The Lady Travelers Guide To Scoundrels And Other Gentlemen. Victoria AlexanderЧитать онлайн книгу.

       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?”