“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.”


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


For the first-time lady traveler, the venture will be filled with a number of never before experienced delights. A diary for recording sights and impressions is highly recommended. Regardless of age, one can never truly count on one’s remembrances as one’s memories fade with every new adventure.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide


“HAVE YOU SEEN India yet?” Derek adjusted his cuffs for perhaps the hundredth time. Where was the blasted woman?

“One doesn’t appear promptly at one’s first ball.” Mother sipped a glass of champagne, her satisfied gaze skimming over the impressively full ballroom. “One waits to make an entrance.”

Anyone of importance or anyone she deemed interesting, as well as a fair number of Her Majesty’s citizens in Paris for the exposition, had been invited. Mother had mentioned more than once that there had been few refusals to the invitation. But then who would turn down an invitation to join the Marquess of Brookings and the Marquess and Marchioness of Westvale?

Impatience pulled his brows together. “Did you tell her that?”

“I might have mentioned it. Or perhaps I told Mrs. Greer. Delightful woman and well aware of how to do things like this correctly.” She paused. “Did you know that Professor Greer is escorting both his wife and India tonight?”

“I did.” He smiled reluctantly. “Your doing no doubt.”

“I understood Sir Martin wished to escort India, but as you had to join the rest of the family in greeting our guests, I thought it best if she accompanied the Greers. Estelle, dear woman, agreed with me.”

“She doesn’t like Sir Martin?”

“She feels about him as I do. He seems quite acceptable if a bit helpless, but then most men are.”

“I had no idea.” He chuckled.

“And my point is made.” She smiled and waved at a guest. It seemed half of London society was here, as well as all the available flowers in Paris. There was scarcely a single spot in the ballroom that didn’t host an urn of blossoms or an overflowing vase of blooms. Mother had certain standards when it came to her social events. “This is not a competition, you know.”