She excused herself after dinner, pleading weariness, which was not entirely untrue. Once more, she was forced to sleep in the same frilly nightwear she’d worn since her arrival while Suzette again took her clothes to be cleaned. While she wasn’t used to such luxury, the silken feel of the garment against her skin was delightful. The thought crossed her mind that she might wish to pamper herself and indulge in something similar when she returned home. And indulge in a mattress that was as welcoming as this one. Silly musings of course, no doubt attributable to this city and this house.

India had awoken this morning with renewed determination. She had again slept later than usual but woke earlier than the past two mornings, intending to join the rest of the household downstairs for breakfast. She’d surrendered to Suzette’s insistence on helping her dress and arranging her hair—even if the end result was decidedly more French than she would have preferred with her usual knot higher on her head and annoying tendrils of curls fringing her face. Suzette had declared it quite fetching, and India had wished to escape more than she’d wished to argue.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, entering the dining room. His lordship wasn’t present, no doubt this was entirely too early for him, but Derek and the Greers were engaged in animated conversation. Derek and the professor both stood at her arrival.

“Good morning, my dear.” Professor Greer smiled. “You look lovely today.”

“You do indeed, India.” Estelle nodded with enthusiasm. “Paris obviously agrees with you.”

“I wouldn’t wager on that.” Derek studied her curiously. “Is there something different about you today?”

“Nothing I can think of.” India resisted the urge to pat her hair back into its usual place. Her glance strayed to the sideboard. “Is that an English breakfast?”

“With a few French pastries thrown in for good measure.” Delight sounded in Estelle’s voice. “His lordship apparently appreciates the benefit of both French and English offerings at breakfast. Frederick and I think it’s a custom we might well adopt ourselves when we return home.”

“Lord Brookings has always believed in taking the best of both cultures,” Derek added. “There’s a specially blended coffee, as well.”

“How very...worldly of him.” India gestured to the others to take their seats, then hurried to the sideboard. It was a breakfast to rival even the heartiest offering to be found in England: eggs cooked three different ways, sausages, an assortment of cheeses, fish and fruit, as well as croissants and several other types of pastries. For a fleeting moment, she envied those whose wealth allowed them to indulge this way every morning. She filled her plate and took a seat at the table.

“Derek,” she began, “as much as I am eager to return to our search today, I’m afraid there will be an unavoidable delay.”

His brow rose. “A delay?”

She nodded. “I cannot continue to wear the same clothes day after day. As everyone has assured me my trunk must be here somewhere, I intend to take my maid and go through every room in this house until I find it.” India pulled apart a croissant and popped a bite in her mouth.

Derek and the professor traded glances.

“I do hope you intend to ask Lord Brookings before you go barging about his house, India,” Estelle said.

“I have every intention of doing so, but thank you for pointing that out to me.” India stabbed a piece of sausage. The sausages were particularly good.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, my dear,” the professor began, then glanced at Derek, who nodded in an encouraging manner. “But I was unaware your trunk was missing until this morning.”

Perhaps Heloise’s cook could learn to make French pastries.

“Frederick and Estelle had already left for the day when you awoke yesterday,” Derek said.

“Thank you for your concern, Professor,” India said and took a bite of eggs cooked with mushrooms and herbs. It was all she could do not to moan with delight.

“It’s more than concern really.” The professor cleared his throat. “I very much fear I am responsible.”

India froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Oh?”

“If I recall correctly, when I claimed our luggage the other night,” Professor Greer began, “it seemed more than sufficient for four people. There were a number of valises—I’m not sure exactly how many—and three trunks.”

“One of which was mine,” Derek said.

Estelle winced. “The others were ours.”

“I do apologize, but I had no idea we were missing your baggage.” Professor Greer shook his head. “I certainly would have said something at the time if I had realized we were one trunk short.”

“So my trunk is not in the house,” India said slowly.

“Apparently not.” Derek considered her with the same look one might give an unexploded bomb that could detonate at any moment. “However, the instant the professor informed me this morning, I personally returned to the station to see if your trunk was there with other lost bags.”

“And?” She held her breath.

