The Lady Travelers Guide To Larceny With A Dashing Stranger. Victoria Alexander

Her gaze returned to the papers on the table. “I am determined to make certain nothing goes awry,” she said, and it struck Dante her words were more for herself than for him. Perhaps she was not as confident as she appeared.

      “Please feel free to call on me at any time should you need my assistance in any way.”

      “Your offer is most appreciated but I doubt your assistance will be necessary.”

      “As you pointed out—one never knows what might be around the next corner.” He paused. Nothing in her dossier had indicated she was a well-seasoned traveler in spite of her current facade of competence, although admittedly that was not the kind of information he had requested. Still, something had struck him a few minutes ago that he had paid no attention. Perhaps the delightful Willie Bascombe was not as she appeared. “One more thing.” He leaned forward, braced his hands on the table and gazed into her eyes.

      Her eyes widened but she did not shrink from his direct gaze. “And what might that be?”

      “The map you are so dutifully studying.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “It’s upside down.”

       CHAPTER FIVE

      THERE WAS NOTHING like maneuvering nine people through the complexities of claiming luggage upon arrival in Paris at the salle des bagages and the subsequent annoying inspection by customs agents to make a woman feel not merely efficient but supremely confident. It was not easy, especially as everyone rudely insisted on speaking in French. Perhaps language barriers were among the reasons why she and George had never traveled beyond England’s shores. Although it was more likely attributable to finances. No doubt they would have traveled someday—if only to escape their creditors.

      Still, if asked, Willie would have said she did indeed speak French, more or less. Why, she had studied the language for years in school, as did everyone else she knew, and could say la plume de ma tante as well as anyone. But apparently when one was actually in France, one’s French was decidedly more less than more.

      Regardless, with her Baedeker’s guide in one hand, her notebook in the other and the wherewithal to hire a small army of porters, Willie had managed to dispatch their group via three separate cabs to the Grand Hotel. Her charges had heeded Miss Granville’s advice on limiting the amount of their luggage given the brief length of time they would stay in any one place. They had also forgone the inclusion of ladies’ maids in their party, apparently standard guidance from the Lady Travelers Society. It made a great deal of sense in terms of expenditures and practicality. Every hotel they would stay in provided maids for their first-class guests. The Grand Hotel was no exception.

      Upon their arrival nearly an hour ago, all the members of their party had been seen to their respective suites with assurances their every need would be met. Willie’s admiration of Miss Granville’s efficiency reluctantly notched upward. Who would have imagined Willie Bascombe would ever be impressed by efficiency? Apparently, Miss Granville, and her employer, were skilled in making the impossible possible. Willie had been aware, of course, of the Paris Exposition—why, everyone in the world was talking about the massive iron tower symbol of the fair—but she had never considered what that might mean to the availability of hotel rooms in the city. Indeed, she was fairly certain if she were not traveling under the auspices of Mr. Forge’s Lady Travelers Society, she would be hard pressed to find any available rooms at all let alone suites in the luxurious Grand Hotel.

      They had arrived at an appropriate hour for a civilized dinner but everyone agreed—given that the proper tea service on the train from Calais had been surprisingly good in both quality and quantity—that no more than a light supper was required. Furthermore, they would all much rather spend their first night in Paris viewing the illumination of the Eiffel Tower.

      Willie now awaited the others, resisting the urge to tap her foot impatiently on the highly polished floor of the opulent crystal, marble and gilded lobby and trying very hard to look serene and unconcerned instead of annoyed by their tardiness. They did have a schedule to maintain after all. Willie could not remember a point in her life before now when she was not perpetually late but if she could manage to appear promptly—so could everyone else. Apparently, a desire for punctuality went hand in hand with the acceptance of responsibility. Besides, as the idea for viewing the illumination had been embraced with wholehearted American enthusiasm, one did have to wonder where on earth everyone was. If they didn’t leave soon, they would miss the initial lighting, which was reportedly quite a spectacular moment.

      At the very least, she expected Dante to arrive at the appointed time. It was difficult to continue to think of him as Mr. Montague even if she was not entirely ready to address him aloud by his first name. It would give the man all sorts of ideas she was not prepared to give him. At least not yet. Regardless, she could forgive him even if he decided to forgo the evening altogether. The poor man had had a rough go of it on their crossing of the channel. The faintest tinge of green had continued to color his complexion on the train from Calais and he’d been remarkably quiet, as well. No doubt if one was struck by mal de mer, the rocking motion of a train probably did not ease one’s discomfort. It was impossible not to feel sorry for him.

      Besides, he deserved a certain measure of lenience. If Dante Montague was truly trying to earn her friendship, he was going about it in a clever way. He could have made more of an issue over the silly problem with the map. And really, how absurd was it that one could get to the age of thirty and never have had to study a map before? At least a map that wasn’t in the pages of a dreadfully dull book of geography or used to illustrate the history of some long-ago conflict, and she’d avoided those whenever possible. No, the man had simply pointed out her error, straightened the map and taken his leave, requiring no explanation from her whatsoever. It was rather gallant of him really, especially as she had no explanation that didn’t sound completely incompetent.

      She spotted him crossing the lobby toward her and adopted a pleasant smile. It wasn’t the least bit difficult. After all, he obviously liked her and had admitted he wanted her to like him. It was at once flattering—what woman didn’t want a man to put forth some effort to gain her favor—and rather endearing. Still, she was not sure what to make of Dante Montague. She knew nothing about him other than he was good to his sister, which did speak well of him. The fact that he carried a valise implied he was a man of business or the law. Yet his manner was no different than most of the wealthy, spoiled bon vivants in her previous circle of friends. He was a dashing, likable man of some mystery and all the more intriguing for it.

      “Lady Bascombe.” A broad smile stretched across his face as if he were genuinely pleased to see her, even if they had only parted a mere hour ago. “I cannot believe any woman can manage to look so refreshed after such a short respite.”

      “How perfectly charming of you to say, Mr. Montague.” She returned his smile, surprised to note she was as pleased to see him as he appeared to see her. Obviously the man’s campaign was working. “One does try to be swift when one is engaged in travel and hoping to see all there is to see.”

      One also tries to steal at least a moment in which to regain one’s strength. Willie had collapsed on her bed for a quarter hour and then an excellent maid had assisted her with her hair and dress. It had been a long time since she’d had such a busy day. Traveling was far more wearing than she’d expected.

      “I doubt that we can possibly see all there is to see in Paris in the four days we’ve allotted to the city.”

      “Goodness, no. There is a great deal of interest to see in Paris.” Her Baedeker claimed a stay of two to three weeks was barely sufficient to acquire a superficial taste of what Paris had to offer. “But we shall do the best we can with the time we have.” Good Lord, she sounded like a governess. She peered around him. “Do you think the others will be joining us soon? I would hate to miss the illumination.”

      “About that.” He gestured at the exit. “We really should be going.”

      “We cannot leave without the rest of our party. It would be extremely rude and quite unforgivable.”