CHAPTER NINE
As much as it may be an affront to the sensibilities of a proper Englishwoman, one must understand the customs of a foreign land are often far different from what one is used to. Embracing local customs will endear one to the native population as well as provide an amusing story to relate upon one’s return home.
—The Lady Travelers Society Guide
WHERE WAS THE blasted man?
India waited in the foyer and resisted the urge to tap her foot with impatience. She’d sent word to Derek through Suzette that she was ready to leave and now wished to do so without further delay. Admittedly, their late start could partially be laid to rest at her feet, given she had not risen as early as was her custom. Even so, it did seem that it took an eternity to get her clothes returned. She felt much more her usual self in her own clothing with her hair in its usual coiffure. Ready to face the world and get on with the search for Heloise. And more than ready to put this morning behind her.
She wasn’t at all sure what had come over her. In hindsight, she had indeed done all she could to get Lord Brookings to leave her room. Short of leaping out of bed and escorting him bodily to the door, she didn’t know what else she could have tried. It was most annoying. But oddly enough, she’d found the man—as well as his stepbrother—rather amusing. And she shouldn’t have. There was nothing amusing about impropriety.
Even though there was no blood between them, she was not at all surprised to learn of Derek and Lord Brookings familial connection. Both men shared a certain air of confidence, both obviously relied on their dashing looks and charming natures, and both were entirely too flirtatious for their own good, or the good of any woman who unwittingly crossed their paths. Derek was a bit less obvious about it than his lordship, although she never would have imagined any man could be surer of himself than Derek. But she had noted the oddest look in Derek’s eyes when he had first entered her room that didn’t speak at all of confidence. It was rather something akin to revelation.
It wasn’t until he’d left and she’d assessed her appearance in the antiquated pier mirror by the window that she suspected what that look might have meant. It was absurd, but, for a moment, India wasn’t entirely sure the image reflected was her. She didn’t look at all like her usual self. Her hair had reverted to its natural state and was a riot of annoying curls, the bane of her existence. Her face was decidedly flushed, no doubt with frustration over her attempts to rid the room of Lord Brookings, which made her eyes look somewhat greener than they were. And thank God neither man had seen more of her in the negligee than her arms. The disgraceful garment clung to her in all sorts of ways it shouldn’t, defining and revealing curves she didn’t realize could look quite so fetching. In a terribly immoral way, of course. All in all, she had no idea who the tousled creature staring back from the mirror was. The image was both shocking and, perhaps, a bit intriguing, but it certainly wasn’t India Prendergast. Or at least not the India Prendergast she’d always seen in the mirror before. Regardless, it was a momentary aberration and nothing more significant than that. The blame could be placed squarely on the negligee, the circumstances, the decadent boudoir and even Paris itself.
And despite how amusing she might on occasion find Derek, she could not let that deter her from the reasons she was with him in the first place. One—and the most important—was to locate Heloise and make certain she was safe. And two—find some way to prove Derek was indeed the mastermind behind the fraudulent Lady Travelers Society—an immoral, illegal enterprise created for the sole purpose of separating women, particularly older women, from their savings. India hadn’t been able to save Heloise from his plot, but she would prevent him from fleecing anyone else. It was the responsible—the right thing to do. And India prided herself on always being right, morally as well as every other way.
“I see you’re ready to go.” Derek descended the stairway, a spring in his step, to join her in the foyer.
“I am.” She nodded. “Have you managed to find my trunk?”
“Not yet, but I have the entire staff looking for it.” He smiled in an encouraging manner. “This is an extremely large house, and your trunk could have been put anywhere. However, I am certain that your luggage will be recovered by the time we return.”
“I do hope so,” she said, the confident note in her voice belying the niggling fear that she might never see her things again. In terms of possessions, she didn’t have a great deal to lose. The trunk itself was somewhat battered—it had once served to transport her things to and from Miss Bicklesham’s—but losing it would be devastating.
