eyes narrowed. “How do you know these chaperones are to be trusted?”
“I don’t. Mr. Saunders was not pleased about my demand to go with him, nor was he happy about having chaperones accompany us. It was his great-aunt’s idea.”
“If she is his great-aunt,” he said darkly.
“Given the way they behave around each other, there is no doubt in my mind as to their familial connection. And while I do think Mr. Saunders is clever enough to manipulate elderly ladies, I doubt that he can arrange diabolical chaperones on a moment’s notice.”
“Even so...” His fingers drummed faster, and she knew by the look in his eyes that he was struggling to come up with another reason why she shouldn’t go. “I suspect if I forbid you to go, if I threaten that your position will not be here when you return,” he said in a measured manner, “it will not be enough to dissuade you from this ill-advised course you’ve set.”
“I do appreciate your concern, but no, it won’t.”
“Then there’s nothing else to do. To ensure your safety and your honor—” he squared his shoulders “—I shall simply have to come with you.”
For perhaps the first time in eight years, India had absolutely no idea how to respond. Martin had a brilliant—if unfocused—mind, but he was not the type of man one would turn to for protection. While not unattractive, he was a bit over average in height with fair, usually unkempt, hair, a boyish look about him—in spite of his age—and a build kept slender by regular exercise. Regardless, he exuded an absentminded air of scholarly endeavor not physical prowess. Why, India was probably more suited to be a rescuing knight than Martin. Beyond that, the poor dear did not take well to travel. Trains upset his stomach in the manner of mal de mer, and the mere thought of crossing the Channel usually turned his complexion green in anticipation.
“That’s very kind of you, but it’s not necessary.”
“Oh, I think it is.”
“Martin,” she said gently, “if you are truly concerned as to my reputation, surely you can see that traveling with two single men—even with chaperones—would make this appear much more shocking.” Indeed, it was a mark of her concern that she was willing to bend propriety this far in the first place. “But I am grateful for the offer.”
“I am not happy about this, India.”
“I’m not especially happy about it myself but...” She shrugged. “I do not trust Mr. Saunders.”
“Perhaps,” he said slowly. “If I paid for the investigation—”
“I cannot permit that, and you know it.” She thought for a moment. “But there is something I will allow you to do for me.”
“I am at your service. Always.”
Usually, Martin’s droll comments were nothing more than mildly amusing, but on occasion, she had wondered if there was more to them than he let on. This was one of those moments. Not that she had time for sentimental speculation.
“I will meet the chaperones on the day after tomorrow, and we leave the day after that. I believe it would be wise to have more information about Mr. Saunders than I currently have.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I will contact an investigator I know, very discreet and very efficient.” He paused, a look of resignation on his face. “You will be careful?”
She nodded. “I will.”
“I expect regular correspondence from you apprising me as to your progress.”
She nodded. “I shall do my utmost.”
“No, on further consideration...” He tapped his fingers on the desk thoughtfully. “I know you will not allow me to finance this endeavor—”
“I have savings as my salary is more than sufficient.”
“Given all your responsibilities, that is debatable. Regardless, as mere correspondence will take entirely too long to reassure me as to your safety, I shall provide you with funds so that you may telegraph me as to your whereabouts and progress.”
“Goodness, I really don’t think that’s—”
“Every third day will do.” She started to protest, but he held up a hand to forestall her. “I will not take no for an answer on this, India.”
“You don’t think every three days is excessive?”
“Probably, but with any luck you will not be gone long.” Resignation sounded in his voice. “I will expect you to telegraph me as well if there’s anything you need—including funds.”
“I doubt that will be necessary, but thank you.” She paused. “And thank you for your friendship as well. I value it, Martin.”
“As I value yours.” He stared at her for a moment as if there was something more he wished to say. At last he nodded. “That’s it then. We should get back to work. What is on our schedule for today?”
She picked up her notebook from its usual spot—precisely in the upper-right corner of his desk. “You wished to order supplies for the experiment you spoke of yesterday and we need to respond to the invitation from the Society of...”
While he could occasionally be somewhat perplexing, India was under no illusions about Martin. He was indeed her friend, and if he wished for more than friendship between them, well, he’d had eight years to do something about that. Not that she would welcome any overtures of a romantic nature. Certainly not from Martin. At this point in her life, India had no particular interest in romance. Any silly dreams she might have had as a girl were abandoned years ago when she’d realized dashing heroes were plentiful between the pages of books but rather lacking in real life. Besides, heroes did not ride to the rescue of heroines who were ordinary in appearance, sensible in nature and had little financial worth.
Without warning, flashing blue eyes and a wicked grin jumped to mind. She ignored it.
No, she had no interest in romance with Martin. Or anyone else.
When choosing traveling companions, a lady traveler should be diligent in assessing compatibility in temperament, habit and nature. Nothing destroys the joy of a trip abroad faster than being in the company of a person one cannot abide. The rigors of travel have been known to turn mild annoyance into virulent loathing, even among the very best of friends.
—The Lady Travelers Society Guide
“I HAVE NO idea where Derek is.” Lady Blodgett refilled India’s teacup and smiled pleasantly. “But I’m certain he’ll be here at any moment.”
“No doubt,” India murmured. She resisted the need to scream in frustration and instead forced a smile of her own.
Mr. Saunders was late by a quarter of an hour thus far. It was not an auspicious beginning. Not that she’d expected promptness from him. Why, one could tell from just looking at the man he was not the sort to pay attention to the rules that governed the lives of everyone else in the world. One would think when one’s great-aunt invited one to her home promptly at four o’clock, one would arrive promptly at four o’clock. Aside from meeting the chaperones Lady Blodgett had promised, they had a great deal to discuss. Plans needed to be made.
“I would imagine he’s making arrangements.” Mrs. Greer piled a few more biscuits on her already-heaping plate. India wasn’t sure if the woman couldn’t make up her mind which of the delightful offerings to take or if she feared this was her last chance to ever have a biscuit again.
“As well he should,” Professor Greer said under his breath, reaching for another biscuit, although he had already emptied and refilled his plate at least once.
Lady Blodgett