she would wager her yearly salary that he would be no further along when she returned, whether that was in a week or ten years.
“But...” His brow furrowed; then his expression brightened. The tiniest hint of triumph shone in his eyes. “You accompanying this man—this mastermind—would be shockingly improper. I can’t believe you’re considering such a thing. And I don’t imagine Lady Heloise would approve.”
“As she is not here, that is a moot point. And I have already had this conversation. I’m not especially worried about my reputation.”
“I am and concerned as well about your safety.” He drummed his fingers on his desk. “I daresay I won’t have a moment’s rest knowing you are off with this...this villain.”
“I’m not sure villain is entirely accurate—”
He ignored her. “Going off to Europe in the company of a man you know nothing about. A man you don’t trust. A man you think is using a trio of elderly ladies to pilfer money from other elderly ladies. Why, you’ve already referred to him not only as a mastermind but as a scoundrel and a rogue, as well.”
“Indeed I did, but—”
“Manipulation and deception are not qualities one usually looks for in a traveling companion.” His jaw set in a determined manner. “I cannot in all good conscience allow you to go off alone with this man.”
“We won’t be alone,” she said quickly, ignoring the fact that—even if he was her employer—Martin had no right to tell her what she could and could not do. “The ladies insisted on chaperones.”
His 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
