The Lady Travelers Guide To Scoundrels And Other Gentlemen

Mr. Saunders was late by a quarter of an hour thus far. It was not an auspicious beginning. Not that she’d expected promptness from him. Why, one could tell from just looking at the man he was not the sort to pay attention to the rules that governed the lives of everyone else in the world. One would think when one’s great-aunt invited one to her home promptly at four o’clock, one would arrive promptly at four o’clock. Aside from meeting the chaperones Lady Blodgett had promised, they had a great deal to discuss. Plans needed to be made.

“I would imagine he’s making arrangements.” Mrs. Greer piled a few more biscuits on her already-heaping plate. India wasn’t sure if the woman couldn’t make up her mind which of the delightful offerings to take or if she feared this was her last chance to ever have a biscuit again.

“As well he should,” Professor Greer said under his breath, reaching for another biscuit, although he had already emptied and refilled his plate at least once.

Lady Blodgett had presented the retired professor and his wife to India with something of a satisfied flourish. The couple was old enough to be suitable as chaperones but not so old as to impede speedy progress. As much as India would have preferred not to have them at all, they were necessary to abide by the dictates of proper behavior.

The Greers were not particularly objectionable and did seem pleasant enough. The professor looked exactly as one would expect a former professor to look—a bit portly, with graying hair, full beard and kind brown eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles. Clad in expected tweed, he had the slightest air of pomposity that declared his superior intelligence. Whereas the professor exuded solid, English stock, his wife struck India as a more exotic creature. Or perhaps a wren disguised as something more akin to a tropical bird. She was obviously enamored of bright colors. Her hair was a fading shade of red, her round figure clothed in a startling chartreuse gown bedecked with ruffles and ribbons, and her hat, well, there was much to observe in her hat, including an array of peach-tinted flowers and, of course, feathers. But her blue eyes were bright and inquisitive and friendly.

The couple was more than pleasant. They were very nearly overwhelming in their eagerness over what Lady Blodgett kept referring to as their quest. India wasn’t at all sure she liked the term quest—it brought to mind grand adventures and legendary pursuits. She preferred to think of this as a serious search, even a mission of rescue. Although she did hope rescue would not be necessary. She hoped—she prayed—nothing had happened to Heloise and she was simply unable to write for whatever reason. A reason that might well turn out to be completely insignificant. Heloise did tend to be a bit scatterbrained and easily distracted. Still, as much as India tried to convince herself of that, the horrible weight of doubt still lodged in the pit of her stomach.

India glanced at the clock on the mantel in Lady Blodgett’s parlor and resisted the urge to shudder. The clock was a dark bronze and perhaps the most ornate thing she’d ever seen. Mythical figures cavorted about its base, and fictitious beasts writhed around the sides, climbing toward a goddess figure at the top. One could barely see the clock face for the embellishments. Matching urns supporting candelabra flanked the timepiece, the epitome of the current overindulgent style. But then everything in Lady Blodgett’s cluttered parlor—from the small Egyptian mummy case—apparently for a cat—in one corner to the Grecian statue centered between the front windows to the ancient Roman swords hanging on the far wall—was at once unique and far-fetched. And better suited to a museum than a home. There wasn’t so much as an inch of the ornately carved tabletops in the parlor not covered with a Dresden figurine, a knickknack of some sort or a souvenir from Sir Charles’s travels. Aside from the lack of poorly executed art on the walls, Heloise would have felt completely at home in this room. She would have described it as whimsical.

It was not the word India would have used. Even though India shared Heloise’s London house, her private rooms were on the second floor, and she’d decorated them with an eye toward simplicity and function. Aside from her collection of novels of mystery and detection, little in India’s quarters would have revealed much of herself to a casual observer. Whereas Heloise’s friendly nature and delightful demeanor was evident in every nook and cranny of the rest of the house. The older woman had never met a knickknack or objet d’art she didn’t love.

India would not have termed Lady Blodgett’s filled to overflowing room as shabby, either, but it had obviously seen better days. Heloise would have felt at home with that, as well.

“Perhaps, while we wait for Derek, you would like to explain to Professor and Mrs. Greer exactly how you plan to find Lady Heloise.” Lady Blodgett stared at her expectantly.

