CHAPTER THIRTEEN
One should prepare oneself for travel by investigating in advance the places one intends to visit through lectures and books and the experiences of friends. It is always wise to know which places in a foreign locale are welcoming to visitors and which are hostile. Which are suitable and respectable for lady travelers, and which to avoid at all costs. Not availing oneself of such information in advance can be at best awkward, at worst scandalous, even dangerous.
—The Lady Travelers Society Guide
A SHARP RAPPING like the sound of a small, determined bird sounded at her door.
“Come—”
“India, I need your assistance.” Estelle burst into the room. “Or possibly your advice. Although I’m not certain I will listen to it. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but this is most concerning. There are consequences and repercussions, and, well, you understand.”
“Not in the least, but please, come in.” India waved her into the room. She’d been reading Mr. Bazalgette’s Agent and was nearly ready to put the book down and prepare for bed. It had been an exceptionally trying day.
Still, there was nothing better than lending assistance and giving advice. Why, those were two of the things she did best and among the reasons Martin valued her so highly. Resolving Estelle’s difficulty—whatever it might be—was just the sort of thing India needed to feel more like herself. Besides, Estelle had helped India when she needed it. India could do no less for her. “How may I help?”
“I’m not sure, but you are so terribly competent and rational and sensible.” Estelle pressed her lips together in a determined manner. “Competent, rational and sensible are exactly what is needed at the moment.”
“You have always struck me as extremely rational and sensible,” India said although Estelle seemed neither rational nor sensible at the moment.
“That seems to be eluding me tonight.” The older woman blew an annoyed breath. “It’s about Frederick.”
“Has something happened to him?” Concern squeezed India’s heart. “He seemed fine at dinner. Is he ill?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I almost wish it were.”
“Then what on earth is the matter?”
“Frederick and Lord Brookings have gone to...well, I don’t know how to put this delicately.”
“Nor is it necessary,” India said firmly. “When one is as distraught as you are, the time for delicacy has passed.”
“You’re right of course.” Estelle adopted a resolute expression. “They’ve gone to an...establishment. In Montmartre.”
India stared. “I have no idea what that means.”
“You really need to do at least a modicum of inquiry before you travel again, dear,” Estelle said in a chastising manner. “Montmartre is a district of Paris known for its less-than-respectable entertainment. Cabarets and dance halls and the like. Some of which feature women clad in most suggestive costumes or even none at all. The area is frequented by artists and writers and students and is considered quite Bohemian.”
“I see.”
“Frederick is unfailingly cognizant of proper behavior, but we are in Paris, after all.” Estelle turned on her heel and paced the room. “I assure you this is not at all like him. He does not usually frequent that sort of place.”
“What sort of place?” India asked, although she was beginning to have her suspicions.
“I suppose it’s to be expected. What man wouldn’t seize the opportunity to relive a few moments of his lost youth? I certainly wouldn’t mind reliving a few moments of my younger days. That’s how it all began, you know. All that talk at dinner with Frederick going on and on about his time here when he was a student.”
“Yes, of course.” In truth, India had paid no attention whatsoever.
“It’s not as if I don’t trust him,” Estelle continued. “I do. Implicitly. After all, if we don’t have trust between us after all these years, what do we have? Trust between a man and woman is everything, and we have trusted one another from the beginning. I’m not sure love is possible without trust.”
“Probably not.” India had no idea what to say. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what the problem is. If you are not concerned about this outing with Lord Brookings—”
“I’m concerned about who might see him and his lordship.” She paused. “Although I daresay, Lord Brookings won’t be. He does seem to be that sort of man, doesn’t he?”
“If you mean the sort of man who doesn’t care about appearances, who is self-centered, irresponsible and entirely too arrogant? Then yes, that is an accurate description of his lordship.”
“You don’t like him, do you?”
“Oddly enough, I think I do like him.” India shook her head. “It’s hard not to like him.”
“As do I—where was I?”
“Your concern about someone seeing the professor at this establishment.”
“Yes, well, it seems every time we turn around here, we are running into someone we know. Frederick has quite a respected reputation in certain circles, academic for the most part, and of course he’s a member of the Explorers Club and various other organizations.” She shook her head. “I had no idea Paris would be so crowded with subjects of Her Majesty although I suppose it is a world exhibition, isn’t it?”
“Go on.”
