style="font-size:15px;"> “Don’t be ridiculous.”
On occasion Martin had the most absurd idea that she was the kind of woman men considered attractive, but then he had a generous soul. Aside from various meetings and lectures, he did not often venture into society and, other than his housekeeping staff and his cook, India was the only woman in his life.
India was under no illusions as to her appearance. Her features were regular, her form average, tending toward full, her hair an unremarkable brown. Admittedly, her eyes were a lovely shade of green, but beyond that, there was nothing to commend her appearance one way or the other. She had accepted this fact of life as a child, and even Martin’s overly generous nature did not change that. She was, however, intelligent and sensible and well organized, far more important attributes than mere appearance—especially if one was not wealthy and needed to make one’s way in the world.
“I wasn’t being ridiculous. I am nothing if not observant, and it is my observation that the man was definitely flirting with you. Or at least attempting to flirt with you.”
“If that was Inspector Cooper’s attempt at the art of flirtation, he obviously needs practice.” Not that India had any practical experience to base her opinion on. Still, one would think flirtation would be more effective if it was at least noticeable. “I would imagine if a gentleman was taken with a woman he would not belittle her legitimate concerns by accusing her of making a mountain out of a molehill or suggesting female emotions had somehow addled her brain.”
He chuckled. “Yes, well I can see where that would not serve his cause.”
“Again, I do not believe he has a cause as you put it.” As intelligent as Martin was, he truly did not understand the ways of the world. “Now, as I was saying, I think there is indeed a male mastermind hiding behind the facade of these widows.”
“A mastermind?” His brow shot upward. “Have you been reading novels of mystery again?”
“I have no need for a fictional mystery when the question of Heloise’s whereabouts is unanswered,” she said, firmly evading the subject. Martin took a great deal of perverse pleasure in teasing her about her reading habits, which tended toward stories of mystery and detection. It was her one real vice, the one silly indulgence she allowed herself. She had devoured A Study in Scarlet and was hoping another book about Sherlock Holmes would soon be forthcoming. “And mastermind seems the most appropriate term. It was apparent to me that these ladies are no more than a false front to hide the machinations of a Mr. Derek Saunders.”
“And you have jumped to this conclusion because?”
“I’m not jumping to anything. I have calmly and intelligently reached this decision based on my observations. The man is obviously a rogue and a scoundrel.” Why, no true gentleman looked quite that devil-may-care. The spark in his blue eyes, the set of his chin—there was a definite air about the man that spoke of indiscretion and recklessness and...trouble. “While the ladies seem quite pleasant and very sweet, in spite of the experience of their late husbands, I don’t think Lady Blodgett or her friends have so much as a vague idea what they’re doing when it comes to the arrangement of foreign travel. They are, however, trusting and naive. You can tell that just by looking at them. I fear they are no more than blissfully unaware puppets being manipulated by a master puppeteer.” She pressed her lips together. “Why, he wouldn’t even allow them to say what they wished. No doubt for fear they would reveal everything.”
Martin frowned. “You met him?”
“I most certainly did,” she huffed. “He’s the kind of man who thinks he can get whatever he wants through charm alone.”
“So he was charming, was he?”
“In his eyes only.” Although one could possibly see how a woman less susceptible than herself could be taken in by blue eyes set in a handsome face, dark unruly hair and broad shoulders. “I found him annoying.”
“I see.”
“However...” It was the only point in his favor. “Before I confronted him, I overheard him saying he had spoken to investigators about finding Heloise.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“Very little. He only did that much because of the threat in my letters to further involve the authorities. Unfortunately, such an investigation will cost a great deal.”
“I see.” Martin paused. “Then he—they—were of no real help?”
“Well, not yet. He has decided to find Heloise himself, although I doubt he has the skills to do so.”
“You must be pleased by that.”
“Yes, well...” She wasn’t quite sure how to tell him Mr. Saunders would not be traveling alone.
“You are being remarkably reticent to reveal anything of substance, which is not at all like you.” Martin considered her thoughtfully. “It leads me to believe you have something you don’t wish to tell me. As you have never been reluctant to confide in me in the past, I can only surmise this is significant.”
“And you won’t like it.”
“Then perhaps you should tell me and get it over with.”
“Probably.” India braced herself. “When Mr. Saunders sets out from London to follow in Heloise’s footsteps, I shall accompany him.”
“You what?”
“I don’t trust his abilities—or willingness—to find Heloise on his own. I intend to make sure he does whatever is necessary,” she added. “In addition, by watching his every move I may be able to uncover proof of his wrongdoing and thereby save other women just like Heloise. The man belongs in prison. I am certain he is behind this Lady Travelers Society that I fear has no real substance and only exists to separate unsuspecting older women from their money.”
Martin stared at her for a long, silent moment.
“There, now you know everything.” Without thinking, she twisted her hands together in a nervous manner. “I do wish you would say something.”
“How am I to get along without you?”
Any apprehension she’d had about revealing her plans vanished with his words. “Goodness, Martin, you’re a grown man. I’m certain you can manage by yourself.”
His eyes widened. “I don’t know that I can manage at all if you abandon me.”
“I am not abandoning you.” This was not the response she’d expected although she probably should have. “You have a houseful of servants to see to your needs. Your cook will make certain you are fed, your housekeeper will attempt to keep your clutter confined to your library and your butler will keep the rest of the world at bay.”
“But...but...” The man stared as if she were the worst sort of traitor. “Who will handle my correspondence and see to my schedule and organize my notes? You do realize I am trying to put together my reference of ancient Roman desert trade routes so that it may be published soon.”
“Of course I realize that.” What she hadn’t realized was that he was quite so helpless. “You have been putting together that book since before I came to work for