“You must have a plan, you know,” the professor said firmly. “Can’t go running about the world willy-nilly. Even the most intrepid adventurers have some sort of plan.” While a longtime member of the Explorers Club, the professor had apparently rarely set foot out of England, which only heightened his enthusiasm for the quest.

“Our plans are not definitive as of yet. There are still some decisions to be made.” India adopted a confidence she did not feel. “At our last meeting, Mr. Saunders suggested following my cousin’s footsteps insofar as we know them. I do have the letters she wrote to me from various places and of course there is her itinerary. I assume the society has a copy of that?”

“I would think so.” Lady Blodgett gestured absently.

“Fortunately, I made a copy before Lady Heloise left England, which I will share with Mr. Saunders.” India tried and failed to keep the annoyance from her voice. “Should he ever arrive.”

“Come now, Miss Prendergast,” Professor Greer said in a chastising manner. “I have no doubt Mr. Saunders is engaged in preparations for our journey, as any good leader of an expedition would be.”

Indignation surged through India. Good leader, indeed! “On the contrary, Professor, I would imagine Mr.—”

“Parkhurst!” Lady Blodgett interrupted, calling to her butler. “We seem to be running low on biscuits. I’m sure Mrs. Greer would care for some more. Wouldn’t you, Estelle?”

Mrs. Greer glanced from the almost-empty serving platter to her still-full plate, then nodded. “Perhaps another one or two. They are delicious.”

“Aren’t they, though?” Lady Blodgett beamed. “My cook is really quite wonderful with biscuits, although you should try...”

Lady Blodgett continued rambling about scones and other baked goods in an obvious effort to avoid any discussion of her great-nephew’s leadership abilities or anything else about him. India could certainly understand that. It had proven surprisingly easy for Martin’s investigator to uncover a great deal of information about Mr. Saunders. Much of the man’s life was an open book. A scandal-ridden digest of impropriety and excess. The kind of book that should be banned from respectable society.

Derek Saunders was indeed the heir of the Earl of Danby and, like so many young men of privilege, had spent most of his days enjoying the pleasures English life provided the offspring of society. A few years older than India, his reputation for spending, indulgence in gaming, women and drink were the stuff gossips dreamed of. His name had been linked to numerous indiscretions, and while admittedly they were not the kind that ruined lives or toppled empires, they were still notable. The latest rumor was that his uncle was no longer tolerating his irresponsible behavior and had cut him off. One did wonder if he had come up with the idea of siphoning money from susceptible older ladies in the form of dues and charges for travel services after the earl’s edict or before.

“Now then, Miss Prendergast,” Professor Greer began when Lady Blodgett had at last paused for breath. “You were saying that Mr. Saunders’s plans for our endeavor were still undetermined.”

“No, Professor,” India said firmly. “I was saying our plans were—”

“Coming along nicely, I would say.” Mr. Saunders strode into the room and straight to his great-aunt’s side. “My apologies, Aunt Guinevere. Sorry I’m late.” He bent and kissed her cheek, the faultless image of a perfect, doting nephew. One did hope he was fooling the Greers as he certainly wasn’t fooling India. “It took longer than I expected to finalize a few details for our venture. I must say I’m pleased at how well all is working out.” He nodded at India and settled into the chair beside Lady Blodgett. “Miss Prendergast, you’re looking lovely today.”

Such charming nonsense was not going to work on her. “Thank you, Mr. Saunders. You’re looking well. One was beginning to wonder if perhaps you had been hit by a bus.”

He chuckled. “Or perhaps one was hoping.”

She cast him an overly sweet smile. “Perhaps.”

“Derek, you must meet some dear friends of mine who have agreed—at considerable personal sacrifice mind you—to act as chaperones for you and Miss Prendergast,” Lady Blodgett began. “Estelle, allow me to introduce my nephew, Mr. Saunders. Derek, this is Mrs. Greer. Estelle and I have been friends for—oh, how long is it now?” She frowned at Mrs. Greer. “Can it possibly be nearly forty years?”

