“No?” Roz turned another page.
“No,” he said firmly. “I am trying to do nothing more than forge a friendship with her. A cordial companionship if you will. After all, we have a full two weeks before we reach Venice.”
“A lot can happen in two weeks,” Roz murmured.
“Indeed it can.” He bent his head closer to his sister’s. “If Lady Bascombe and I are on firm, affable footing, if we are indeed friends, by the time she retrieves the painting, it will be that much easier to tell her of our claim of ownership. She will be far more willing to listen to reason with a friend she trusts than with an enemy.”
“And that is your plan?”
“And an excellent one it is too.” Admittedly, it had only just occurred to him when he’d realized he wouldn’t at all mind being friends with Lady Bascombe. Anything beyond that was absurd, of course. But friends, yes, friends would be good.
“And to think, I have always thought you were so much more intelligent than I.” She set her magazine on her lap, folded her hands on top of it and met his gaze. “That is the most absurd plan I have ever heard. Although I hesitate to use the word plan as it sounds more like an ill-conceived disaster in the making.”
“Rubbish,” he said staunchly. “If she knows me, if she likes me, she’ll be much more amenable to my position. I’ve found that to be an excellent business practice. One that rarely fails.”
“Now, there’s the overly methodical and somewhat stodgy brother that I know and love.”
He ignored her. “It makes perfect sense.”
“In business perhaps. But when it comes to women, my poor, sweet, deluded brother—”
“She’ll understand.”
Roz scoffed. “More likely she’ll hate you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His gazed strayed back to Lady Bascombe—Willie. He’d never been one for masculine names on women—he considered them inappropriate and absurd. But Willie suited Lady Bascombe, who was at once independent and uniquely feminine. A woman who would surely listen to reason when he presented his claim. Especially if they were on a friendly basis. “She’s entirely too intelligent to hate me.”
“Ah yes, that will certainly make a difference. A woman’s intelligence always comes to the forefront when she discovers a man has deceived her.”
“I’m not going to deceive her.” Confidence surged through him. It really was an excellent plan. “I am genuinely going to win her friendship.”
“This explains so much.” Roz cast him a pitying look, set aside her magazine and rose to her feet. “I believe I will make a few friends myself. I suspect I am going to need them. This is going to be a far longer trip than I imagined,” she added under her breath and moved to join the other ladies.
In many ways—his sister was right. No time like the present to begin. He stood and casually made his way to Lady Bascombe’s table. “Lady Bascombe?”
She looked up. “Yes, Mr. Montague?”
“May I join you?”
She hesitated then smiled. “Of course.”
“Are you sure?” He settled in the closest chair. “I hate to interrupt.”
“No, that’s quite all right. I am simply going over our itinerary and travel documents.” She settled back in her seat and looked at him expectantly. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, I just...” Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought after all. He adopted his most winning smile. “I simply thought it would help pass the time until we arrive in Dover to engage in interesting conversation with the loveliest woman here.”
“The loveliest?” Her brow rose. “As well as legendary?”
He winced. “A bit too much?”
“A bit.” She smiled. “However, like most women I am not immune to flattery. You will quite turn my head with such talk, Mr. Montague.”
He chuckled. “I do hope so.”
“And if that doesn’t work surely your belief that our conversation will be interesting will have much the same effect.”
“And yet I was most sincere.”
“Very well then.” She studied him curiously. “What interesting topic did you wish to discuss?”
“Oh, there are any number of things we could talk about, I suppose.” He thought for a moment. “Politics, literature—”
“I’m not certain I’m prepared to discuss the Divine Comedy at the moment.” She waved at the papers in front of her. “My head is entirely too filled with the assorted and sundry details of transporting this group from one point to the next to dwell on the various types of sin and indulgence portrayed in the Inferno. I daresay the details of simply moving a party of nine from one country to another is complicated enough without considering whether any missteps taken in this life will have to be paid for in the next. Surely you understand.”
“Completely.” He chuckled. “And I would not wish to discuss as substantial a topic as one of the world’s great literary efforts in the brief time we have before Dover but we could consider a different work perhaps. I recently read Mr. Haggard’s Cleopatra and I found it quite enjoyable. Have you read it?”
“Not yet but I do enjoy Mr. Haggard’s work. I quite liked She and King Solomon’s Mines.”
“Then you like adventure and dashing heroes and sultry heroines?”
“I can’t imagine anyone who doesn’t, especially with heroes like Allan Quatermain.”
“Some might think such stories are rather frivolous.”
“And yet some of the most enjoyable moments in life are completely frivolous.” She shrugged.
“As well as unexpected.”
“I believe unexpected is the very definition of adventure.”
“Then one can’t plan adventure?”
“Goodness, Mr. Montague.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Where would be the fun in that?”
He leaned forward and gazed into her eyes. “You don’t think one can set out to seek adventure?”
“Ah, seeking adventure is a far cry from planning it. One can expect for adventure to arise or hope for it but I suspect exactly what form that adventure might take would always be unanticipated.”
He grinned. “Agreed.”
She laughed.
He settled back in his seat and studied her. “Why did a woman like you agree to host an excursion like this?”
“As you just noted, I like adventure.”
“Shepherding a group of women and their daughters on an abbreviated tour to a handful of countries scarcely strikes me as adventure.”
“Adventure, Mr. Montague, is where you find it. Who knows what might happen between here and there.” She thought for a moment. “We could encounter famous personages—someone like Mr. Haggard himself—on the boat crossing the channel.”
“Which might not be an adventure so much as an interesting moment I would say.”
“Oh, then you’re hoping for grand adventure.” Amusement underscored