She had packed sparsely with an eye toward economy. A few dresses suitable for traveling, a couple of additional blouses, an extra skirt, undergarments of course, nightclothes, a pair of boots and a second pair of sturdy walking shoes. She’d also brought a simple gown appropriate for evening and slippers to match, should that become necessary—which she assumed it wouldn’t. This was not a pleasure trip. Still, one should be properly prepared. According to Heloise, being properly prepared for any eventuality was practically the motto of the Lady Travelers Society. In that piece of advice alone the society was competent. India did wonder if any of the pamphlets Heloise had brought home from the society dealt with the loss of one’s luggage.
“Unless you have some objection, Professor Greer and his wife would like to see some of the city, and I didn’t think it was necessary for them to accompany us. Don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely,” India said with relief. “I suspect they would only hinder our progress.”
“My thoughts exactly. Besides, Mrs. Greer has always wanted to see Paris, and who knows how long we’ll stay? This might be her only chance.”
“Then she should certainly take it.”
“Excellent.” Derek nodded. “Now then, I have reread Lady Heloise’s letters and perused her itinerary. You have her photograph with you, I assume.”
“I do.”
“Very good.” Derek pulled a small notebook and a Baedeker guide from his coat pocket. “I have made a number of notes as to how to proceed.”
“You made notes?”
“I wished to organize my thoughts and our efforts.”
She studied him closely. “You do not strike me as the sort of man who takes well to organization.”
“Then I am delighted that I have surprised you,” he said in a pleasant manner. “In recent months I have seen the benefit of organization when one has something one wishes to accomplish quickly and efficiently.”
“It’s most...admirable.” And shocking. Of all the things she expected from him, organization and efficiency were not among them.
“Furthermore, we need a definite plan of action, unless you intend to simply wander the streets of Paris calling Lady Heloise’s name?”
“No, of course not.” Although she really hadn’t given any consideration as to how to actually find her cousin.
“I didn’t think so. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of devising a plan of sorts.” He glanced at her. “Do you have an idea?”
“No.” She had no more than a vague thought in the back of her mind about making inquiries at places Heloise had mentioned in her letters. “Not yet.”
“Should we wait until you do?”
She did not for a moment believe the innocent note in his voice. “I suggest we follow your plan until such time as it needs revision.”
“Very well then.” He flipped open his notebook. “Unfortunately, her itinerary strikes me as rather vague and a bit haphazard as to arrival dates and departures. Nor does it indicate which hotel she intended to stay in—”
“Rather a serious omission—don’t you think?” she asked pointedly. “One would imagine such pertinent information would be included on an itinerary created by a travelers society and assistance agency.”
“Itineraries change, India, as plans for travel progress,” he said, his attention never leaving his notebook. “In addition, people don’t always go where they’re expected to go. It’s part of the adventure, to head toward an unforeseen destination because it strikes you as interesting. Is the schedule your cousin left with you her final itinerary?”
“I’m not sure.” Blast it all. India had scarcely given Heloise’s itinerary more than a second glance when her cousin had given it to her. Admittedly, that had been when Heloise had first announced her intention to travel. A scant two weeks later the older woman was off, and, while India had glanced at the places Heloise had intended to visit, she’d paid no notice whatsoever to the details of her lodging. “She did mention she would stay in Paris as long as it took to see everything she wished to see.”
“That would have been good to know,” he said under his breath. “In her first letter from Paris, she says her room in ‘this grand hotel’ is more than adequate.”
“Then obviously she was staying at the Grand Hotel. I suggest we make our way there and inquire after her.” India couldn’t quite keep the note of triumph out of her voice. While it was the logical place to start, it was also her suggestion.
“I agree.” He smiled pleasantly. “Which Grand Hotel?”
“What do you mean which Grand Hotel? The Grand Hotel.”
“And herein lies our first problem.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see a problem. It seems very straightforward and sensible to me.”
“Perhaps it would if you were more prepared.”
She stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“Did you bring a guidebook to Paris with you? Do you have a listing of hotels? Did you think to ask your cousin exactly where she planned to stay in Paris or anywhere else?”
“No, but—”
“I suggest you take a look at this.” He handed her the Baedeker.
She took the book and opened it. “And what, pray tell, am I looking for?”
