Her friends exchanged resigned looks.
“And what investigative skills do you have, Mr. Saunders?” Miss Prendergast crossed her arms over her chest. “What qualifies you for this kind of undertaking?”
“Admittedly, I have no investigative skills as such.” Derek adopted a businesslike manner. “However, I am well educated, I have traveled extensively on the continent, I speak three languages and I am more than capable of following the trail of a woman who has somehow become misplaced.”
“You are the one who misplaced her!”
“That, Miss Prendergast, is a question of some debate,” he said sharply.
Her eyes widened in outrage. “Do you deny it then?”
“We do not escort our members on their journeys—we do not take them by the hand and accompany them. Therefore, we cannot be held responsible if they choose to wander off course.” As much as his argument did have a nice, rational ring to it, given what he’d seen of the unconfirmed arrangements his great-aunt and the other ladies had made for Lady Heloise, he was fairly certain the authorities might see the situation differently.
“I daresay the police might disagree as to your responsibility for your members.” Her eyes narrowed. “As would the newspapers.”
“That would be awkward,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore murmured.
“Scandal always is, dear.” Aunt Guinevere grimaced.
“I contend that the legal responsibility for your missing cousin is uncertain.” Derek chose his words with care. “But I will concede to a possible moral obligation.”
“Possible?” She snorted in disdain.
“And I will not allow the reputation of this organization to be put at risk.” He stood, braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward, his gaze locked on hers. “We do our best at the Lady Travelers Society and Assistance Agency to serve our members with expert aid and guidance in the planning and implementation of itineraries in their quest to fulfill their dreams of adventure through travel.” He couldn’t believe he had just said that, and without wincing.
Mrs. Higginbotham snickered, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore choked and Aunt Guinevere stared.
“Be that as it may, Mr. Saunders.” Miss Prendergast stood, her angry gaze never slipping from his. “My cousin is not the type of woman to fail in her correspondence when she knows such a failure would cause a great deal of alarm.” Concern flashed through Miss Prendergast’s eyes so quickly he might have been mistaken. Obviously this was not a woman who allowed her emotions to show. “Nor is she the type of woman to wander off her predetermined course. Therefore, something has happened to her.” She leaned closer, her manner mirroring his. “I will not rest until I am assured of her safety. Failing that, I will make certain those responsible pay for shirking their obligations, moral or otherwise.”
For a long moment he stared at her, a voice in the back of his head warning him not to be the first one to look away. Backing down from Miss India Prendergast would be a mistake that could never be corrected.
Aunt Guinevere cleared her throat. “When do you intend to leave, Derek?”
“As soon as possible. I will need a day to make certain my affairs are in order, but I anticipate leaving no later than the day after tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” Miss Prendergast’s eyes flashed. “That will give me time to arrange for a leave of absence from my position.”
Her position? Was she a governess? Or a teacher of some sort? Surely not. She didn’t strike him as having the temperament needed to be patient with children. Although an unruly child would surely meet his match in Miss Prendergast.
“And what kind of position would that be, Miss Prendergast?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore asked brightly.
At last Miss Prendergast pulled her gaze from his, and the most ridiculous sense of triumph and relief washed through him.
“I hold the position of secretarial assistant to Sir Martin Luckthorne,” she said, retaking her seat. “He understands my concern about my cousin and will grant me the time required to find her.”
“The time required?” Derek stared. At once he realized her intentions. “Surely I misunderstand what you are saying.”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” she said coolly. “I daresay there are any number of things you misunderstand. You don’t strike me as being particularly perceptive.”
Mrs. Higginbotham snorted.
Any sense of triumph he might have had vanished under the specter of traveling with this epitome of outrage and indignation. “I have no intention of allowing you to accompany me.”
“Allowing me?” Her brow arched upward in disdain. “I was not asking your permission. I will not be left behind.”
“Regardless, I will not be taking you with me,” he said firmly. The last thing he needed was this termagant dogging his every move.
“Very well then.” She shrugged. “I shall simply follow you. Do not underestimate my resolve, Mr. Saunders. Everywhere you go, I will go, as well. I shall be no more than one step behind you until you find my cousin.”
Bloody hell. This was a disaster in the making. If anything should happen to her, the blame would be laid squarely at his feet for not allowing her the protection of his company. Regardless, he had no desire to spend more time than was absolutely necessary with this woman. The moment she’d opened her mouth, he’d known the best thing about searching for Lady Heloise was that it would take him far away from her cousin.
“There is not one legitimate reason why I should permit you to come with me.”
“I believe I just gave you one.” She smirked. “However, I can give you another. I have her letters detailing where she has been as well as her plans.”
“If I remember correctly, according to her itinerary, she could be in Switzerland by now. Unless she decided Switzerland was not to her liking,” Mrs. Higginbotham said thoughtfully, “and set off for Greece.”
“Oh, I think I would much prefer Greece to Switzerland.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore nodded eagerly. “Greece sounds so warm and sunny, and Switzerland brings to mind snow and mountain goats. Although I imagine at this time of year Switzerland might be quite pleasant whereas Greece might be too warm. Perhaps you should start there?”
Derek stared in confusion. “Greece or Switzerland?”
“I think not.” Miss Prendergast’s look clearly said she thought he was an idiot. “Her last letter was from France.”
“My inclination is to retrace her steps in an effort to determine where she might be now.” Derek made no attempt to hide the resignation in his voice; it was obvious there would be no good way to rid himself of Miss Prendergast.
Miss Prendergast gave him a grudging glance of agreement. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Being of like minds is a superb way to begin,” Aunt Guinevere said. “Now then, Miss Prendergast, did