“Just this morning, we crossed paths at the Louvre with several ladies I know from London, and I joined them for refreshments while Frederick examined a display of medieval manuscripts. The ladies were bemoaning the fact that their husbands were determined to visit Montmartre. The group included Mrs. Marlow, the wife of George Marlow.” Her eyes narrowed. “If Frederick has any sort of rival, George Marlow would be it. He’s always been envious of Frederick’s accomplishments.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“If Marlow—if anyone from London—sees Frederick there...” She shuddered. “They will deny it, but men gossip far more than they would have us believe. Mark my words, in less than a day after they return home, everyone will know Frederick was spotted at highly unsuitable places. That beastly Marlow will make certain of it. You know how these things are—the gossip will grow out of all proportions. It will ruin him.”
“But won’t these gentlemen be tarnished with the same brush?”
“Frederick is held to a higher standard. This is a very delicate time. I’m not supposed to say anything—” she glanced from side to side as if to make sure they were alone and lowered her voice “—but there is talk that the queen is considering a knighthood for him. And you know how Her Majesty is about things like this.”
“So I have heard.” India could well imagine the queen would not be at all inclined to knight a man who was seen in questionable surroundings, even far from home. Her Majesty was known to be intolerant of the merest hint of impropriety.
“I had no idea he was going tonight. Why, he and Lord Brookings and Derek retired to the billiards room after dinner. I went to our rooms to read and dozed off. When I woke, Frederick had still not returned. That’s when I discovered he and his lordship had decided on a foray to Montmartre.”
“It seems to me,” India said, “you are anticipating a problem that does not yet exist. It’s rather far-fetched to think that in a city the size of Paris two acquaintances from London will encounter one another.”
“Men, my dear India, are men.” Estelle cast her a condescending look. “They are all prone to adventures of a disconcerting nature. I would not be the least bit surprised if Marlow wasn’t in Montmartre at this very moment.”
“Still—”
“I will not allow Frederick’s chances at a knighthood to be shattered because of one ill-advised venture.” Estelle folded her arms over her chest. “Therefore, I intend to fetch him myself and bring him back.”
India stared. “Surely you’re not serious.”
“I have never been more serious.” A determined look shone in Estelle’s eyes. “I have supported that man through nearly forty years of marriage, and I will not fail him now. A knighthood would be his crowning achievement, and he deserves it. And I deserve to be Lady Greer.”
India shook her head. “This does not strike me as a good idea.”
“I didn’t say it was a good idea, but it is the only one I have.” She squared her shoulders. “And I would very much appreciate it if you would accompany me.”
“Because two Englishwomen on such an excursion would be less improper than just one?”
“Because your French is much better than mine.” Estelle grimaced. “And I prefer not to go by myself. If you have a better idea...”
“I wish I did.” India thought for a moment. Estelle’s plan was unwise and ill conceived. Her reasoning was based on nothing more than emotion and distress. India had not known the older woman long but she had no doubt she would indeed try to find her wandering husband alone if India refused to accompany her. “Although I believe I know who might.” She started toward the hall. “Come along.”
“Where?” Estelle hurried behind her.
“If there’s anyone among us who would know best how to evade scandal, it would be he who has experienced it firsthand.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Unless Derek accompanied your husband and his lordship—”
“He didn’t. At least according to the butler, but I believe Derek has already retired for the night.”
“Well then, we shall have to beard the lion in his den.” India headed toward Derek’s rooms.
“Are you sure?” Doubt sounded in Estelle’s voice. “I’ve never visited a man in his bedroom before. I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”
India glanced at her. “Now you are considering what is and is not appropriate?”
Estelle shrugged.
“Regardless...” India stopped before Derek’s door. Estelle had come to India for help, and help she would have. India gathered her courage and knocked sharply on his door. “A knighthood is at stake.”
A moment later the door opened. Derek, clad in a deep red dressing gown, stared at her. “What?” His gaze skipped to Estelle, then back to India. “Ladies,” he said cautiously. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“We have need of your assistance,” India said firmly, ignoring how rakishly charming he looked.
“Do you?” He stepped back and waved them into his room. “Come in then, by all means.”
India stepped into his room, Estelle right on her heels. India had never been in a gentleman’s bedroom before and never imagined she would be. Especially not with said gentleman dressed in attire unsuitable to receive female callers.
“Oh, this is nice.” Estelle glanced around the room approvingly.