“Oh dear.” Mrs. Greer winced. “That does seem like an awfully long time, but I’m afraid you’re right.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Greer.” Mr. Saunders stood, took her hand and raised it to his lips. His gaze never left the chaperone’s in a manner too polished and obviously well rehearsed. Derek Saunders had no doubt kissed a fair number of hands. It was all India could do to keep from snorting in disdain. “But surely my great-aunt is mistaken, Mrs. Greer.”

“In what way, Mr. Saunders?” The woman stared up at the younger man, admiration shining in her eyes.

“I cannot believe you have known each other for forty years, unless perhaps she first made your acquaintance when you were barely out of the nursery.”

“Goodness, Mr. Saunders.” A blush colored Mrs. Greer’s cheeks. “You are a charming devil. Why, you will quite turn my head with such nonsense.”

“I do hope so, Mrs. Greer.” Mr. Saunders flashed her a smile that would have made even the most unyielding woman swoon. “And, as we are to be traveling companions, you must call me Derek.”

“Very well, Derek.” Mrs. Greer dimpled. “But only if you call me Estelle.”

India wanted to choke.

A smug gleam showed in Lady Blodgett’s eyes. “And this is Estelle’s husband, Professor Greer.”

“Professor.” Mr. Saunders nodded and shook the other man’s hand firmly.

“Professor Greer is an expert in medieval architecture,” Lady Blodgett said. “Your uncle Charles held him in the utmost regard.”

“From what I recall of my great-uncle, Professor, that is indeed the highest of compliments. And no doubt well deserved.”

“I was a great admirer of his, as well,” the professor said gruffly. “Always wanted to join one of his expeditions, but the time was never quite right.”

“But now you are accompanying me, and I am most grateful to have a man of your expertise and obvious wisdom.”

“You just met the man,” India said without thinking. “How can you possibly say that?”

“Uncle Charles was an excellent judge of character,” Mr. Saunders said smoothly. “Any man who had his respect has mine, as well. I must say, Miss Prendergast, I am somewhat shocked that you would not understand that.” A chastising note sounded in his voice.

Four pairs of accusatory eyes turned toward India. Not the least bit fair. She was not the practiced charlatan here. Obviously why he had won them over and she had not. Still, this was not a good way to begin a journey of indeterminate length. For someone who preferred to act with reason rather than succumbing to emotion, she was apparently letting her feelings about Mr. Saunders color her judgment. And if one wished to best an opponent, one might wish to employ his tactics. She was not used to chicanery, but two could play at his game. How difficult could it be?

“Please forgive me, all of you. I spoke without thinking.” She heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “I am trying very hard to keep my emotions in check but not knowing where Cousin Heloise is...” She sniffed back a nonexistent tear, surprised to note it was not quite as feigned as she had expected.

“You poor dear.” Mrs. Greer cast her a sympathetic glance.

“Apology accepted, Miss Prendergast.” Mr. Saunders nodded and turned to the others. “We leave for Paris tomorrow. If we take the morning train to Dover, we can be in Paris by nightfall.”

“Paris?” India stared.

“Paris.” Mrs. Greer fairly sighed the word. “Did you hear that, Frederick? We’re going to Paris.” She leaned toward Lady Blodgett in a confidential manner. “I have always dreamed of going to Paris.”

“As have I,” Lady Blodgett said with a weak smile. “Charles always intended to take me, but somehow, the opportune time never arose. My friend Persephone speaks quite fondly of it. Of course, it’s been years since she’s been there.”

“I spent some time there as a student,” the professor added. “I doubt it’s changed much. Paris never does.”

“Paris?” India glared at Mr. Saunders. This was not what they had discussed.

“We, too, have some final arrangements to make.” Professor Greer stood and offered his hand to his wife. “Come along, Estelle.”

“Oh my, yes.” Mrs. Greer took his hand and rose to her feet. Mr. Saunders stood at once. The man was at least cognizant of polite behavior. “This has all happened so quickly. There is a great deal to do before we can leave. Why, we have to pack our bags and confer with the servants and arrange for—”

“Then we won’t keep you a moment longer.” Lady Blodgett stood, as well. “Allow me to see you out.” She glanced at her nephew. “I suspect you and Miss Prendergast have much to discuss before your departure.”

Mr. Saunders glanced at India. “I would think so.”

