CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Guidebooks are indispensable and should be carried at all times. But do not rely on them to the exclusion of unforeseen possibilities. Some of the best travel adventures are those that are not planned.
—The Lady Travelers Society Guide
“WHEN YOU SAID you wished to show me the sights, I had no idea you wanted to show me everything at once.” India gazed out over the city of Paris at her feet and tried not to think about just how high up this highest platform of the Eiffel Tower really was. Or rather tried not to think how far it was to the ground. And tried very hard to ignore words like plummet or tumble or thud, which kept popping into her head.
Derek rested his forearms on the railing and leaned forward, which did not strike her as wise. “I thought this would be a unique opportunity to see the city as few have seen it before.”
“Aside from birds?”
He chuckled, his gaze firmly fixed on the vista spread before him.
“Well, you did say opportunities should be seized,” she murmured and returned to her perusal of the City of Light—which Derek had explained had more to do with the city’s position in the last century as a place of enlightenment and education than being the first city in Europe to illuminate its streets with gas lighting. He did seem to relish sharing such insights.
She hadn’t expected—or particularly wanted—to go up in the architectural monstrosity that could be seen from everywhere in the city. In that, she was apparently alone. If she’d thought the boulevards and streets of Paris were crowded, they paled in comparison to the hordes of Parisians and visitors that swarmed into the exposition. They waited in long queues for lemonade and souvenirs and especially their turn to begin the terrifying series of elevators that would take them to this highest public platform of the Eiffel Tower. She was fairly certain she’d never heard so many different languages in one place before. She and Derek had avoided waiting too long in the warm afternoon sun thanks to Lord Brookings, who supplied two special tickets that allowed them to move to the front of the queue.
India had never thought she was afraid of heights but then—until today—she’d never been tested. The elevators provided a relatively smooth ride but had an appalling tendency to jerk now and then on the way to the summit. While there were gasps of alarm from several of those in the elevator car with them, India was pleased that she had not so much as uttered a word. It was not easy.
“I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you chose to accept my advice,” Derek said with a satisfied grin, his attention still directed toward the view.
“I wouldn’t become accustomed to it if I were you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”
The platform seemed steady enough although there was a bit of a breeze, and India was certain the entire structure swayed with the light wind. In that, she might have been mistaken as no one else seemed to notice. There were far more people up here than she would have considered safe, but Derek had assured her this level was constructed to hold as many as nine hundred visitors. Even so, it was not overly reassuring. Derek was a fount of knowledge about the Eiffel Tower, the exposition and Paris itself. It was as if she had a personal guide, which was really rather nice and far more interesting than she would have expected. And she was willing to admit—however reluctantly—that the view was indeed magnificent.
“Did you know, on a clear day you can see as far as fifty miles?”
“Why, I had no idea,” she said drily.
“You can deny it all you want, but I am well aware you are enjoying this.”
“Am I?”
“You are. I can see it in your face and even you have to admit seeing Paris spread out before us is remarkable.”
She started to deny it, but it was absurd. He was right. “I believe I am enjoying this at that.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Refuse to admit that you might well be enjoying something you did not expect to enjoy.”
“Nonsense. I just said I was enjoying this.”
“Reluctantly.”
“I do apologize if I did not muster up the proper level of enthusiasm,” she said lightly.
“I think you even enjoyed Montmartre.”
“Everything looks better in hindsight, Derek.” She bit back a smile. The further away they moved from that night, the more, well, adventurous it became. Certainly, she had never sought adventure, but it did seem when adventure presented itself, it was irrational to waste the experience. Only as a lesson learned, of course.
“I suppose if you admit you’re enjoying something then you would have to admit that you might, just might, have been wrong,” he said thoughtfully.
“I don’t refuse to admit when I’m wrong.” She sniffed. “It’s simply that I am never wrong.”
His brow rose.
“If one is right, there is no need to doubt one’s actions. Especially if one has responsibilities for the well-being of others.” Although she was beginning to lose track of how many times she’d been wrong since she’d met Derek.
“You were wrong about coming up here.”
“On the contrary, I never said a word in protest.”
He snorted. “You didn’t have to. It was apparent.”
