“Yes,” she said without thinking, but it was true. In spite of everything, it had been wonderful.

“I must admit I am a wee bit jealous. I believe I shall have to go to Paris myself soon. I have always wanted to, you know.”

“Heloise.” India inhaled a calming breath. “Why did you arrange all this to make me think you were traveling when you say you never left England?”

“Yes, well.” Heloise winced. “That is a bit awkward.”

“That is the awkward part?” India snorted. “I can hardly wait to hear this.”

“Sarcasm, India.” Heloise cast her a chastising look.

“Go on.”

“Very well.” Heloise folded her hands in her lap. “Some thirty-four years ago, when I was seventeen, I fell madly, passionately in love with a young man only a few years older than I. He was tall and dashing with dark hair and blue eyes. He had the most wonderful laugh and the wickedest smile I’d ever seen, as if he could see through to my very soul and my most secret desires.” She smiled with the memory. “You’re so sensible, I’m sure you can’t imagine how easy it would be to fall in love with a man like that.”

“On the contrary, Heloise,” India said slowly. “I can understand it all too well.”

“He was the son of a merchant. One of the reasons my father disapproved and forbid me to see him. I was far too timid to defy my father, which, in hindsight, was the greatest mistake of my life.” She hesitated, no doubt lost in memories and regret.

“And,” India said gently.

“And, a few months before I began my travels—”

“Your grand deception.”

Heloise ignored her. “Quite by happenstance, I met him again. His hair is more gray than dark now and he is not as slender as he once was, but his eyes still sparkle with laughter and he still looks at me as if I were the loveliest, most wonderful woman in the world. He is a widow now, childless and quite wealthy.”

At some point during Heloise’s discourse, India’s mouth had dropped open, and she now made a concerted effort to close it.

“We began seeing each other, and he wishes to marry me. But I felt—as it had been a very long time and we have both changed—that it would be wiser to become reacquainted with one another before taking such an irrevocable step. So, we have been at his country house for the last few months.” Denker was right—she’d never looked happier.

“Why didn’t you just tell me all of this? Why make me think you had left the country?”

“Because I knew you would disapprove,” she said simply. “I didn’t want to hear all the sensible, rational reasons why a man and woman—both past their fiftieth year—could not be together if they so desired. I especially did not want to be lectured about impropriety nor did I wish to be convinced to abandon what you would see as a foolish endeavor.” She fixed India with a firm eye. “It wasn’t. James and I intend to marry as soon as possible. But aside from everything else, I did not want you to think less of me. I did not want you to be disappointed.”

India stared for a long moment. Heloise was no older than Derek’s mother, who was now on her third husband and every bit as in love with him as she had been with her first. India had never thought of Heloise as being the sort of woman who had romantic dreams and desires. Apparently in that she was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. “You shouldn’t have had to go to all this trouble, spend all that money. You should have been able to tell me.”

“My dear girl, you are who, for the most part, I raised you to be.” She hesitated. “As for the money, well, I haven’t been entirely forthright with you about our finances, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a great deal of money, India. Far more than you imagine. I have arranged for it all to be yours one day, even after James and I marry. I have never spent it freely because I have a dreadful fear of being old and penniless and forced to rely on the kindness of relatives so distant they scarcely know my name. Beyond that—” she straightened her shoulders “—I’ve had money my entire life, and it has brought me nothing save a modicum of financial security. I have no particular skills except for my art, an unreliable source of income under the best of circumstances. Furthermore, I allowed my father to run my life—admittedly out of fear of losing my finances and in doing so, lost the love of my life. Aside from you, I am alone.

“When you came into my care, I realized I didn’t like the way I had been brought up. To believe that a girl was of little purpose except to marry well. Because my finances are sound, I never needed courage or strength. I did not want you to become me.”

India considered her cousin. This was a great deal to digest. She chose her words with care. “I was terribly worried about you, which makes it difficult to condone your deceptions—”

Heloise’s expression crumpled.

“But that you found it necessary because of my unyielding, unrelenting, always-right nature...” India met the older woman’s gaze directly. This would have been an entirely different conversation before India went to Paris. “I am so, so sorry.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“My darling girl.” Heloise sniffed back a tear. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“And I do think, given that you concocted an elaborate scheme to make me think you were traveling, you underestimate your skills. It was all rather brilliant.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.” India laughed. “I truly do.” She paused. “I am wondering, though.”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t matter really, nothing more than a point of curiosity but...” She studied her cousin, then smiled in a rueful manner. “How much money do you have?”

Heloise laughed with as much relief as amusement. The thought flashed through India’s mind that Derek was right. This was not his story to tell.

And once again, she’d been wrong.


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


It is not enough to reach one’s destination in a timely manner. The excitement of travel lies as much in the journey as it does the destination. Even the most disastrous of excursions brings unexpected adventure and gladdens the spirit. And we are the better for it.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide


DEREK WAS FAR smarter than India had imagined. Certainly, the man would have to be shrewd to have come up with the Lady Travelers scheme in the first place, but that was only the beginning of the machinations of his clever mind.

He’d been absolutely right in refusing to say anything about what Heloise had done, although India wasn’t entirely sure how much of her story he knew. Still, refusing to reveal the older woman’s secrets had been both wise and gallant. One really couldn’t fault him for that even if, at the time, India had.

She had thought, perhaps, he would immediately follow her to London. It was neither sensible nor rational, given the way they had parted, but then he was more prone to impulse and emotion than she. And the man had declared his love and his intention to marry her, after all.

But he did not appear on the first day after she returned, nor the second. On the third day she wondered if he was coming at all and asked Heloise to make discreet inquiries at the Lady Travelers Society. Heloise dutifully reported that, as far as Lady Blodgett knew, Derek had not yet returned to London. Why on earth not? What was keeping him in Paris? Unless, of course, he simply wished to stay as far away from her as possible. Which was silly. She was more than ready to acknowledge he was right and she was wrong. Again. Admittedly, he had no way of knowing that. By the time a full week had passed, India had to face the awful, obvious truth.

Whatever had happened between them in Paris, whatever feelings they might have had, whatever they might have shared or said was apparently relegated to Paris. Paris is where it had begun and Paris was where it had ended and Paris was where it would remain.

India had never imagined something like this could hurt quite so much. The deepest sort of unrelenting pain ached inside her. Regardless of what she did to keep her mind occupied, it was always there, hovering at the edge of perception, ready to sweep through her over and over again, and crush her heart. Pain made worse by knowing the blame could be squarely laid at her feet. Pity she had no idea what to do about it.

Still, the rest of the world continued without pause as if unaware of, or indifferent to, her utter despair. She met Heloise’s intended—Mr. James Kirby—and they discussed plans for their upcoming nuptials, which the happy couple wanted without delay. India returned to work with Sir Martin but only until a suitable replacement could be found. She began that search at once.

On the eighth day after her return from Paris, India decided enough was more than enough. She had given him a full week. A long, endless week filled with dismay and grief and regret. Something needed to be done, and it was up to her to do it.

If Derek refused to seek her out, she would track him down to the ends of the earth if necessary. She did not intend to grovel but, at the very least, she owed him an apology. A sincere, heartfelt, admission of her error in judgment and an equally earnest request for forgiveness. Whether said apology also included a reinstatement of her feelings was yet to be determined, but she would certainly not rule it out. It was entirely possible Derek no longer shared her feelings, but that was a risk she would have to take.

India Prendergast had never been in love before and, at the moment, found it awkward and unpleasant and agonizing. But as brief as it had been, it had also been quite wonderful, fraught with enchantment and filled with hope and promise. And that alone was worth fighting for.