“You’re looking for the Grand Hotel of course.” He paused. “You will also find the Grand Hotel du Louvre, the Grand Hotel de Port Mahon, the Grand Hotel Normandy, the Grand Hotel de Chateaudun, the Grand Hotel—”
“How many Grand Hotels are there?”
“I counted twenty-seven in the guidebook. I have made a list of each and every one.” He paused. “But I might have missed some.”
“Good Lord.” She paged through the guide. “What utter insanity. How very...French!”
“I daresay there are a few Grand Hotels in London, as well,” he observed mildly. It was most annoying.
“A few is a far different matter than dozens! How can such a thing be permitted?”
“I doubt it can be prevented.”
“Even so—”
“You must admit—it’s an excellent name for a hotel. It conjures up an impressive image of hospitality and service.”
“They can’t all be grand,” she muttered, skimming the small, tight print.
“Probably not, but I can’t imagine a hotel attracting much business by calling itself the Almost Grand Hotel or the Less Than Grand Hotel. And would you really wish to stay at lodgings called the Tiny, Trivial and Insignificant Hotel?”
She closed the book and glared at him. “Now you’re being silly. And this is not the time.”
“Indeed I am, and it’s the perfect time.” He put his notebook back in his pocket. “I am trying to impart a certain lightheartedness to what is surely going to be a very long afternoon. And more than likely, just the first.”
“Well, I have no intention of being lighthearted.” She handed him the guide.
“No.” He accepted the book and opened it. “I didn’t think you did.” He found the page he wanted, studied it for a moment, then shut the book smartly and replaced it in his pocket. “I suggest we start at the first Grand Hotel listed, the one that is simply the Grand Hotel, as it is one of the largest hotels in Paris.” He accepted his hat from the butler and stepped toward the door. “There is every possibility we will be lucky and find your cousin firmly established there with not a care in the world, having completely forgotten about details like correspondence.”
“Do you really think so?” The sooner they found Heloise, the sooner India could return to her well-ordered existence.
“I don’t know her as you do, but I do think it’s possible.” A footman opened the door, and Derek waved India through ahead of him. “Not a very likely possibility, but stranger things have happened.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Stranger things certainly had. For one—India had never imagined she’d leave England at all, let alone travel to Paris to stay in a grand manor in the heart of the city with a dashing scoundrel for a host and an even bigger scoundrel by her side.
“Cheer up, India,” Derek said. “Very nearly all the grand hotels are on the Right Bank.”
“Are they near one another then?”
“Not really.” He chuckled. “But at least the haystack hiding our needle is reduced a bit in size.”
Derek hailed a cab and directed the driver to their first stop. Derek’s French was not as precise as hers but was less academic, friendlier perhaps. While she had no problem following the conversation, she decided to allow him to do most of the talking. After all, he had experience visiting other countries whereas she had never stepped foot outside of England.
Perhaps it was some misguided impulse on his part to share those days of his past travel or perhaps he was simply trying to be informative, but he spent the duration of their ride pointing out sights of questionable interest and expounding on the redesigning of the French capital that had begun some twenty or so years ago. From his tone, it was impossible to determine whether he approved of the changes in the city or not. But—in spite of her lack of interest in all things French—India rather liked the newly broadened boulevards and the impressive buildings that blended one into the next, their pale stone facades, matching ironwork and mansard roofs giving the impression of continuation, as if each side of the street was one endless structure. There was a sense of order here that she found both comforting and refreshing.
The first Grand Hotel—the Grand Hotel—was as imposing as its name. It was the same architectural style as the other buildings she’d admired and took up an entire city block. The hotel was highly recommended by Baedeker, the guidebook listing it as one of the most impressive in the city with somewhere between six hundred and seven hundred rooms.
They stepped into the lobby, and it struck India as more a palace than a hotel—not that she’d ever been in either—with a dazzling display of marble and crystal, painted decoration and gilt embellishment. Opulence and grandeur shimmered in the very air around them. This was a setting more befitting a dream than reality. It might well have taken one’s breath away if one was impressed by such an overt exhibit of extravagance and excess. India certainly wasn’t.
