CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I BEG YOUR PARDON.” Derek stepped forward. Who in the hell was this? “I don’t know who you are but—”
“Derek.” India placed her hand on his arm to stop him, her gaze locked on the newcomer. Shock shone on her face. “Allow me to introduce Sir Martin Luckthorne.” She drew a deep breath. “My employer.”
“And friend.” Luckthorne stepped closer. “Your very close friend.”
This is Sir Martin? Surely not. According to Derek’s information Sir Martin was in his forties, scholarly and considered somewhat eccentric. This man looked far younger than his years, appeared to be in excellent condition judging by the breadth of his shoulders, had an air of solid determination about him and was not what one would call unattractive. This was India’s employer for the past eight years without so much as a hint of impropriety? What was wrong with the man?
“I must say, India.” Luckthorne frowned. “I did not expect this.”
“And I did not expect you.” India shook her head, still obviously stunned by the new arrival. “What are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes. “And what did you not expect?”
“I did not expect to see you standing in some man’s arms—”
“Or Derek Saunders, if you will, rather than some man,” Derek said. “Although I suppose I might have been called some man on occasion.”
“The Derek Saunders?” Luckthorne stared.
She stepped toward him. “Martin—”
“The rogue? The scoundrel? The mastermind behind the plot to defraud hapless women out of their savings?” Luckthorne’s indignation rang in the ballroom.
A bit overdone really.
“Did you call me a mastermind?” Derek said in an aside to India.
“Yes.” She grimaced. “But that scarcely matters at the moment.”
“And yet I am rather flattered.” He chuckled.
“Flattered?” Luckthorne sputtered.
“Come now, Sir Martin,” Derek said coolly. “The word mastermind denotes both power and intelligence. Why would I not be flattered?”
“You forget scoundrel, as well!”
“I chose to ignore it. And rogue.” He shrugged. “Not the least bit complimentary. I much prefer mastermind. What say you, India? Is it scoundrel or mastermind?”
“Regardless, it—you—are most annoying, and this is beside the point,” she said sharply and directed her attention back to her employer. “Once again, what are you doing here?”
“I assumed, as you did not telegraph as per our agreement, that something had gone horribly wrong and you needed my help.” He squared his shoulders. “You needed rescue.”
India stared. “From what?”
“A mastermind perhaps?” Derek said in an overly innocent manner.
“I can now see I may have been mistaken.” Luckthorne shot Derek a scathing glare.
“In my last telegram I distinctly told you I would not send additional telegrams.”
“You said—” He pulled a telegram from his waistcoat pocket. “‘Search progressing. All is well. No further telegrams necessary. Prendergast.’ What was I supposed to think?”
“You were supposed to think the search was progressing, everything was fine and there was no need for continued telegrams!” She glared. “I really don’t understand why you didn’t.”
“Perhaps because this—” he waved the telegram at her “—was vague and ambiguous and—”
“I only had ten words! I believe I did quite well under the circumstances.”
“It sounded rather clear to me,” Derek said under his breath.
“It sounded like someone who was being held against her will!”
“Against my will?” She scoffed. “That’s the most absurd thing I have ever heard. You of all people should know I would never allow anyone to hold me against my will.”
“She has you there,” Derek murmured.
“You gave me your word that you would send a telegram every three days—”
Derek snorted in derision.
“And I have never known you to go back on your word.” Luckthorne shook his head. “So naturally, I assumed the worst. You are the most responsible person I know.”
“The tide has apparently turned there.” Even so... Derek frowned. “Why didn’t you continue to telegraph him?”
She hesitated. “I needed the money he gave me for the telegrams.”
“Why?” Luckthorne’s brows drew together. “You assured me before you left that you had more than enough to see you through for several months.”
“Yes, indeed, India.” Derek narrowed his gaze. “I, too, thought you had suitable funding.”
“I did.” Her gaze shifted between Derek and her employer; then she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and heaved a resigned sigh. “But I lost it.”
“Lost it? You?” Luckthorne stared in confusion. “I find that hard to believe.” He slanted a suspicious look at Derek. “Are you certain it wasn’t stolen?”
Bloody hell. Was Luckthorne charging him with stealing India’s money? Good. No one could possibly blame him now for taking the man outside and thrashing him thoroughly. He adopted a cold smile. He intended to enjoy this. “Are you implying that I stole Miss Prendergast’s money?”
“Don’t be absurd,” India said quickly. “You’re not. Are you, Martin?”