It was indeed nice. Twice as big as India’s, it was a suite of rooms really. A sitting area complete with a sofa and desk adjoined a bedchamber via an open archway. Whereas the furniture in her room was in shades of pastels and white and decidedly feminine in nature, his had a distinctly masculine flair with carved, dark woods. Her gaze was irresistibly drawn to the adjoining room, where an enormous armoire and an equally enormous mahogany bed dominated the space. Heat washed up her face, and she jerked her gaze back to Derek. Which was no better at all.
His dressing gown was the color of a rich claret, deep and decidedly sinful and worn over trousers. A fringed sash cinched his waist and a white shirt was open at his throat. The man was the epitome of, well, seduction. Only the fact that his hair was slightly ruffled, as if he’d run his hands through it, giving him an appealing boyish quality, saved him from looking positively dangerous. She glanced at Estelle, who stared at Derek in open admiration.
His gaze shifted between the women. “I assume you’re here for a reason.”
“Yes, of course.” India cleared her throat. “The professor needs your help.”
“Oh?”
“His lordship has taken the professor to a questionable establishment in Montmartre.”
Estelle continued to stare. India groaned to herself. You would think the woman had never seen a dashing scoundrel in a dressing gown before. She probably hadn’t, but she was married, after all. Admittedly, while the professor and Derek were both men, that’s where the similarity ended. India nudged the other woman.
“Oh.” Estelle started. “Yes, of course.” She drew a deep breath. “I believe they intended to make an evening of it.”
“I know,” Derek said. “They discussed stopping in at the Folies Bergère when we were having port and cigars in the billiards room.”
“I’m rather impressed that you thought better than to accompany them to such a place,” India said.
“I didn’t think better of it.” He shrugged. “I simply had no desire to go.”
“Regardless, that’s to our benefit.” She nodded at Estelle.
Again, he looked from one woman to the other. “I’m not sure what you want from me.”
“We want you to find the professor before acquaintances of his from London spot him in surroundings that can only be described as immoral, which would surely lead to his disgrace and ultimate ruin,” India said.
“Disgrace and ultimate ruin?” He chuckled. “Aren’t you being a bit dramatic? It’s not uncommon for tourists to visit the sights of Montmartre.”
India traded glances with Estelle.
“It really is a matter of disgrace and ultimate ruin.” Estelle chewed on her lower lip. “I’m not at liberty to tell you why, but please believe me this is crucial for Frederick’s future.”
He studied her for a long moment. “Very well,” he said at last. “It will take me a few minutes to change. Then I will be on my way.”
“Excellent.” Estelle nodded. “I shall meet you in the foyer.”
India braced herself. “We shall meet you in the foyer.”
Estelle smiled at her gratefully.
“I have no intention of bringing the two of you along with me.” Derek stared in disbelief. “This is not the sort of area for well-bred English ladies. It’s frequented by men and...working women for the most part.”
“The fate of my husband is at stake.” Estelle raised her chin in a determined manner. “I will not be left behind.”
“And Estelle is my...my friend.” India doubted she’d ever said that before about anyone other than Heloise or Martin. “She came to me for help, and I will not abandon her now.” India crossed her arms over her chest. “Are we going or not?”
“Very well.” His jaw tightened. “But you’ll limit your observations to what you can see on the street. And you will both stay in the carriage.”
“We can agree to that.” India glanced at Estelle, who nodded. “Five minutes then,” India said and ushered Estelle out the door.
Before she could follow, Derek stepped close and lowered his voice. “I can do this myself, you know.”
“No doubt.” India shrugged. “But Estelle is determined, and I cannot allow her to go without me.”
“Because you don’t trust me.” His eyes narrowed. “I assure you I am more than capable of finding the professor and returning him safely to his wife.”
“I am well aware of that, and in this particular case, I do trust you.” Even as she said the words, she knew they were true. “But Estelle asked for my help. Therefore, I consider this quest my responsibility, and I intend to see it through to the end.”
“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard but I know better than to try to argue with you.” He heaved a frustrated sigh and stepped back. “Now, unless you intend to assist me in changing my clothing—”
“That I’m certain you can manage without me.” She nodded and took her leave.
A quarter of an hour later they were in one of his lordship’s closed carriages headed for Montmartre. It did seem to take forever or perhaps it was simply that the silence in the carriage was deafening. Derek was not at all happy with them and apparently thought it better not to say anything at all than to continue to express his annoyance. Fine. India would rather listen to her own thoughts than listen to him. Especially as he was probably right.
She should have convinced Estelle to let Derek come alone. This was not the sort of thing India did. Ever. She was at all times cognizant of the need for propriety. She was not prone to, nor had she ever had, any secret desire for adventure. Nonetheless, she had the oddest sense of anticipation. It was ridiculous and yet there it was.