She was about to deny it when it struck her that, once again, he was right. Whether it was habit or inclination she did exactly what he was charging. Without warning, she saw herself as an old woman, complaining about everything that wasn’t done precisely to her liking and refusing to acknowledge when something was better than she expected. When she was wrong. As that would surely be a sign of...what? Weakness? Dependence? Not accepting one’s duty? She had no idea, but it was a horrible image and certainly the end of the path she was on. Worse, it did seem that woman was not merely old but alone. As a glimpse of the future it was terrifying. But was it unavoidable, as well?
“India?” he said cautiously. “You look distraught. I am sorry if I—”
“Well, you did,” she said sharply. “Even if you’ve said nothing that probably isn’t true.” She drew a deep breath. “Ever since I arrived in Paris, ever since I met you, it seems everyone I meet is determined to point out my...my flaws to me. Flaws I was quite frankly unaware of. No one has ever seen fit to mention them before.”
“Perhaps you didn’t give them a chance.”
“Perhaps it was better that way!”
“Perhaps,” he said mildly and wisely changed the subject. “If we follow the railing to the left, we should be able to see the Cathedral of Notre Dame.”
“I believe I will enjoy that.” She glared and moved in the direction he indicated. “I can hardly wait to see what flaws God might see fit to point out to me.”
He choked back a laugh behind her. She ignored him. She was not the least bit amused.
From this distance, the cathedral looked like little more than a child’s toy but then everything below them did. Carriages, omnibuses, tramway cars were nothing more than moving shapes. People were no bigger than minuscule insects. It was an interesting perspective on the world, and her irritation faded.
She braced her hands on the railing and stared out at the cathedral and beyond. She had heard that travel broadened one’s mind. She wasn’t sure if her mind had been broadened at all, but her eyes had certainly been opened. She had already realized she had a propensity for intolerance and a greater tendency toward impatience than she had thought, especially with the flaws of others. Now she was discovering she had a great many unsuspected flaws herself. Flaws she should probably correct. But not today. Determination squared her chin. Today, she had a scoundrel to redeem.
“Derek.” She glanced at him beside her. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh good, I was afraid you hadn’t,” he said in a resigned manner.
She frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“In the two days since I agreed to let you try to convince me to reform, for lack of a better word, you have begun every conversation on the subject with ‘I’ve been thinking.’”
“And you have cut off every conversation.”
“Because I had no intention of listening to you until you began fulfilling your end of the bargain.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” She waved at the panorama around them. “On top of the highest structure man has ever built.”
“But you’re not very gracious about it.”
“I am bloody delighted!”
He lowered his voice. “We are beginning to attract attention. It scarcely matters to me but—”
“Once more you’re right.” She forced a smile. “Is that better?”
“If you mean the alleged smile—it’s somewhat frightening.” He returned his gaze to the panoramic view. “However, I am made of sterner stuff than to let an insincere smile dissuade me.”
“That is good to know.” She widened her smile although she suspected it did look more like her stomach hurt than anything remotely pleasant. Regardless, it was the best she could manage at the moment. “I was only going to say that I was wondering if my cousin had made it up here. Going to the top of the Eiffel Tower was one of the things she hoped to do in Paris.”
“Then I can’t imagine she would have missed it.” He paused. “Which could indicate we might be close to finding her.”
“Are we?”
“The elevators only began operating last week. I can’t imagine even the intrepid Lady Heloise would wish to climb the steps.”
“No, she’s not overly fond of steps.”
“If she was here as recently as last week, she might still be here.”
India nodded. “The exposition and the tower were two of the reasons she intended to linger for a while in Paris. That and the art.”
“I think you mentioned her interest in art before.”
“Heloise adores art and has studied it for most of her life. She also fancies herself an artist. She has a studio of sorts on the top floor of the house and spends a great deal of time with her paints and brushes and canvases.”
“Rather frivolous, don’t you think?” he teased.
“Not at all,” she said staunchly, then sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid I do. Especially as, well, she’s not very good at it. The walls of the house are covered with her efforts. She’s quite proud of them.”
“And you have never told her the truth?”