Luckthorne hesitated, studying Derek warily. No doubt considering whether he stood a chance in a physical confrontation. “No, of course not,” the coward said at last. “But you should have telegraphed me, India. I would have sent you whatever you needed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek stared at her. She was obviously loath to continue. He’d never seen her so hesitant before. “How did you lose your money?”
“I didn’t want to telegraph you,” she said to Luckthorne, “because I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want to ask for your help. It might have been foolish, but there it is.” She turned to Derek. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was an idiot.”
“You are perhaps the most intelligent woman I have ever met,” Derek said.
“As much as I hate to shatter that illusion...” She met his gaze and cringed. “I hid most of my money in my trunk.”
Good God. Luckthorne’s suspicions weren’t entirely wrong. “The trunk that went astray?”
She nodded.
“Oh, well...” Any vague thought he might have had about confessing his role in her missing trunk at some point in the far distant future vanished. “That is awkward.”
“At the very least.” She shook her head. “I thought it would be safer than carrying it all with me.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s safe.” Derek tried and failed to adopt a confident tone. No, this was a secret he would have to take to his grave. “Wherever it is.”
“You do understand how humiliating I find this.”
Genuine guilt ripped through him.
“In hindsight it seems so stupid.”
“Mistakes like this are bound to happen when one is not an experienced traveler,” Derek said in as supportive a tone as he could manage. “Your trunk could have easily arrived exactly where it was supposed to be. It was a stroke of bad luck that it didn’t.”
“Regardless, this is no longer of any consequence,” Luckthorne said firmly. “I am here now, and I intend to return with you immediately to London.”
“You what?” India’s voice rose and her eyes widened.
“It’s obviously past time. Why, I scarcely recognized you.” He glared at her. “What have you done to yourself?”
Her hand flew to her hair. “I am doing my hair a bit differently.”
“And your dress!”
“I quite like it, Martin.” A hard tone colored her words.
It was difficult not to wince. Derek almost pitied the man as he was clearly not as intelligent as Derek had heard. Only a fool would fail to recognize that note in India’s voice.
“It’s not at all like you. Why...” Luckthorne waved at her dress as if to brush it away. “It isn’t even gray!”
“She looks lovely,” Derek said mildly.
“I am well aware of that,” Luckthorne snapped.
“And are you also aware that you are my employer?” India said sharply. “Only my employer.”
“I am indeed! Which is precisely why—”
“Sir Martin!” Mother’s voice rang out over the ballroom. She swept down the stairs and headed toward them. “How delightful to see you again.”
“Do you know her?” India said in a low voice to Luckthorne.
“No.” He stared at the oncoming marchioness as if he were a reclusive feline and she a very exuberant lapdog. Derek had never seen anyone look quite so apprehensive at his mother’s approach, well, not when she was being this charming. “At least I don’t think I do. Who is she?”
“Lady Westvale,” India said under her breath. “And for God’s sakes, Martin, don’t let on that you don’t remember her as she obviously has met you.”
“My dear man, I must apologize for not greeting you when you arrived.” Mother beamed and sailed toward them, extending her hand. “You will be staying here with us I hope? For the ball?”
“The ball?” He took her hand and bowed awkwardly over it.
“Lord and Lady Westvale and her son Lord Brookings are hosting a ball here tomorrow night,” India said.
“I had planned to stay at a hotel.” Luckthorne released Mother’s hand and straightened. “And return to London tomorrow.”
“Oh, my dear man, that will never do.” Mother shook her head. “There is a world exposition here, you know. There is not a room to be had anywhere in Paris.” She cast him a triumphant smile. “You will absolutely have to stay here.”
“Nonetheless, I really don’t think—”
“Furthermore, I would be most distraught if you did not remain for the ball.” Mother sighed in an overly dramatic manner. “There hasn’t been a ball in this house for years and I would hate for dear India’s friend—”
“Employer,” Derek said.
“—to miss what will surely be a festive and most enjoyable evening.”
“I have not been to a ball in some time,” Luckthorne said uneasily.
“Then this is the perfect opportunity for you.” Mother glanced at India. “Don’t you agree?”
“I know I have no intention of missing it.” A stubborn note sounded in India’s voice. Derek had heard that tone before. Surely Luckthorne had, too.
“I am here only to offer my assistance to Miss Prendergast. And I would prefer to waste no time in returning to London.”
“Goodness, Sir Martin.” Mother smiled engagingly. “Stealing the time for a bit of frivolity now and again makes life much more enjoyable.”
