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

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СКАЧАТЬ Lady...” Marian hesitated.

      Willie reached the door and turned back. “Yes?”

      “I hate to sound, well, stupid but I am at a loss. We don’t have titles in America, you see, so I have no idea what it is appropriate to call you, your ladyship.” Concern touched with embarrassment shone in Marian’s eyes. “Is it Lady Wilhelmina or Lady Bascombe?”

      Willie studied the other woman. With light brown hair and a charming smile she was quite attractive, although Willie suspected she might have been slimmer in her youth, and no more than ten years older than Willie, if that. This was a woman who, in spite of an air of confidence, obviously wanted to be liked as well as do what was expected and correct.

      “For one thing, it’s not necessary to refer to me as my lady with every breath,” Willie said as gently as possible.

      Marian’s face fell.

      “Goodness, Marian, as you said, you are not from England, so you cannot be expected to know all the myriad little details that accompany forms of address here. Why, I myself get confused on occasion. And I am certainly not the least bit insulted, so do not worry yourself about that for a moment.”

      “Thank you.” Marian offered a feeble smile.

      “My title is Viscountess Bascombe and I would usually be referred to as Lady Bascombe. However, as we will be spending a great deal of time together and I agree that we will all become good friends—”

      Marian brightened.

      “—I suggest you call me Willie.”

      From the look on Marian’s face one would have thought the clouds had parted and a shaft of celestial light had shone upon her. Willie wouldn’t have been at all surprised if the dulcet sounds of heavenly choirs weren’t ringing in Marian’s ears at this very moment.

      “Thank you, my...” Marian squared her shoulders, a brilliant smile lighting her face. “Willie.”

      The oddest sort of snort came from Geneva, who never looked up but did turn the page.

      Willie smiled and stepped down onto the platform. This might well be more entertaining than she had imagined. And one should always enter into new endeavors with a sense that they will turn out well. She wasn’t sure who had told her that but it was excellent advice. Certainly she had no experience at managing a group of travelers, and admittedly she had never actually traveled herself, but it couldn’t possibly be all that difficult.

      Confidence surged through her. Efficient was not a word that had ever been used to describe Lady Wilhelmina Bascombe. Nor was it a description she aspired to. Yet here and now, standing by the car door in the elegant black-and-white-striped traveling dress—updated with a stitch here and tuck there by the ever-so-clever Patsy—and the jaunty hat that had long ago been ordered from Paris, her new notebook in her hand, Willie was the epitome of efficiency. Or at least her idea of efficiency, which would have to do.

      That true personification of efficiency—Miss Granville—had hoped to arrange a tea to introduce Willie to her tour but it had proved impossible. Apparently, Americans in London were entirely too busy trying to see everything there was to see. Coordinating the various members of their group proved daunting even to the well-organized and eminently competent Miss Granville. Right now she awaited the rest of their assembly at the main entry of Victoria Station to see to their luggage. She had explained, while she would usually send someone else to take care of that, this tour was both exclusive and expensive and she much preferred to be present. If successful, it could pave the way for more quick, lucrative European trips, directed especially at Americans who never seemed to have as much time to spend as money. Miss Granville had added that given Willie’s experience with first-class travel, she expected absolutely nothing to go wrong. As she had said so with a pointed look Willie had blithely tried to ignore, Willie did wonder if perhaps Miss Granville wasn’t entirely accepting of the sterling recommendations given by Poppy and her friends. Still, while Willie wasn’t at all sure how businesses like the Lady Travelers Society worked, she was fairly certain what the founders of the society wanted they probably received. Regardless of her lack of experience or the fact that she had never been given any true responsibility whatsoever, Willie would not let Poppy and her friends down. She would rise to the occasion and confront any challenge head-on. And hadn’t she always loved challenges? Admittedly, she’d never taken on anything like this but it couldn’t possibly be all that difficult. Why, women these days traveled all the time.

      Willie pulled a list of names typewritten on a sheet of paper from her notebook. These were her charges, the companions she would spend the next few weeks with, the travelers she had to thank for her expense-free trip to Venice. The unsuspecting tourists she fully intended to abandon there. Once she had her painting in hand, she planned to return to London at once. It would not reflect well on Poppy and her friends, and Miss Granville would not be happy, but Willie had no choice. She vowed to do whatever was necessary upon her return to make amends to all concerned.

      Willie had made discreet inquiries with a solicitor, Mr. Virgil Hawkings, who was well-known in art circles. He had agreed to act as a mediator between Willie and potential buyers. When she spoke with him again yesterday, he’d said there was a fair amount of interest, adding the offers for the Portinari might be far more than she had imagined and mentioning a figure she had not dared to hope for. Indeed, he was already setting up a discreet private auction to take place next month. She’d protested that she might not have the painting by then but Mr. Hawkings was adamant that in matters of this nature it was best to strike while interest was still high. She absolutely had to be back with the painting by then. Staying with her group through their visit to Rome would put Willie’s return in time for the auction in jeopardy. Even someone who had never traveled knew any number of unexpected problems could occur, many of which were detailed in the numerous pamphlets from the Lady Travelers Society she’d read in the past few weeks.

      Willie studied the names on her list in an effort to ignore the bit of guilt niggling at her. Guilt was as foreign to her as efficiency. And now that she’d met two members of their party, there really wasn’t anything to feel guilty about. Marian Henderson was chatty but did strike Willie as competent enough. She was American after all and while Willie had never known any Americans, they did have a reputation for charging forth into the unknown with unfailing confidence and a stouthearted lack of hesitation. Willie found it admirable. Besides, she would leave all her maps and guidebooks and make certain everyone in their party had the confirmation telegrams for their hotels and train vouchers and everything else they needed. They would be fine. Probably more than fine. Why, it would likely be the grandest of adventures for them. Her departure would simply add to the stories they could tell about their travels. Admittedly, Willie might not come off particularly well in those stories but she really had no choice, even if she was beginning to—

      “I beg your pardon,” a quiet voice asked, barely loud enough to be heard over the din of the station. “Are you Lady Bascombe?”

      Willie looked up and adopted a welcoming smile. “I am.”

      A short, attractive fair-haired lady about Marian’s age stood flanked by two young pretty blonde women. Two identical young women. Miss Granville had said there were three separate family groups on the tour and according to the list of names, these three were either J. Corby and daughters or D. Montague, R. Richfield and daughter. Apparently, Miss Granville thought abbreviations were efficient. In truth, they were confusing.

      “I’m Mrs. Corby.” The woman returned Willie’s smile. “And these are my daughters, Emmaline and Matilda.”

      “We prefer Emma and Tillie,” one of the girls said.

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