“Goodness, Derek, I would never tell her that.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
She glanced at him but his attention was still on the scenic view. “You’re surprised.”
He chuckled.
“I deserve that I suppose. But Heloise has been very kind to me. She is my family.” She hesitated then plunged ahead. “Heloise was my mother’s cousin. My parents were engaged in missionary work when they died. I had just started at Miss Bicklesham’s—I was always boarding at some school or another as my parents were rarely in England. Heloise was named my guardian and my home has been with her ever since. She managed to continue to fund my education even though her income is limited.”
“Is it?”
She nodded. “I owe her a great deal. She’s been both mother and dearest friend to me.” Her throat tightened. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Or what she would do without you?”
“Perhaps.” She pushed aside the disconcerting thought of never seeing Heloise again. “I took over management of her household and very nearly everything else when I finished school. She has only the vaguest idea how to run a house. She never concerns herself with what she deems unimportant details. She does see to the household accounts but only because I stand over her and force her to do so although she has always been concerned about money.” She smiled. “But Heloise is not what one would call organized.”
“Imagine my surprise.”
“This excursion of hers is a perfect example. Right from the beginning, she was not definitive in her travel plans. She said she might be gone anywhere from six months to a year and fully intended to stay as long as she wished anywhere that caught her fancy.” She thought for a moment. “I did not pay as much attention to the details as I should have. I’m not sure I thought she would really leave.”
He nodded.
“You’ve mentioned the lax nature of her itinerary—” she glanced at him “—for which I blame the Lady Travelers Society as much as I blame Heloise.”
“As well you should.”
She turned toward him. “The other day you derided me because I have no desires, nothing I particularly want. I admit I don’t understand it, but Heloise wanted to see for herself things she had only seen in paintings or photographs. It was her dream. I had no idea she was doing it, but it seems she set aside money for years—small bits and pieces she could ill afford really, so that she might one day see the world beyond England’s shores. I suspect she gave up a fresh canvas here or a new tube of paint there to save funds for this trip of hers. I imagine in that respect, she was not unlike most of the members of the Lady Travelers Society.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “In that they wish to see the world?”
“And they are willing to sacrifice to do so.” Determination strengthened her voice. “I saw the ladies at the meeting, Derek. They were not wealthy. Women with money do not attend lectures and meetings about travel. They travel. They do not have to save their pennies to finance their dreams. The women you are taking money from do.”
An undefined emotion washed across his face. Guilt perhaps? Or regret?
“One could say you are stealing their dreams.”
He winced. “It sounds awful when you put it like that.”
“It is awful.”
“I had not looked at it in quite that way.” He shook his head. “It certainly deserves further consideration.”
“Good.” At the moment, that was all she could ask for. But the very fact that he would consider what she had said was gratifying. As was the expression on his face. She was right—underneath it all, Derek was a good man.
“For someone who admits she has no dreams...” He studied her closely. “You seem to understand quite a lot about them.”
“Do I?” She smiled. “I assure you no one is more surprised at that than I.”
His gaze searched hers. “There is so much more to you than you would have people see.”
“I imagine that could be said about any of us.”
“I very much want to kiss you, India Prendergast.”
“Still?” She stared up at him.
He chuckled. “Apparently.”
“Why?” It was the first thing that came to mind.
“Any number of reasons, I suspect.” Bewilderment shone in his blue eyes, then resolve. “None of which I wish to detail at the moment.”
“But—” She glanced around. No one seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to them. “Here? Now?” Her pulse sped up.
“We are on the top of the world.” His gaze slipped to her lips and back. “I can’t think of a better place or time.”
She swallowed hard. “But there are a great many people here.”
“And yet.” He stepped closer. “I see only you.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “Everyone will stare.”
“Let them.”
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “Kissing in public, Derek, that’s highly improper and, well, scandalous.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“Of course not, you’ve done worse.” She shook her head. “But I care.”
“You said you didn’t care about what other people think.”
“I lied.” She sighed. “Besides, it’s pointless.”
“Pointless?” He narrowed his gaze in confusion.
“There can never be anything between us.” This was much harder to say than she’d imagined. “I believe we agreed on that.”