“I assure you—”
“Besides,” she continued in a casual manner. “If you stay for the ball, you will have the rest of today and all day tomorrow to attend the exposition. Why, the exhibits of the latest inventions and scientific advancements alone would be well worth your time.”
Derek might have known Mother would find a man’s Achilles’ heel and use it to her advantage. While he would have preferred she get rid of Luckthorne altogether, he wasn’t entirely sure the man wouldn’t manage to convince India to return with him.
“I hadn’t considered that,” Luckthorne said thoughtfully. “I had no intention of attending the exposition but I suppose, as I am in Paris...”
“It would be a dreadful shame if a man of your accomplishments missed this spectacle of man’s progress and achievements,” Mother pointed out.
“Perhaps you’re right.” Luckthorne nodded. “Very well then, I shall stay through tomorrow, and we shall return to London on the day after.”
“Wonderful.” Mother beamed and turned toward her son, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “I suspect India would like to have a word with Sir Martin as he has come such a long way to offer his assistance.”
“Thank you, Lady Westvale. Indeed, I have a great deal to say to Sir Martin.” India’s words were measured and controlled, but it was clear to Derek she was not the least bit happy with her employer. He resisted the urge to grin with delight.
“Derek, if you would join me?” Mother took his arm. “I need your opinion on a matter of some importance.”
He glanced at India. She gave the slightest nod of her head. “Of course.” He nodded at Luckthorne. “Sir Martin.”
“Saunders,” the man replied curtly.
Derek steered his mother toward the stairs. “What is this matter of some importance you wish my opinion on?”
“I believe the weather is quite lovely for June. What do you think?”
He stared down at her. “You wanted my opinion on the weather?”
“Goodness, Derek. I thought you were intelligent enough to understand I simply wished to give India a moment alone with Sir Martin without being overly obvious.”
“Why?”
“Because she needs to straighten a few things out with him.”
They started up the stairs. “You noticed that, did you?”
“Didn’t you?”
“Apparently not.” He was too busy noticing Luckthorne’s overly possessive attitude. He should have thrashed the man when he had the chance. “You’ve never met him before, have you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then how did you know—”
“My dear boy.” She shook her head. “Do you really think I would allow you to be smitten with a woman I know nothing about?”
“Smitten?”
“You needn’t deny it. I am your mother, I know these things. While India and I were refurbishing her wardrobe, Stephen made a few inquiries into her background. Naturally, Sir Martin, as her employer, was also of interest.”
“Naturally.”
She slanted him a sharp look. “Sometimes, I cannot tell if you’re annoyed or amused.”
“I’m not annoyed, Mother. I’m most appreciative.” He smiled. “Although it was not necessary. I did the same thing before we left London. And I suspect India made inquiries about me, as well.”
“How very clever of her.” She smiled in a too-smug manner. “I have always wanted an intelligent woman for you. And for your brother, as well. Beauty is fleeting, but a clever woman will keep you on your toes for the rest of your days.”
He chuckled. “You want that for me, do you?”
“Good Lord, Derek.” She cast him a wry look. “You would be quite unbearable otherwise.”
* * *
“WELL?” MARTIN CROSSED his arms over his chest in the manner of a parent reprimanding a child. He could not have picked a worse stance. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“What do I have to say for myself?” India could scarcely get out the words. Aside from any number of times since she’d met Derek, she didn’t think she’d ever been quite so furious with a man in her life.
“You are supposed to be searching for poor Lady Heloise and instead I find you in a grand mansion in the heart of Paris in the arms of a scoundrel you wished to see thrown in prison!”
“Yes, well, I might have been wrong about that,” she snapped.
“You are never wrong! And why are you still in Paris? Shouldn’t you be traveling the continent by now?”
“We have not yet exhausted our search here.”
“You’ve been here nearly a fortnight. How difficult can it be to find one mere woman? I found you easily enough.”
“Then I suggest you attempt it, Martin!” India clenched her teeth and prayed for calm. “According to the papers, approximately one hundred thousand people attend the exposition every day, a fair percentage of them English speaking. They are at every other attraction in Paris, as well, and they have filled the hotels. It is far more difficult to find a mere woman in a crowd of her own countrymen than it is if she appeared out of place. Do you understand?”
“I understand completely. Neither you nor that cad are the least bit equipped to find a woman lost in the streets of Paris or anywhere else.” He set his jaw in a determined manner she’d never seen before. “The moment we return to London, I shall do what I should have done in the first place. I will hire someone to find Lady Heloise, and there’s to be no more discussion about it!”