At last they pulled up on the opposite side of the street from a large, decorative building plastered with playbills on the ground floor. On the upper story, multiple window panes were divided by ornate columns. The edifice was topped by wrought stonework running the width of the building, with a curved and graceful design and a sort of crown in the center. Immediately beneath the crown were the words Folies Bergère. The place fairly reeked of immorality and indiscretion and decadence. Although immorality, indiscretion and decadence apparently had a great deal of appeal. Even at this late hour, the streets were crowded with vehicles and pedestrians.
“This is where they said they were going.” Derek nodded at the building. “It’s a sort of cabaret or music hall.”
“It’s very busy, isn’t it?” Estelle murmured.
“It’s extremely popular.” He glanced at India. “What do you think?”
“Sin is usually popular,” she said with a casual shrug. “We will indeed remain in the carriage. I believe you were right.”
He raised a brow. “Again?”
“Again. And you needn’t be smug about it.”
He chuckled. “Oh, but I enjoy being smug.” He grabbed the door handle. “I would wager the doorman knows Val by sight. It won’t take me long to see if he’s here or not.” He opened the door and smiled wickedly at India. “You should probably give me a token for luck.”
Estelle nodded. “Like a knight of old going off to do battle.”
“Don’t be absurd. He’s venturing into a veritable den of iniquity not a duel to the death. And I daresay it’s not the first time.”
“Still, a token for luck. A glove perhaps or—” his smile widened “—a kiss.”
India arched a brow in disdain, but the oddest thing happened to the pit of her stomach.
Estelle clucked her tongue. “Goodness, Derek, you are naughty.”
He grinned in an unrepentant manner. “I know.” He nodded at India. “She likes it.”
India gasped. “I most certainly do not!”
He laughed, stepped out of the carriage and turned back to India. “Are you certain about that kiss?”
“Quite certain,” she said firmly, ignoring a vague sense of regret. Still, a kiss? She would never so much as consider such a thing. “Besides, a kiss here in this part of Paris, at this time of night, well, I can only imagine what an observer might think. People would jump to all sorts of conclusions, and Estelle and I wouldn’t be the least bit safe. Even in the carriage.”
“Now you’re probably right.”
“I know.” It was her turn to sound smug.
“I shouldn’t be long.” He nodded and headed toward the music hall.
Estelle switched to the opposite side of the carriage, and both women tried not to stare at the passing scene. They couldn’t help themselves. It was impossible to ignore. Here were the pleasure seekers of Paris. Well-dressed gentlemen reeking of wealth and elegance mingled with working men, rougher in appearance in clothes that had seen better days. The women, too, were mostly of a working class although, judging from the appearance of a great many, not all their work was respectable.
Estelle nodded toward a particularly garish-looking woman. “Do you think that she is, well—”
“Yes, I think she probably is,” India said uneasily. She was not so sheltered as to be unaware of women who sold their bodies, and probably their souls, to survive. God knows there were plenty in London. Nor was she so narrow-minded as to believe these women had a choice. More than likely circumstances of birth and poverty had left them few options in life. Legitimate work for women, especially those of the lowest classes, was scarce. Why even someone such as herself—of good family and modest means—had little opportunity for honest employment. She was well aware that a dire fate was never far from any woman who had no husband or family to depend upon.
“India!” Estelle grabbed her arm. “Look, across the street—isn’t that Frederick?”
“I can’t tell. He’s too far away.” India peered at the top-hatted figure headed away from them.
“I can’t make him out. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.” Estelle reached for the door.
“You’ll never catch him. I’ll go.” Even as India opened the door, she knew this was not her brightest idea. “Stay here.”
She jumped out of the carriage, dodged the oncoming traffic and fairly sprinted to the other side of the street. She hurried after the man, striding ahead of her at a leisurely speed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted he was unaccompanied and wondered where Lord Brookings was.
“Professor,” she called. He was still a few strides away. She picked up her pace. “Professor.” She reached out and grabbed his arm.
He turned, and she realized her mistake.
“I beg your pardon.” He directed a disgusted look at her hand on his arm.
She released him at once. “My apologies. I thought you were someone else.”
“No doubt.” He was the right height and build as the professor and even sported the same style of beard, and he was certainly English, but there the resemblance ended.
“I am sorry.” She took a step back.
“As well you should be.” His bushy brows drew together. “An Englishwoman like yourself. I assure you, I am not in the market for what you are selling.”