The older lady’s gaze shifted from her nephew to India and back. “I will leave you to it then.” She took Mrs. Greer’s arm and herded the couple toward the hall. “I can’t tell you how envious I am. Perhaps, one day, I, too...”

Mr. Saunders closed the doors behind them.

India stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “Paris?”

“I believe that’s the third time you’ve said that.”

“It bears repeating. If I recall correctly, you originally suggested following in Heloise’s footsteps. And I agreed.” She drew her brows together. “Her footsteps did not begin in Paris.”

“No, they did not,” he said mildly, crossing the room to a cabinet and opening the doors. “Would you care for a brandy or whisky? Or perhaps sherry would be more to your liking.”

“I have tea.” She waved impatiently at her cup.

“Ah yes, well, so you do.”

“I have never been one for overindulgence in spirits.”

“Imagine my surprise.”

“Besides, it’s entirely too early in the day for spirits.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” He poured himself a glass of something amber and probably horribly inebriating.

She ignored the question. “I do hope indulging in alcohol at all hours is not something you plan to make a habit of during our travels.”

“As long as my habits do not interfere in our purposes, I would say they are none of your concern.”

She paused to summon a measure of calm. She couldn’t find Heloise without this beastly creature, and, as much as she disapproved of nearly everything about him, it made no sense not to attempt to get along with him. Still...

“Mr. Saunders.” She drew a calming breath. “I do not appreciate you changing our plans without informing me.”

He glanced at her, took a deep swallow of his drink, then refilled his glass. As if dealing with her required strong spirits.

“First of all, Miss Prendergast, they are not our plans.” He returned to his chair, gestured for her to sit, then resumed his seat. “They are my plans. You insisted upon coming. It’s only because my aunt agreed that you should that I am allowing you to do so.”

She gasped. “Allowing me?”

“Yes,” he said in a hard tone. “Allowing you.”

“Whether you allow me to accompany you or not, I was not about to allow you to look for my cousin without supervision.”

“Supervision?” His brow rose as if she had just made the most amusing comment.

“I daresay someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

“You don’t trust me, do you, Miss Prendergast?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” He leaned forward in what appeared to be genuine curiosity. “You don’t even know me.”

“Your reputation does not foster trust, Mr. Saunders.”

“I see.” He studied her curiously. “I would have thought you were the type of woman who judged people on their own merits rather than what gossips have had to say about them.”

Heat washed up her face. “I am indeed, but I am not a fool. When one person says a piece of fruit is a plum, there’s a possibility it may not be a plum. However, when dozens of people identify it as a plum, the chances are very good that it is indeed a plum.”

“I see.” He continued his perusal of her as if she were an insect in a glass case. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’ve never had any reason to doubt myself or my judgment.”

“Oh, this will be an enjoyable trip,” he said under his breath.

“I am not here to enjoy myself,” she said staunchly.

“Understandable, of course.”

“I am very concerned about my cousin.” The oddest lump formed in her throat, and she cleared it. “Indeed, she is my only concern.”

“Do not mistake my words, Miss Prendergast,” he said in a serious manner. “I, too, am concerned that we find Lady Heloise safe and well. However, it has been my observation that even the most serious of ventures progresses more easily when one attempts to appreciate new experiences.”

“I have no intention of appreciating anything.”

“No, I didn’t think you would.”

She ignored him. “I do wish you would answer my question. Why are we starting in Paris?”

“Because the last letter you received from her came from Paris.”

“How did you know that?”

“Good God, Miss Prendergast, you needn’t look at me as if I were some sort of nefarious villain intent on doing you and your cousin harm.”

Admittedly, she had little more than gossip and her suspicions as to his character. Not that he probably didn’t deserve it.

“Until you prove otherwise, Mr. Saunders...” She shrugged.

He stared at her for a moment, then laughed.

“This is not amusing.”

“On the contrary, it—you—” he raised his glass to her “—are most amusing.”

“Imagine my delight in your assessment of me,” she snapped. “Now, once again—how did you know her last letter was from Paris?”

“When we first met, you said her last letter was from France and you specifically said it was from Paris in each and every letter you sent to the Travelers Society.”

She stared at him. “You actually read them?”