She stared at him. This was not the Martin she knew. Not the man she’d worked for, and with, for eight years. This was some overbearing, pompous, arrogant tyrant of a beast who thought simply because he paid her a salary he could control her entire life.
“In which case...” She squared her shoulders. “I shall be obliged to submit my letter of resignation.”
For a long moment he stared in disbelief. Then he sighed in surrender. “Very well then, I won’t.”
“You never argue with me,” she said slowly. “You chastise, you parry—on occasion you tease. We are never at odds. You never disagree with me. Indeed, you act as if you don’t have a care in the world.” Realization widened her eyes. “Because you haven’t! Not when I’m there.”
He toyed with his collar as if it were entirely too tight and refused to meet her gaze.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re not as concerned about my safety or locating Heloise as you are that I’m gone and you have to fend for yourself.”
“Now see here, India.” An injured note sounded in his voice. “I was worried about you. Admittedly, it has been difficult for me without you. This is the first time you’ve been gone for more than a day or two in eight years and I didn’t like it.” He sighed. “I didn’t like it one bit.”
“Yet another surprise.”
“I was alone, left to my own devices. I couldn’t think—not about anything of significance. My mind kept drifting to mundane matters, like what I should tell the cook to prepare for dinner or perhaps I should look at the morning post or what I should wear to Wednesday’s lecture.” He paused and pinned her with a helpless look. “I had no idea there were so many minuscule details to attend to in a day. It’s exhausting, India.”
“Is it?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Good God, yes. Worse, I was lonely. I am accustomed to having you to discuss with what I wish to discuss. You are an enormous part of my work and my life. I didn’t realize how important until you were gone. And I admit, I don’t like having to take care of everything, but more I don’t like you not being there.” He waved at her in a petulant gesture, like a small child. “And I don’t like that!”
“What?” She frowned. “Are you referring to my appearance?”
“Yes,” he said in a lofty manner. “I don’t like it.”
“Everyone else does. But more important—” she wasn’t sure she’d actually admitted this to herself “—I like it.”
“Well, I won’t have it. It makes you look entirely too...too attractive.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It’s an admission. I have always thought you most attractive, quite lovely really, but you never did anything to, well, display your charms.”
She choked.
“And therefore no other man seemed to see what I was well aware of. Which was most convenient.” He met her gaze directly. “I did not want to lose you.”
“Oh.” Surprise widened her eyes. She had no idea how to respond to this admission. “Even so, Martin.” She drew a steadying breath. “There was no need to follow me to another country.”
“There was every need.” He huffed. “These weeks without you have brought me to my senses.” He clasped his hands behind his back as he often did when making some sort of pronouncement. “I believe I’m in love with you, India.”
“Of course you are.”
His eyes widened. “You’re not surprised?”
“Why should I be? I take care of nearly everything in your life. Why wouldn’t you think yourself in love with me? At least at the moment.”
“Forever,” he said staunchly.
“Goodness, Martin, the timing alone is questionable. If you were in love with me, I suspect you would have had some inkling before now.”
“Oh, but I have.” He stepped toward her eagerly. “I have had far more than an inkling.”
“And yet you’ve said nothing.”
“There was no need to say anything. Life was well organized and efficient and pleasant. I didn’t have a care in the world. It wasn’t until you left that I realized how much I needed you. And loved you,” he added quickly.
“What you need—” she chose her words with care “—is someone to take care of you.”
“Part and parcel, I believe.” He studied her closely. “You cannot tell me you do not harbor some affection for me, as well.”
“I do indeed, Martin. You are my dear, dear friend. I feel for you as I imagine one might feel for a brother.”
“A brother?” He frowned.
“A cherished brother.”
“That’s not what I thought you would say. I had expected or perhaps hoped, that you...” Realization dawned on his face. “It’s that scoundrel, isn’t it? You’ve fallen in love with him.”
“Good Lord, Martin, now you’re being...” Her breath caught. Hadn’t she already suspected as much?
“I’m being what?”
“Far more perceptive than I would have thought.” She shook her head. “You may be right.”
“Of course, I’m right. It’s not at all far-fetched that you would fall in love with the first man who—”
“That’s enough, Martin,” she said in a cold tone.
“I saw the way you looked at him, and that was not—”
“That is more than enough.” She narrowed her eyes. “You have been my employer and, yes, my friend for eight years. If you wish either of those relationships to continue, you will not say another word.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I apologize.” He sighed. “That was uncalled for. I suspect that’s what jealousy does to a man. Because, you see, it should have been me.”
She considered him thoughtfully. “It probably should have.”