“Extraordinary place, isn’t it?” Derek glanced around with a smile. “I read once that it was the largest hotel in the world when it first opened. It might still be.”
“It certainly is grand,” she murmured.
As was the clientele. Judging by the universal air of wealth and importance of the well-dressed guests, they obviously took these ostentatious surroundings as their due. India had never been concerned about fashion. Her serviceable gray wool dress was more than acceptable for her needs. That it was not the latest style had never bothered her. But for the first time in her life—amid the grandeur of the hotel lobby—India felt out of place and more than a little dowdy. As if she should have come in through a servants’ entrance and not the front doors. As much as she tried to dismiss the feeling she couldn’t quite manage. Derek, however, fit right in.
She caught his arm. “I don’t think this is right,” she said in a low voice. “This type of hotel would never suit Heloise.”
“Why not?” He glanced around the lobby. “I think it’s quite impressive.”
“As well as quite expensive.” She shook her head. “The cost of a hotel like this would be well above my cousin’s resources.”
Derek cast her a puzzled look. “Are you sure?”
“Without question,” she said firmly. “This can’t possibly be the right Grand Hotel.”
“Well, we are here now.” Derek nodded toward the registration counter. “The clerk on the end appears to have a good command of English. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll talk to him?”
“Very well.” As there were no other women standing at the counter, it seemed a good idea. Besides, a well-dressed man like Derek would surely get more respect, and therefore more information, than an ordinary woman in serviceable gray wool. “Don’t forget the photograph.” She pulled it out of her bag and handed it to him.
Derek took it, strode off and India tried not to feel like she was somewhere she shouldn’t be, an imposter who didn’t belong. It was nonsense, of course. She raised her chin and adopted an air of mild disdain. As if she was neither aware of how out of place she appeared nor did she care. Although for some unknown reason, she did.
Derek returned quickly. “He didn’t recognize her. Apparently all older Englishwomen look alike.” He handed her the photograph. “And she’s not registered.”
“Well, was she registered six weeks ago?” Goodness, did the man not even know what he should and shouldn’t ask?
He paused. “The clerk said the hotel prides itself on preserving the privacy of its guests, so he couldn’t say.”
“He couldn’t say or wouldn’t say?”
He grimaced. “He said hotel policy forbids it.”
“Did you tell him a woman is missing? Did you tell him her last known location was his hotel? That if she was not found, his hotel might well be held to blame? Or, at the very least, subject to gossip and public scrutiny? I can’t imagine any hotel would wish to be known as the last place a missing Englishwoman was seen.”
Derek’s brow furrowed. “That’s not entirely accurate, India. We don’t know which grand hotel your cousin’s letter referred to.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“India Prendergast!” He gasped in mock horror. “I never expected you of all people to advocate deception.”
“Oh, come now, Derek.” She stared in disbelief. Certainly Derek had admitted right from the start that he had no particular investigative skills, but surely this was little more than common sense. “Have you never read a novel of detection? Of mystery?”
It was his turn to stare. “Have you ever dealt with a French hotel clerk?”
“Did he frighten you?”
“No, he did not frighten me.” The muscles of Derek’s jaw twitched.
“Then go right back there and demand to see the register. Or insist he look at the register.” She thought for a moment. “And give him money.”
“Money?”
“Money.” She nodded. “Money often changes hands when one is seeking information.”
“I had no idea,” he said wryly. “Do you have an amount in mind?”
“No, but surely you’ve done this sort of thing before.”
“Bribed someone to get information he’s not at liberty to disclose? Surprisingly enough, I’ve never needed to.”
“That is surprising, and I wouldn’t call it a bribe. More of a...oh, a gratuity.”
“How much of a gratuity would you recommend?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Ten francs.”
“Ten francs? That’s rather exorbitant, don’t you think? My pockets are not endless.”
“Haven’t you collected dues this month?” she said under her breath.”
His brows drew together in confusion. “What?”
“Nothing.” She waved away his question. She had already decided it was best not to let him know of her suspicions.
“I could get a room here for ten francs.” He paused. “Well, half a room.”
“Then it should do the trick.” She waved him off. “Go on.”
He heaved a resigned sigh.
