CHAPTER ONE

When deciding upon an agency to assist in one’s travel preparations, always ask for references from at least three satisfied clients. Without this precautionary step, a lady traveler never knows what might happen and, worse, where it might happen.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

London 1889

It certainly did not look like the type of place where genteel, older ladies were bilked out of their life savings. Nonetheless—India Prendergast narrowed her eyes—it was.

India resisted the urge to tap her foot impatiently. She stood second in queue to reach a table set up near the door of one of the smaller lecture rooms in the grand mansion in Bloomsbury that housed the Explorers Club. A number of women chatted near a table bearing re­freshments positioned along the wall. Several others had taken seats among the rows of chairs facing a lectern. The stout lady in front of her wore a tall beribboned hat entirely inappropriate for her age and did not seem inclined to hurry, even though a lecture on “What No Lady Traveler Should Leave Home Without” was sched­uled to begin shortly. No, the lady ahead of her showed no consideration for the time constraints and chatted blithely with the woman sitting at the table as if there were no one waiting in line behind her.

India wouldn’t be here at all if anyone had responded to her letters demanding information as to the where­abouts of her dear cousin, Lady Heloise Snuggs. In spite of the exotic nature of her name—a cross India had long ago learned to bear—she had no desire for travel and did not find the promise of adventure to be found in for­eign lands the least bit enticing. She didn’t understand why any otherwise sane and sensible woman would want to pursue such foolishness. No, the only thing that had brought her here today was concern verging peril­ously close to abject fear.

It had been nearly six weeks since India had received so much as a brief note from Heloise, and, even given the inefficiency of postal service outside the empire, it was not at all like her. Indeed, until then, India had re­ceived a letter at least twice a week, overflowing with her cousin’s delight at the exploration of those places she’d only read about in books. It had long been Helo­ise’s dream to travel the world. When she’d discovered the existence of the Lady Travelers Society and Assis­tance Agency—far less imposing than anything run by men—it had appeared that dream was now within reach.

The room filled slowly with other ladies, most of whom had obviously passed the age of fifty, just as Heloise had. And, exactly like Heloise, India suspected they all had dreams of exciting exploits in exotic places, no doubt with a handsome, virile stranger by their side. What utter nonsense.

While India had been uneasy about Heloise sallying forth three months ago to discover the world beyond England’s shores, she couldn’t bring herself to express her concerns and dampen her cousin’s enthusiasm. She’d never seen Heloise quite that excited. Nonetheless, anything could happen to a lady traveling alone, even if Heloise was accompanied by her maid—the compe­tent, no-nonsense Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Mar­quette. Perhaps if India had expressed her concerns…

India firmly pushed the thought aside but failed to dismiss the dreadful apprehension that had weighed on her soul in the last few weeks. She was fairly certain Heloise would not have listened to her anyway. Re­gardless, she would never forgive herself if anything happened to the older woman. India was not one for frivolous emotion, but Heloise had claimed a place in India’s heart from very nearly the moment they’d met.

Some twenty years older than India, Heloise was India’s mother’s cousin and the only family India had left in the world. She’d given her a home when India’s parents had died—taking up the responsibilities of rais­ing an eleven-year-old girl. Heloise had helped fund her continued schooling at the prestigious Miss Bicklesham’s Academy for Accomplished Young Ladies, setting aside enough for a respectable dowry for India, should that become necessary. (It hadn’t, which did seem for the best.) Very little of what India had ob­served about men inclined her at all toward chaining herself to one for the rest of her days.

Heloise had come to India’s rescue when she was needed, and India would do no less for her now. Besides, the thought of losing her was entirely too much to bear.

At last, the lady in front of her moved off to take a seat, and India stepped forward.

“How may I help you, miss?” The blonde woman sitting at the table smiled up at her.

“I should like to join the Lady Travelers Society,” India said firmly. It had been the suggestion of her em­ployer, Sir Martin Luckthorne, that the best way to find out the whereabouts of Cousin Heloise might well be to join the society herself.

“How delightful.” The blonde beamed. India’s dis­trust wavered slightly in the wake of the woman’s genuine smile, which 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 in his refusal to understand that Heloise’s disappearance was a matter of grave concern. The man pointed out that her cousin’s lack of commu­nication was no doubt due to the inferior mail services in other countries. He had added, in a vaguely chas­tising manner, that aside from all else, Heloise was an adult, accompanied by another adult, and was more than likely having such a grand time she’d simply forgotten about writing home. Nor would he acknowledge there was anything at all suspicious about the Lady Travelers Society. And, given there had been no complaints about the society, there was nothing the authorities could do. India had certainly complained quite loudly but appar­ently the complaints of one lone woman were insuffi­cient. As he had made his pronouncements with such an amused, condescending gleam in his eye, it was all India could do not to smack the smirk from his face.

“I must introduce you to some of our members.” Miss Honeywell directed India toward a group gathered by the refreshment table. “You will notice that most of them are substantially older than you or I, but you’ll find we have a great deal in common.”

A lifetime of savings, no doubt, and little resistance to the lure of far-off destinations. “I would imagine.”

“Mrs. Vanderkellen.” Miss Honeywell addressed the lady India had stood behind. “Do allow me to present…”

Miss Honeywell introduced her to several more la­dies, all of whom were in the throes of anticipation about today’s lecture. Without exception, those India met were either widows or spinsters. A few minutes later, India and Miss Honeywell took two of the few remaining seats left for the lecture. The room had filled nearly to capacity since India’s arrival. Obviously, the society was doing quite well.

An elderly woman strode to the front of the room with a sprightly step. Two other equally enthusiastic older ladies trailed behind, pausing here and there to greet the women already seated in a charming and gra­cious manner, as if they were all the oldest and very best of friends and not shepherds leading unsuspecting sheep to a financial fleecing.

