“Yes?”

“I might have been mistaken.” She smiled up at him.

“Might have been?” He grinned and pulled her closer. “Say it, India.”

“Very well.” She couldn’t help but laugh. What Derek had done for her, all this was just so wonderfully...perfect. “I may have been, possibly—”

His brow arched.

“Probably...” She sighed. “I was wrong. Without question, undoubtedly, undeniably wrong.”

“Why, Miss Prendergast.” He lowered his head down, and she raised her lips to meet his. “You say the most alluring things.”

“Miss Prendergast!” An outraged voice sounded from across the room. “What is the meaning of this?”


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.”