“Not in the—oh!” She gasped, indignation washed though her. “I’ll have you know I am not selling anything. This was an honest mistake.”
“A mistake perhaps but allow me to question the honesty of it.” He huffed, turned and strode away.
For a moment, India could only stare. How dare he! Why, she’d never been so insulted in her life! Just because a respectable woman wore a purple dress in a questionable area of a city did not mean she was an...unfortunate! That gentleman—although one did have to question that—deserved a stern dressing-down on the insulting consequences of jumping to conclusions. And she was just the woman to do it! She took a step after him and caught sight of Estelle gesturing from the window of the carriage. India pulled up short.
What on earth was she thinking? Certainly his insult had earned him an impassioned rebuke, but nothing, save perhaps a measure of self-satisfaction, could be gained by going after the man. And what would Derek say if he knew she’d left the carriage after she’d said she wouldn’t? She turned toward the carriage.
“What a shame, mademoiselle.” A large, dark-eyed brute with an unrestrained mustache and stubble on his chin stepped in her path. His French was not as refined as hers, but she had no trouble understanding his words. Or the look in his eye. “To be tossed aside that way. Stupid English.” He turned his head and spit in a most revolting manner.
“I beg your pardon.” She drew herself up to her full if inadequate height. “I am English.”
“My apologies, mademoiselle. But you are the English rose, and he is a fool.” He leaned close, the garlic on his breath nearly overwhelming. “And I am a lover of flowers.” He grabbed her arm.
“Unhand me at once.” She tried to shake off his hand, but his grip tightened. She couldn’t recall ever having been afraid before, but what was surely fear rose in her throat.
“I would do as she asks if I were you,” a familiar voice said casually.
Relief washed through her. “Derek, I—”
“Shut up, India,” he said in English, then returned his attention to her admirer. “It would be in your best interest to release her.”
“Why? She is available, is she not?” A predatory gleam showed in the brute’s eyes. The man was a good half a foot taller than Derek, broader and harder looking. Derek was obviously no match for this man. “And I like them small and spirited.”
Derek stepped closer to the man and spoke low into his ear. The brute’s eyes widened; he let her go at once and leaped back. He crossed himself, staring at her as if she were the devil incarnate. “Mon Dieu.” He turned and sprinted away.
“Come along, India.” Derek grabbed her elbow and hurried her toward the carriage. “Now.”
“What did you say to him?” She looked over her shoulder. Her assailant hadn’t so much as slowed his step.
“I told him I was a doctor, you were my patient who had escaped from my care and you were highly contagious.”
India could barely keep up with him. “What did you say I had?”
“You don’t want to know,” he said in hard, clipped tones. They reached the carriage, he yanked open the door and practically tossed her inside. She plopped down beside Estelle, who patted her hand in encouragement. Derek gave directions to the driver, then took his seat. She couldn’t see his face in the dark interior, but it wasn’t necessary to know he was annoyed with her.
“Are you all right?” Estelle asked, concern in her voice.
“Quite.” India summoned a measure of calm. “Obviously that was not the professor.”
“But it was very brave of you to go after him.”
“Brave?” Derek fairly sputtered with outrage. More than merely annoyed then. “Stupid is a more accurate term.”
“I have always heard there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity,” Estelle said, obviously trying to be helpful.
“Derek, I—”
“That was the most irresponsible, foolish thing I have ever seen.” Anger underlay his words. “You promised to stay in the carriage.”
“We thought we saw the professor, and we didn’t want him to get away.”
“It didn’t seem stupid at the time,” Estelle added.
“I expected better. From both of you,” he snapped. “Do you know what might have happened to you?”
“I believe I have some idea.” India folded her hands together in her lap to still their shaking. She pulled in a deep, calming breath. “And I am never irresponsible.”
“Ha!”
“So, am I to assume you did not find my husband?” Estelle ventured.
“I did not,” he said sharply. “The doorman told me he and my brother were there briefly and then left. Apparently to return home.”
“Oh, that is good to hear.” Estelle breathed a sigh of relief.
“Derek.” India braced herself. “In hindsight, as much as it pains me to say this...” She was not used to admitting her mistakes. She was not used to making mistakes. This was far more difficult than she had imagined. “While it did seem necessary at the time, I did not give my actions due consideration. I acted upon impulse—which I might point out I am not prone to do—as well as in a most, well, less than responsible manner. I have no excuse. I don’t understand it myself—”
“It was an adventure, dear,” Estelle said under her breath. “One can never underestimate the lure of adventure. I suspect it causes even the most rational among us to do foolish things they would never think of doing otherwise.”