“I don’t recall agreeing to anything quite that absurd.”
“It was implied.” She turned back toward the view. “When we discussed the type of woman you are expected to marry. I am not that woman.”
“Nor do I believe I said anything about marriage.” Amusement sounded in his voice.
“I am well aware of that. I am not so stuffy as to believe a kiss is a commitment to eternity.”
“God forbid.”
She ignored him. “But a kiss is more than just a frivolous moment. At least it should be. And it is for most of us. Perhaps not for you.”
“I have always liked frivolous moments.”
“And I am not the least bit frivolous. I have always thought a kiss to be something of a...a promise.”
“A beginning then?” he said cautiously.
“Well, yes. But as anything between us other than friendship is impossible, it seems foolish to begin something that cannot end well.”
“I don’t understand this at all.” He paused. “Have you never been kissed, India?”
“I am not in the habit of randomly kissing gentlemen.” Or kissing anyone at all.
“There is nothing random about this. As I have already confessed, I have given the idea of kissing you a great deal of thought. And more so in recent days.”
“Well then perhaps spontaneous is a better word.” She shrugged. “As I assume you did not plan for this particular moment.”
“No.” Frustration sounded in his voice. “And while it might have been spontaneous a moment ago, I assure you the spontaneity of it has passed.”
“Then you no longer wish to kiss me?” She held her breath.
“Oh, I still wish to kiss you.” He heaved a resigned sigh. “But this is obviously not the right moment.”
“Obviously.” She ignored the unexpected disappointment that washed through her. “If that’s settled then...” She had the most absurd desire to flee. “If you will pardon me for a moment, I wish to...um...see the view elsewhere...” She turned and stepped away, circling around the tourists in her path.
Good Lord! She stopped short. What on earth was she running from? She was nearly thirty years old and had never been kissed! She’d never so much as given it a second thought before, but now it struck her as truly awful. And somewhat pathetic. And shouldn’t she do something about it? Carpe diem, after all.
Before she could think better of it, she swiveled on her heel and marched back to Derek.
“Yes?” His brow rose.
She grabbed the lapels of his coat, rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The most remarkable spark of something electric and quite wonderful shot through her at the feel of his warm lips against hers. He smelled vaguely of warm spice and tasted faintly of lemonade and summer.
She released him, stepped back and caught her breath. “There.”
“There?” He looked as taken aback as she felt.
“Now I have been kissed on the Eiffel Tower,” she said with a surprisingly firm nod given something had replaced her stomach with a quivering mass of aspic.
“On the contrary, my dear Miss Prendergast. I have been kissed on the Eiffel Tower. You have not.”
“You did kiss me back.”
“A natural response to being kissed, but you caught me by surprise.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “It was not my best effort.”
She frowned. “The, well, quality of the kiss cannot be blamed on me. Indeed, I thought it was...”
“Adequate, no more than adequate. And you’re absolutely right—it cannot be blamed on you.” He pulled her into his arms and stared intently down at her. “But my dear Miss Prendergast, this can.” He pressed his lips to hers.
For a moment, she froze. Then unexpected heat swept through her, and she thought she would surely melt into a small puddle of heretofore unsuspected sensation and something...more. He angled his mouth harder over hers. Her lips opened slightly, and her breath mingled with his and...and adequate was the farthest thing from her mind. And she knew without question or doubt, this kiss, this moment, this man would linger in her thoughts, in her heart for the rest of her days. Still, it wasn’t a promise or a beginning, it was no more than a foolish error in judgment.
She pulled back and struggled to catch her breath. “People are staring, Mr. Saunders.” She stared up at him. “You should, well, release me, I think.”
“I thought you didn’t care what people say?” He stared down at her.
“I don’t care what they say. I care what they see.” She drew a deep breath and pushed out of his arms. “This was...” She shook her head. “A dreadful mistake.”
“What?” His brows drew together. “Why?”
“Because I am...” She impatiently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Eroding as it were. With every minute, you are wearing me away. What I think. How I feel. The rules I have always lived my life by.” She shook her head. “And this cannot end well.”
“Why?”
“You know why!”