“Lady Blodgett is the speaker today,” Miss Honey­well said in a quiet voice that nonetheless failed to hide her enthusiasm. “The other ladies are Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and Mrs. Higginbotham. You’ll like them, Miss Prendergast. They are all quite wonderful and extremely nice.”

“I look forward to meeting them,” India said with a touch of feigned eagerness.

Before her arrival, she hadn’t been certain if the wis­est course was to confront those in charge of the so­ciety and demand assistance in finding Heloise or to follow Sir Martin’s advice to bide her time until she could determine where Heloise was. And determine, as well, if this was a legitimate endeavor or a fraudu­lent enterprise designed to siphon money from older women. Which had oddly become nearly as important as recovering her cousin.

Lady Blodgett took her place at the lectern; the other two seated themselves in chairs behind her and off to the right. Regardless of whether or not the ladies’ en­deavor was aboveboard they certainly weren’t the least bit disciplined. Lady Blodgett continued to talk with a woman seated in the front row; the two others on the podium waved to another woman, then exchanged animated comments. Why, the entire room was still filled with feminine chatter. Clearly, with this sort of disorganization, it was entirely possible they weren’t fleecing susceptible females but were simply too scat­tered to keep track of them.

“I suspect members are always going on trips abroad?”

“Not at all,” Miss Honeywell said. “At least not yet. I’m not sure more than one member that I know of has actually traveled beyond England. It takes a great deal of time and preparation to arrange a trip to the Orient or the Grecian isles or the deserts of Egypt.”

“A great deal of time and dues?”

“Well, one does want to be prepared.” Miss Honeywell nodded. “And the ladies’ lectures do precisely that.”

“I see.” And the longer a woman stayed in London paying monthly dues, the richer the coffers of the Lady Travelers Society became. And wasn’t that an interest­ing thought?

India wasn’t sure if it was Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore or Mrs. Higginbotham, but one of them abruptly stood, stepped to Lady Blodgett’s side and spoke quietly in her ear. Lady Blodgett winced and glanced toward the back of the room, then sighed and smiled in a resigned manner. India’s gaze followed hers.

A gentleman with a grim expression on his face and a leather satchel in his hand glared at the older lady. He was admittedly handsome with dark hair and broad shoulders, and appeared exceptionally tall. But then everyone seemed tall to India as she was somewhat shorter than she would have preferred.

“Who is that?” she asked Miss Honeywell.

“Lord Charming.” Miss Honeywell fairly sighed the answer.

There was certainly something about the man, an air of confidence perhaps, or something in the assurance of his stride and the set of his chin that, in spite of his serious expression, did seem to scream charming. “His name is Charming?”

The other woman snapped her gaze away from the gentleman, her eyes wide. “I didn’t…oh dear.” A blush washed up her face. “Did I really say that aloud?”

“I’m afraid so.” While India had little patience with women who mooned over men, no matter how attractive they may be, she couldn’t help but feel a touch of sympa­thy. Gentlemen who looked like Lord Charming rarely preferred more ordinary creatures like Miss Honeywell, or, for that matter, India.

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said under her breath, “I should have said dashing.” She grinned. “No, his name isn’t Charming or Dashing, of course, and he isn’t a lord, at least not yet. But he is the heir to the Earl of Danby. That’s Mr. Saunders. He’s the son of Lady Blodgett’s niece.”

“My apologies but it seems there will be a slight delay,” Lady Blodgett announced. “We should only be a few minutes, but until we return please avail your­selves of the refreshment table. Oh, and—” her gaze flitted over those seated “—where is Miss Honeywell?”

“Yes?” Miss Honeywell stood.

“Be a dear, Sidney, and hand out this week’s pam­phlets.” Lady Blodgett smiled and followed her friends to the back of the room. All three ladies kept smiling but India would have wagered all three would have preferred to be anywhere but here at the moment. Mr. Saunders opened the door, and the three women filed through.

India rose to her feet. “Is he here often?”

“I really couldn’t say.” Miss Honeywell frowned. “He was here last week. That was the first time I’d seen him, but, as I said, I am new in this position.”

“Lady Blodgett and the others don’t seem especially happy to see him.” India’s gaze lingered on the door.

“No, I’m afraid not.” A thoughtful note sounded in Miss Honeywell’s voice. “Lady Blodgett seemed quite pleased to see him at first. But no one appeared especially happy after Mr. Saunders and the ladies met privately. They haven’t been quite their usual, cheery selves since.”

“I see,” India murmured. Still, while Mr. Saunders’s connection to the ladies did seem important, she wasn’t entirely sure of its significance.

Part of her hoped that this Lady Travelers Soci­ety was legitimate. But if so, why hadn’t anyone here responded to her concerns about Heloise? If the la­dies who managed the society weren’t simply taking money for services they were not really providing, why wouldn’t they want to do everything possible to recover one of their own? No, there was something decidedly wrong here.

As much as she hated to admit it, Inspector Cooper might well be right. There might be a man behind it all.

And it was becoming fairly obvious exactly who that man was.

Still, at the moment, it was nothing more than specu­lation. Far better to face the inspector’s smug, superior attitude when she had found Heloise and was, as well, able to present actual proof that someone had set up an organization for the sole purpose of taking money from those who could least afford it. Worse yet—stealing their long-held dreams of adventures on foreign shores.

India’s resolve hardened. The overly attractive Mr. Saunders might well be able to fool three unsuspecting elderly ladies into being the face of his nefarious scheme, but India Prendergast was made of sterner stuff. She absolutely would not rest until Heloise was safely home. And if one hair on the dear woman’s head was so much as ruffled, India would see to it Mr. Saun­ders spent the rest of his days in prison.

No matter how dashing and charming he might be.