“Thank you, Estelle. Nonetheless, it was...” India blew a long breath. “Stupid. You were right, Derek.”
Silence hung heavy in the carriage for an endless moment.
“Well.” A desperate note sounded in Estelle’s voice. “That’s that then. I’m sure we can put this behind us now and, well...”
India nodded. “Excellent idea. I know I intend to never mention it again.”
A disgruntled snort sounded from Derek’s side of the carriage.
The moment they arrived at Lord Brookings’s, Estelle bolted from the carriage, muttering her thanks in her wake. His lordship’s expertly trained footman opened the door, and she shot into the house as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. India didn’t blame her. She would have dashed toward the house herself, but she suspected escaping Derek’s ire was not going to be that easy. Not that she didn’t deserve it. He helped her out of the carriage, and they started for the door.
“India.” He stopped.
She turned toward him, his face illuminated by the flickering gaslight. “Yes?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“Don’t be absurd,” she said in a gracious and relieved manner. “You were upset, understandably so. It was a, well, awkward—”
“Awkward?” he said slowly.
“I suppose perilous might be a better word.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh my, yes.” She nodded. “He was much bigger than you. I don’t know what might have happened had you needed to resort to fisticuffs.”
“I assure you I would have held my own.” He paused. “For the first minute or two.”
“Fortunately, you were cleverer than that, and physical means were not necessary.”
“India—”
“But as I was saying,” she said quickly. It did seem better not to allow him to get a word in. “You had every right to be angry, and no apology is necessary.”
He stared in disbelief. “You think my apology is because I was angry? Justifiably angry? You understand the danger of the situation was not just for myself?”
She shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “Yes, I suppose.”
“I’m apologizing for suggesting I kiss you.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I know how you are about impropriety. Therefore, you have my apology.”
“Then you didn’t want to kiss me?” she said without thinking. Not that she wanted him to kiss her, of course. That would indeed be improper. And she wasn’t sure one’s first kiss should be in a notorious district in a decadent city.
“Oh, make no mistake, India, I would like nothing better than to kiss you. This was not the first time it has occurred to me.” He paused as if debating his words. “However, it seemed an apology was called for on my part as you were willing to apologize to me.”
It was her turn to stare. “I didn’t apologize.”
“You said I was right. You admitted you should have stayed in the carriage.”
“It was an admission, an acknowledgment if you will, of my mistake.” She shrugged. “I didn’t actually apologize for it.”
“Don’t you think you should?” He stepped closer and glared down at her. “If not for ignoring your promise to stay in the carriage, then for, at the very least, scaring the hell out of me?” His voice rose, and there was genuine concern in his tone. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw you in the hands of that animal? I have never been so terrified in my life!”
She stared up at him. “Oh.”
“Oh?” He stepped closer, so close she could see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. “Oh?”
“Oh...” Close enough to pull her into his arms and kiss her, if he was so inclined. Her heart thudded in her chest. “Oh, I...I apologize? I obviously wasn’t thinking, and I am truly sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” Was he so inclined? He stared down at her. “You are not infallible, India Prendergast.”
She nodded. “I am aware of that.”
“Good.” His gaze shifted to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Please try to keep it in mind in the future.”
“Yes, of course.” She leaned closer.
A footman peered out the open door.
Derek took a step back. “I shall see you in the morning, then, to resume our Grand Hotel search.”
She nodded. “In the morning.”
He accompanied her into the house and bid her good-night. She started up the stairs. She knew without looking his gaze followed her. What was he thinking? Did he regret not kissing her? And did he still wish to kiss her? India had never been kissed before and had never paid any attention to that omission in her life. Now...
She reached her room, closed the door behind her and sank onto the bed. Odd, the fact that he had wanted to kiss her, had confessed that tonight was not the first time the thought had occurred to him, eclipsed the other events of the night.
She had nearly been kissed. By a rogue, a scoundrel, a man who had no doubt kissed dozens—even hundreds—of women. He was probably quite skilled at it. Still, he hadn’t kissed her and by now had probably changed his mind about kissing her altogether. Which was for the best really.
Why, she had no desire to kiss Derek Saunders. None whatsoever. So it made absolutely no sense that she had the awful, sinking feeling that she had just taken the wrong turn at a crossroads.
And her life would never be the same.