“And don’t forget to mention Heloise was last seen here. That’s very important in terms of encouraging his cooperation.”
“I shall keep that in mind,” he muttered and returned to the desk clerk. India didn’t actually see money change hands, but the desk clerk left for what was probably only a few minutes but seemed much longer. At last he returned and spoke briefly with Derek. Derek nodded and started toward her, the expression on his face annoyingly noncommittal.
“Did you learn anything?”
“Yes.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the door.
India’s heart jumped. “Tell me.”
“In the last six weeks, this hotel—as well as every other hotel in Paris—has been full to bursting with guests.” He hailed a cab. “A shockingly large percentage of which have been English or American. Our friend at the front desk apparently can’t tell the difference. There is a world exposition here, you know.”
“I don’t care.”
He leveled her a disparaging look and handed her into the cab. “A great many other people do, including, I believe, your cousin.”
India nodded. “That is one of the reasons she planned on staying for a time in Paris.”
“She and everyone else. Although the desk clerk says he did not see her name in the register, it is entirely possible he is mistaken. And just as possible he’s not.”
India’s heart sank. The news was not unexpected. She didn’t think they would be so lucky as to find Heloise the first place they looked. She forced an unconcerned note to her voice. “Then it’s on to the next Grand Hotel.”
“I’ve already given directions to the driver.” He paused. “How long did your cousin plan to stay in Paris?”
“She wasn’t entirely sure. Her plans were—”
“Vague? Indecisive? Undetermined?”
“No,” she said sharply. “Flexible.”
“Flexible?” Skepticism rang in his voice.
“Yes. She had never been to a world exposition before, and she fully intended to see everything there was to see. As well as everything there is to see in Paris. She has always dreamed of traveling, and Paris is one of the places she most wanted to see. She is quite fond of art as well and planned to spend a great deal of time at the Louvre. She also wanted to climb that iron monstrosity that is now towering over the city.”
“Monsieur Eiffel’s tower? You don’t like it?”
“I think it’s hideous.” She shuddered.
He chuckled. “In that you’re not alone. There’s a great deal of debate about the tower. I, for one, like it.”
“Why?”
“First of all, it’s an impressive feat of engineering, a symbol of progress—of how far man has come in the world if you will. Secondly—it’s the tallest structure on earth, also most impressive. And third—I like how something made of iron can look so light and delicate.”
She stared at him. “That’s rather fanciful of you.”
“I can be fanciful on occasion.”
“No doubt.” She sniffed.
“Besides, it looks like climbing it will be a great deal of fun.”
“We’re not here to have fun, Derek.”
“Nor shall we,” he said firmly, but his eyes twinkled. “Don’t you have any desire to see this fascinating city laid out before you? As if you were a bird in flight?”
“Not especially.”
“But you’ve never been to Paris, have you?”
“No.” She shrugged. “I’ve never traveled outside England.”
“Why not?”
Obviously, the man was not going to let this go. “I’ve never had the opportunity, nor have I had the desire. I’m perfectly happy in my own country, and I see no need to trudge about the world in search of adventure. Or for whatever other reasons people abandon hearth and home for. England has everything I want or need.”
“Which explains why you chose not to accompany Lady Heloise,” he said slowly.
“A fact I now regret. If I had, perhaps she would not be...misplaced.” Or at least, India would know where she was.
“Given the flexibility of her schedule combined with her desire to fully explore the exposition and Paris itself... I’d say it’s entirely possible she may yet be in Paris.”
“It’s equally possible Paris was not as intriguing as she’d hoped, and she’s gone on to Italy or Switzerland or parts as yet unknown,” she said with far more irritation than his comment warranted. At least, this comment.
No, it was what he’d said about India choosing not to accompany Heloise. She really hadn’t made a choice. She’d thought nothing of it at the time, but when Heloise had announced she was going to spend upward of half a year traveling Europe, she had not included her younger cousin in her plans. Certainly, such a trip was not something India would have joined in anyway, but Derek was wrong. India had not chosen not to travel with Heloise.
Cousin Heloise, who’d never done anything even remotely daring or adventurous in her entire life, had never asked her.