“No, I don’t.” He glared at her. “And that nonsense you keep bringing up about the type of woman I am supposed to be with is nothing but...nonsense. Complete and utter foolishness. And you are far too intelligent to believe that.”
“It’s simply the way things are.” Her voice rose. “You can protest it all you want, but you cannot deny the facts of it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what this is about at all.” He studied her intently. Realization dawned on his face. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”
As much as she had decided he was, somewhere deep inside, a decent man, he was also right. “I’ve made no effort to conceal that.”
“I understand your reticence to trust me when we first met. Now, however, I thought I had proved myself to be most trustworthy.”
“Somewhat, I suppose, perhaps, but—”
“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” He glared at her with equal parts anger and disbelief. “You haven’t trusted me from the beginning, and you are unwilling to bend so much as the tiniest bit to admit that just possibly, once again, you were wrong.”
“That’s not entirely fair.” She raised her chin.
“The world is not fair, India—remember?”
“I...” She stared at him for a long moment. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss whatever feelings she—or he—might have. Nor did she have any idea what to say. This was not the kind of problem she knew how to solve. She straightened her shoulders. “I have no desire to discuss this further. Any of it.”
Someone behind them cleared his throat, and Derek stepped back. The most awful sense of mortification swept over her, and she did so wish she was the type of woman who fainted.
“I should like to leave now,” she said coolly.
“And I should like to take another turn around the platform.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “And the discussion is far from over.” He nodded and strode off.
She turned back to the endless view of Paris and stared unseeing into the distance. Somewhere, in a part of her mind not oddly still and numb, she noted people continuing to move past her. She heard excited comments about the view and the remarkable nature of the tower. The world, even here at the tallest manmade pinnacle, continued as it always had, as it always would.
But India would never be the same. Something inside her had changed. Twisted. Shattered. The question was why, and she had no answer. Regardless, it seemed to hold a great deal of pain.
Derek returned a few minutes later. “If you’re ready...”
“More than ready,” she murmured and accompanied him toward the elevators. They joined the crowd waiting for the next ride down.
The ride to the ground, including the changing of elevators, was fraught with tension. As if they were each tied to the end of a taut rope that neither could break or ease. The silence between them on the return to the house was broken only by an occasional terse question on his part or hers. They’d originally planned to explore some of the exposition but neither now seemed inclined to do anything other than retreat to Lord Brookings’s house.
For the first time in her life, India didn’t know what to say and thought it best to say nothing. She was by turns angry, regretful and astonished. None of this would have happened if he had not announced he wished to kiss her. Why on earth did he have to do that? What was he thinking? And if he really wanted to kiss her, why? Did he harbor feelings of affection for her? Perhaps he should have mentioned that. And why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? About him?
Much of the blame really should be put on her. Whatever possessed her to make such a spectacle of herself? She’d kissed him! She’d never kissed a man before. Had never wanted to. And who would have imagined how...moving that kiss would be? Although it did pale in comparison to the kiss he gave her.
After what seemed like forever, they arrived at the house. He escorted her inside, then turned to her in the foyer.
“Once again, I owe you an apology, India,” he said coolly. “I put you in an awkward position in public, and for that I am truly sorry. Apparently, whenever I wish to kiss you, it does not end well. However, it was a kiss. Nothing more than that. And you’re right. It was a mistake. Good day.” He started toward the parlor, then paused and returned. “I nearly forgot.” He pulled a large coin from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to her. “Something to remind you of the day.” He nodded and took his leave.
She stared after him for a long moment.
She’d been kissed for the first time. In a public place. By a man who was as much scoundrel as gentleman. A man with whom there could be no future. A man who now was obviously furious with her.
She looked down at the object in her hand. It wasn’t a coin but a medal. On the side facing her was a depiction of the Eiffel Tower dwarfing world monuments including Saint Paul’s Cathedral and the pyramids, together with the dates of the tower’s construction and opening. She turned it over. On the other side, in French, was written that this was a souvenir of ascending to the summit of the Eiffel Tower. She’d never had a souvenir before.
How terribly ironic that now she had a souvenir of a day she couldn’t possibly ever forget.