“And...it wasn’t,” Derek said reluctantly. “It’s entirely possible it was somehow misdirected, and instead of coming to Paris it went off on its own travels.”

She set the fork down. “Where?”

Derek hesitated. “That does seem to be the question.”

She drew a deep breath and struggled to stay calm. “And do you have an answer?”

“Not yet.” Derek grimaced. “But I assure you, I am doing everything possible to recover your trunk. Val is lending his assistance, as well. I have no doubt it will turn up.” He paused. “Eventually.”

“Eventually?” She could barely choke out the word. “Eventually?”

“Sooner or later,” he said weakly.

“Yes, I know what eventually means,” she said sharply, her voice rising in spite of her best efforts.

“These things happen when one travels, my dear.” Estelle reached over and patted her hand. “I have never traveled myself, of course, but I understand this does happen on occasion. Why, one of the brochures from the Lady Travelers Society deals with this very subject and offers excellent advice on how to manage without one’s own things until one’s luggage is recovered.”

India had never experienced panic before, but what was surely panic rose within her now. “You belong to the Lady Travelers Society?”

“Oh my, yes.” Estelle dimpled. “I have from very nearly the beginning.”

And wasn’t that a revelation? Still, it scarcely mattered at the moment. Not when her stomach was twisting, and she could barely drag air into her lungs. Her vision narrowed, and the oddest black dots clouded the edge of her sight.

“If you will excuse me.” India got to her feet and braced her hands on the table, her knees unsteady as if they might fail her at any moment. Dear Lord, was this what it felt like to faint? She was not the type of woman who fainted. Indeed, she’d always had a certain contempt for women who fainted to avoid a pressing problem. In that, she might have been too harsh.

“Are you all right?” Derek jumped to his feet and circled the table toward her.

The professor frowned with alarm as he, too, stood. “You look extraordinarily pale.”

“No, I’m fine.” She pulled in a deep breath, then another.

“Are you sure?” Derek was beside her now, concern in his voice and his eyes. As well as a touch of what might well be guilt. “You don’t look well.”

Indeed, he should feel guilty. He was the one who had seen to the luggage at the beginning of their journey.

“No, really, I’m quite all right.” She straightened, her momentary distress swept aside by anger. Which would serve no one well. She needed to take her leave, at once, before she said something that would only make matters worse. “I think I shall retire to my room and consider all this.” She mustered a weak smile. “Thank you for your concern.” She quickly took her leave.

With every step, her ire eased. If one looked at this in a rational, sensible way, it probably wasn’t Derek’s fault, not completely. Oh certainly, he was responsible for the luggage, but as for the rest of it... It was simply easier to direct her fury at him than to place the blame where it belonged—squarely at her feet. But it had seemed such a clever idea at the time.

Martin had gone on and on about the dangers of travel. About thieves and pickpockets in cities like Paris. About the threats to women traveling even with companions. About how one could be knocked over the head and lose everything. It therefore didn’t seem at all wise to carry her funds in her traveling valise or on her person. Why, in her books of detection and mystery, where valuables were secreted in hidden places, no one ever found them until the final chapter. What could be safer than putting the bulk of her traveling funds in a hidden compartment in her trunk?

It had never been mentioned that the trunk itself could be lost!

She reached her room, closed the door behind her and collapsed against it. Good Lord, what was she going to do? She and Derek had agreed from the beginning that they would each pay their own expenses. The only money she had at the moment was what Martin had given her for telegraphs, and that would not last. At least as long as they remained in Paris, she did not have to pay for a hotel room. But when they left...she shuddered at the thought. She could not under any circumstances take money from Derek. That would be the same as taking it from ladies like Heloise herself.

She pushed away from the door and paced the room. There were few options. She could use what little money she had to return to England and abandon her search for Heloise—praying her cousin would at some point realize she had failed in her correspondence and write to her. Of course, that was assuming Heloise was indeed fine. It was also dependent upon prayer, and India was not confident in divine intervention. Surely God had other things to concern himself with than lost cousins and lost luggage. Besides, he’d never seemed to listen to her before.