did seem the best part of her. Oh, she was not unattractive, but neither was she especially pretty. Not a woman one would notice on the street one way or another. In that she and India were similar, and the tiniest pang of regret stabbed India at her deception. Still, it couldn’t be helped. India returned her smile. The woman appeared close in age to India, as well, something else they had in common. At not quite thirty it was clear they were the youngest in the room. “Do you plan to travel then?”
India hesitated. “My plans are uncertain at the moment.”
“Oh.” The blonde drew her brows together. “Most of our members join precisely because they wish to plan their future travel.”
“I do wish to plan my future travel,” India lied. “I’m simply not sure exactly when the future might arrive.”
“That’s something else then, isn’t it?” The blonde nodded in sympathy. “I understand completely. Some of us do not have the means to wander the world simply because we wish to do so.” A determined note sounded in her voice. “However, making preparations for the future is exactly why the Lady Travelers Society was started.”
“By experienced travelers I assume?” India asked although she knew full well who the alleged founders of the organization were.
“Oh my, yes.” Pride glowed in the other woman’s eyes. “Surely you’ve heard of Sir Charles Blodgett?”
“I’m not certain...”
“He was quite famous for his travels and expeditions and explorations. One of the premier members of the Explorers Club itself. Lady Blodgett lost him ten years ago now I think.”
India nodded, not entirely sure if Sir Blodgett had died or had simply been lost in the jungles of some hot, horrid, uncivilized country.
“Let me think, where was I?” The woman’s brow furrowed. “Oh yes, I was telling you about the founders of the society—Lady Guinevere Blodgett and her dearest friends, Mrs. Persephone Fitzhew-Wellmore and Mrs. Ophelia Higginbotham. Well, more like sisters really than friends. They were all married to men of adventure and travel, although Sir Charles was the most famous of the lot. The poor dears are all widows now, but they do indeed know a great deal about the rigors of travel and the adventures to be found on a tramp steamer traversing the globe or sailing the Nile in a felucca or—”
“So Lady Blodgett and her friends are the ones arranging tours and travel for members?” India interrupted, trying to hide her impatience.
“That would stand to reason, wouldn’t it? They are all so knowledgeable.” The woman paused. “Although I must confess, I’m not well versed in the running of the society, even though I did join shortly after it was formed. I only began to lend my assistance here last week—as a favor to Mrs. Higginbotham and the others—until someone is hired to manage the organization. The society has grown far faster than anyone ever expected.”
“The society is relatively new, isn’t it?” Yet another question India already had the answer to, but one never knew what further information one might uncover by pretending to be less informed than one was.
“It began about eight months ago and was sorely needed if you ask me.” The woman’s lips pressed together in a firm line. “In this day and age there is no reason why a woman cannot travel the world if she so desires.”
“No reason except...finances.” India studied the other woman closely.
“There is that, of course. And fear of the unknown I suppose.” She shook her head. “It’s rather sad when we don’t pursue our heart’s desire because we’re afraid that it might not be as wonderful as we had hoped.”
India tried not to stare, but it was obvious this woman was the worst sort of unrealistic dreamer. “About the charges? For membership?”
“Yes, of course. One pound for a month-to-month membership or ten for a full year membership.”
“And that provides?”
“The lectures on travel—lectures are usually once a week—along with the meetings with like-minded women such as yourself. However, the majority of the monthly dues is set aside to provide future payment for arranging the details of a travel itinerary.”
“So when I decide to actually travel—” India chose her words with care “—I have already paid for any charges for the arrangement of transportation, hotels, tour guides, that sort of thing?”
“For the most part, although I believe there is also another, relatively insignificant fee. To pay for additional expenses incurred in the arranging of itineraries. To be expected, of course.” The woman picked up a printed form from a stack of papers. “Now then, if you would fill this out, you may bring it, along with payment, if you decide to return. There is no charge for your first lecture.”
“How very generous.” Or clever.
“Not at all,” the blonde said, rising to her feet and handing India the paper. “You can’t fail to delight in Lady Blodgett’s tales and sage words. If you have even the tiniest flicker of yearning for the excitement of travel, Lady Blodgett will fan it to a full blaze.” She smiled. “I should introduce myself. I’m Miss Honeywell and I have no doubt you’ll be joining us.”
“I am Miss Prendergast—” India nodded curtly “—and I suspect you’re right.” Again that annoying sense of guilt stabbed her. She simply wasn’t used to deception. “How many members do you have?”
“We’re up to more than ninety, I believe.”
“That’s most impressive.”
“It is indeed. The society first met in Lady Blodgett’s parlor, but now there are entirely too many of us for that. Because of the ladies’ husbands’ long association with the Explorers Club, the society was allocated an office here and permitted to use this room for meetings and lectures three days a week.”
“How very generous.”
The other woman scoffed. “They couldn’t very well turn down the request of the widow of Sir Charles Blodgett.”
“I would think not.” India forced a note of indignation to her voice. Not at all difficult as indignant was the very least of her feelings. If the society had been more forthright and responsive to India’s inquiries about Heloise in the first place, she never would have suspected the questionable nature of the organization. Nor would she have begun asking questions, the answers to which were less than satisfactory. “Do tell me about Lady Blodgett and the others. They sound lovely.”
“Well, I have known Mrs. Higginbotham for a number of years. She and the others knew my...”
Either Miss Honeywell was the most sincere woman India had ever met or she was an accomplished actress. The more the blonde waxed on about the virtuous Lady Blodgett and her cohorts, the more India suspected Miss Honeywell was a total innocent. And India had always trusted her ability to assess character.
If the three ladies were as guiltless as they seemed to Miss Honeywell, perhaps there was indeed a man behind the scenes manipulating the old dears like a master puppeteer. That was the speculation of Inspector Cooper of Scotland Yard. He had spoken to India at the request of Sir Martin. But as dashing as he was with his slightly unkempt fair hair and his air of solid authority, he was most annoying