“There is, in most endeavors, an interval of time, usually finite, in which one might set forces in action to be of optimal benefit. A period of opportunity, if you will.” His gaze met hers. “Has ours passed?”
“I’m afraid so.” Odd to think of loving Martin with anything other than friendly affection.
“Regardless, I will warn you, India, now that I have at least realized what I want, I do not intend to give up.” He considered her thoughtfully. “What do we do now?”
“Now?” She grimaced. “I have no idea.”
What was there to do now? Oh, not about Martin, but now that she had accepted her feelings for Derek. Nothing had changed, not really. No matter what she’d said to Derek when they’d danced, she was no more suitable for him now than she had been when they first met. Was this what love did to you? Make you say things you didn’t believe simply because you were in a man’s arms.
Or did it make you believe that anything was possible, if only for the length of a dance?
Derek obviously had feelings for her. While she recognized that she had changed since they’d begun this quest for Heloise, she was not so foolish as to now believe love conquered all. Still, a man had never invaded her dreams before. Or her every waking thought. She’d never longed to be in a man’s arms, or God help her, in his bed. Would it be so wrong to give into those desires? She’d never so much as considered being intimate with a man. But then she’d never had feelings like this before, either. If Paris was all they would ever have, shouldn’t she seize whatever opportunity this adventure she’d stumbled into offered her? And really, was there a better place for seduction than Paris?
“You could marry me, you know,” he said casually.
Her attention snapped back to Martin. “What?”
He squared his shoulders. “Marry me, India.”
Surely he wasn’t serious. “But I am in love with someone else.”
“Someone entirely wrong for you.”
“Is he?”
“Of course he is. You know that as well as I.”
She was hard-pressed to deny it.
“Whereas I am perfect for you.” Eagerness sounded in his voice. “You admit you have some affection for me, and I certainly care for you. I daresay any number of married couples don’t have that between them. We could go on as we always have. Why, nothing needs to change at all.”
“Come now, Martin—everything has changed.”
“Nonsense. I refuse to accept that,” he said in a firm manner. “However, I will let the matter rest for now.”
“Good.”
She had no desire to discuss Martin’s ridiculous proposal although it would not have been quite so absurd a few weeks ago. If he’d asked her to be his wife before she’d left London, she probably would have accepted. Apparently this was something else love did to you. Once having tasted it, nothing else would suffice.
“Regarding Saunders.” Martin’s brow furrowed. “I hope your sensible nature and intelligence has not been dimmed by emotion.”
She bristled. “I assure you it has not.”
“You did not trust him when you left London.”
“And now I do,” she said firmly. “He has proven himself most trustworthy.”
“And yet you have not found your cousin.”
“No, but I am certain we will. Mr. Saunders is making every effort, but as I said, it is proving more difficult than we had hoped.” She paused. “In addition, he has acknowledged his role in the Lady Travelers Society and has given me his word that he will set everything to rights.” Or rather she was confident that he would, but Martin didn’t need to know that.
“And you believe him?”
“Yes.” She raised her chin. “I do.”
“Well, as I am not in love with him, I do not. And I assure you, should I discover any proof as to his nefarious activities, I shall contact Inspector Cooper at once.”
“I would expect you to do no less.” She paused to find the right words. “And I think you’re right—you do need a wife.”
“Excellent.” He beamed.
“But that will not be me.” She shook her head. “We shall put finding you a suitable wife on our schedule when we return.”
He considered her hopefully. “Then you will continue to be in my employ?”
“Only for as long as it takes to find my replacement.”
“I see.” He grimaced. “I’ve mucked this up terribly, haven’t I?”
“I think we have both made errors in judgment.”
Resignation washed across his face. “Mine in not seeing what was right in front of me.”
The oddest sense of regret twisted her heart. He really was a dear man.
“At least we have a ball to look forward to.” He smiled ruefully. “I haven’t been to a ball in years.”
“I know,” she said in a brusque manner. “You think such things are silly and frivolous.”
He chuckled. “Only because you think they are.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “Have I really been that adamant about everything?”
“Yes. Always.”
“Well, I daresay one can be efficient without being unyielding.” She sighed. “I shall work on that, too.”
“Too?”
“Martin.” She took his arm and steered him toward the stairs. “This trip has been a journey of revelation for me. Someday, I shall tell you all about it.”
“Because we will always be friends?”
“Of course.”
“You didn’t say what your error in judgment was.”
“Quite simply, I have never doubted that I was always right about everything, that there was no correct point of view other than my own.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “I have now come to the realization that in that, I was terribly, horribly wrong.”