“Of course I did.” He sipped his drink. “If you recall, I had already begun an effort to locate her before you so politely introduced yourself.”

“I will grant you that,” she said reluctantly. Perhaps on this one point she was not being fair.

“Thank you.” He thought for a moment. “It simply seemed to me it was logical to begin our search in the last place we know Lady Heloise to have visited, rather than going back to where she was previously. Don’t you agree?”

“That does make sense.” She nodded slowly.

“Then I’m right?”

She clenched her teeth. “Yes, I suppose you are.”

“Excellent.” He grinned.

“Don’t be smug, Mr. Saunders. It’s most unbecoming.”

“Nonetheless, I find it hard to resist. I can’t imagine you admitting that I may be right about something to be more than an infrequent occurrence. I intend to savor it when it happens.”

“As well you should, as I, too, am fairly certain it will be extremely rare.”

He grinned another most disarming grin. It was all she could do to ignore it.

“Did you bring your cousin’s letters?” he said, abruptly changing the subject.

She nodded.

“May I read them?”

She started to refuse, then realized it was not an unreasonable request. And while he might not have her trust, a little cooperation between them might be beneficial. “May I ask why?”

“There may be something in them that could prove of value. Something you might have overlooked.”

“That’s possible I suppose.” She grabbed her bag and rummaged through it.

“And I am right once again,” he murmured. She pretended not to hear him. “If these are of a personal nature—”

“No, not at all.” She pulled out a packet of letters and handed it to him. “Heloise wrote of the sights, where she was staying and assorted travel details. Nothing especially personal at all.”

He shuffled through the letters. “Is that unusual? For them to be so impersonal, that is?”

“I didn’t say they were impersonal, although I suppose they might be construed as such. As for whether or not that’s unusual, I can’t really say.” She thought for a moment. “Heloise and I haven’t corresponded since my school years. If I recall correctly, those letters were about the details of her day-to-day life. Her letters now are about travel and the sights she’s seeing. This is very new to her, and she was extremely excited about her travels. It simply stands to reason that detailing what she sees would be what she’d write about.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “May I return these to you in the morning?”

“Certainly, and I should take my leave, as well.” She rose to her feet, Mr. Saunders standing at once. She could not fault the man’s grasp of manners. “I, too, have a great many details to attend to before our departure.” She nodded and started toward the door.

India was the first to admit her greatest flaw was impatience. Now that arrangements were made, she was almost as eager as the Greers to begin their travels. Eager and possibly even a bit excited. The thought pulled her up short. There was nothing to be excited about. This was Heloise’s adventure, not hers.

“One more thing, Miss Prendergast, before you go.”

She turned back to him. “Yes?”

“As we are to be traveling companions, and will be spending a considerable amount of time in each other’s company, I would appreciate it if you would give the slightest bit of consideration to the possibility that I am not as wicked as you apparently think.” He smiled in a most engaging way. She ignored it.

“That remains to be seen, Mr. Saunders. Although I should warn you—” she flicked her gaze over him in a dismissive manner “—I have never been fond of plums.”

CHAPTER SIX

“AND HOW LONG do you expect this endeavor to take?” Uncle Edward studied Derek from behind the massive desk in the library in his London house. Now in his sixty-first year, the Earl of Danby was still a fine figure of a man with graying hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to notice all sorts of things one wished they wouldn’t. Derek had been the recipient of that look before. He resisted the urge to squirm in his chair like a guilty schoolboy.

“Quite honestly, sir—” Derek braced himself “—I have no idea.”

Derek would have liked nothing better than to have avoided this conversation altogether, but in the months since Uncle Edward’s mandate that he reform his carefree ways, he’d been working with the earl’s estate, property and business managers. No one had been more surprised than Derek to discover he not only had a knack for numbers and business; he enjoyed it. Abandoning his new duties for as long as it took to find Lady Heloise would not sit well with his uncle. At least not without an explanation.

“I see.” Uncle Edward considered him in a noncommittal manner.

“Frankly, sir—” Derek leaned forward and met his uncle’s gaze firmly “—I don’t see that I have a choice. While I did look into hiring private investigators to locate Lady Heloise, such efforts will take funding beyond my resources and a great deal of time.”