you, Miss Prendergast?”

Her chin rose. “I am more than capable of seeing to my own needs, Mr. Saunders. I can function perfectly well without a maid.”

“Then you’re the first woman I’ve met who can.”

“Derek,” Aunt Guinevere said sharply. “Your objections are pointless. Miss Prendergast strikes me as the kind of woman who will not be dissuaded simply to make your life less difficult.”

“No doubt,” he said under his breath.

“Then we are agreed.” Aunt Guinevere’s gaze met his, and a subtle but distinct look of victory shone in her eyes. Of course. In one fell swoop she would vanquish the woman who could shatter the unsteady house of cards she and her friends had built as well as the man who had put a damper on her plans.

“That matter perhaps,” he said in a firm tone. “But there are still things we need to discuss before I leave.”

“I was afraid there might be.” Aunt Guinevere sighed, the gleam of victory changing to one of resignation.

Under other circumstances, Derek might feel badly about extinguishing the light in an elderly lady’s eyes, but he had already learned Aunt Guinevere and her cronies were not nearly the sweet, doddering innocents he had initially assumed.