Her Scandalous Pursuit

by Candace Camp

  She could, however, at least avoid the meeting for as long as possible. For the next few days, whenever she heard her grandmother’s voice, Thisbe managed to whisk Desmond out to the garden for a walk or remember that she needed to make a trip to the bookstore—Olivia was always able to provide an excuse for that—and Desmond, of course, accompanied her.

  Another time, when she heard the strident tones of the dowager duchess on the stairs, she took Desmond to see her father’s collections room. Desmond had been happy to go, of course; though he knew next to nothing at all about Greek and Roman art, he was, as always, eager to learn, and they spent a pleasant hour meandering about, talking about potsherds, designs and the various periods of ancient art and architecture. Indeed, the duke was so impressed by the young man—though he called him Donald—that a few days later he happily hauled off Desmond to inspect his latest shipment.

  One afternoon, Thisbe had been delayed at the apothecary shop and arrived home late. A look in the red salon yielded nothing but her grandmother and Kyria. Nor did a quick peek into her father’s study or the music room, where Olivia was reading. Finally she tracked down Desmond to the twins’ suite of rooms. Desmond sat cross-legged on the floor with the two boys, a toy lying in pieces before them.

  “You see, this spring is what you wind up with the key, and—” Desmond looked up and beamed. “Thisbe! I was just showing the Greats how this clockwork toy worked.”

  “Thisbe! Thisbe!” Con ran over to take her hand and pull her over. “Dezment is taking it apart.” Desmond was quickly becoming their favorite visitor.

  “So I see.” Thisbe looked down at the collection of parts. “I hope this isn’t one of Grandmother’s toys.”

  Both the twins’ eyes grew large as they shook their heads emphatically. “It’s Livvy’s,” Alex assured her.

  Thisbe kneeled down on the floor beside them and said somewhat dubiously, “I presume you can put all this back together?”

  “Oh, sure,” Desmond told her cheerfully. “I was showing them how the gears work.” He released the key and held out the mechanism. “See, boys, how the spring makes this gear turn, and mesh with this one, and it’s connected to this other little spring that moves the leg up and down.”

  The boys watched, enthralled.

  “It looks rather gruesome moving that way without part of its leg,” Thisbe commented.

  Desmond chuckled. “Ah, but that’s part of the attraction for little boys.”

  “Gr-u-uesome,” Con repeated, drawing out the word, and Alex was inspired to jump up and imitate the jerky march of the toy. Con joined in, and the two marched across the length of the room.

  Desmond began to deftly fit the pieces back together. Thisbe sat down beside him, her shoulder close to his. She liked to watch his long, agile fingers move; it did something strange to her insides that was altogether pleasurable. She had never really paid attention to men’s hands before, but she had decided that Desmond’s were undoubtedly the nicest.

  “How did you wind up here with the twins?” she asked.

  “Your mother was downstairs with them when I arrived. Apparently the replacement nanny didn’t last but three days.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Yes. The duchess was less than pleased. She decided to talk to the agency in person.”

  “Unlucky them.”

  Desmond snorted. “I’d say. So I said I would stay with the boys. It sounded like Kyria had visitors, so we came up here.”

  “Wise choice.”

  “You know...” Desmond hesitated long enough that Thisbe turned her head to look at him. “Perhaps I shouldn’t put my oar in. I don’t know if she’s the sort your mother would want.”

  “Who? The sort of what?”

  “Nanny. For the boys.”

  “You know someone?”

  “It’s my landlord’s sister. Her husband’s dead and she had to come live with her brother, but I know she’d rather have some independence. She told me once the only skills she had were cooking and cleaning, and her brother doesn’t want her to hire out as a servant, says it would reflect badly on him. But I thought...a nanny wouldn’t be the same as scrubbing floors now, would it? She’s good with children—she raised three lads of her own, and I’ve seen her with her brother’s youngest. She likes little ones.”

  “You think she could hold up to the twins?” Thisbe looked over at the two boys, who were now climbing onto the low schoolroom table and jumping off.

  “She’s not old. I think she married young. I’m not sure how fast she is, but she’s strong. I’ve seen her shifting furniture about in one of the other flats. She’s not educated, of course, but she speaks well enough. But I didn’t know. I thought your mother might not want anyone that didn’t come from an agency.”

  “I imagine Mother would value your recommendation more than that of an agency. After all, she trusts you enough she left Alex and Con in your care. There are any number of people whom she would not trust to look after them...probably including my father.”

  Desmond laughed. “The duke might forget they were there.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled to herself. “I remember following Papa around when I was little. Theo would get bored and slope off. He was more like the Greats, always running everywhere. But I liked to listen to Papa talk. I didn’t know half of what he talked about, but I liked the way he talked to me, as if I were grown-up. And his crates and pots and books were more interesting than Mother’s meetings.”

  Alex jumped up from the floor and turned to look toward the doorway, like a pointer-spotting game. Con, standing on the table and about to launch himself after his brother, swiveled around to follow his brother’s gaze. Then, almost as one, they cried, “Granna!” Con jumped down and they took off for the door.

  “Oh, dear.” Thisbe looked toward the door. “Perhaps she won’t come in here.”

  In the hall there were cries of “Granna! Come see! Come see!”

  Thisbe grimaced. There was no escape now. She swung around to Desmond. “I don’t think we can avoid her. I have to warn you—”

  “You think she’ll disapprove of me.”

  “No. Well, I mean, yes, she probably will, but that doesn’t matter. Her approval isn’t necessary to me. She doesn’t approve of my mother, either...or any number of people, for that matter. The problem is one never knows what Grandmother will say or do. It’s not only that she’s critical and judgmental—she’s also peculiar.”

  “Peculiar?” His mouth quirked up at the corner. “I thought that was something the Morelands took pride in.”

  “Not to the extent that we claim to talk to ghosts.”

  “The dowager duchess does?” Desmond asked calmly.

  “Yes. Her dead husband. Her mother. She told us the other day that she communes with the first duke’s spirit in the drawing room.”

  “I shan’t be bothered. I’m accustomed to people who believe in spirits, after all.” He unfolded his long limbs and stood up, reaching down a hand to Thisbe.

  “Desmond, please—please don’t mention your professor or his study.”

  “I would think she would have no problem with that, if she believes as he does.”

  “One never knows with her.” Thisbe glanced over her shoulder toward the door. The dowager duchess’s cane had begun to thump down the hall again, punctuating the twins’ excited chatter. “She might declare it all folderol because he doesn’t agree with her. Or, worse, she’ll want to throw in her lot with him. No matter what a thorn she is in one’s side sometimes, she is my grandmother, and I can’t bear to have her taken advantage of.”

  “He wouldn’t—”

  “Please.”

  “Very well. If you wish it, I won’t say anything.”

  “Thank you.” Thisbe breathed a sigh of relief. Now all she had to worry about was warding off whatever way her gr
andmother would choose to insult Desmond.

  “Who fixed it? Who is this fellow Damon?” Her grandmother’s voice boomed from outside the room.

  “He’s Thisbe’s,” Con answered simply.

  “Thisbe’s? Thisbe’s what?” Thisbe’s grandmother asked as she stepped in the door, her face turned down to the little boys tugging on her skirts. Thisbe’s mother entered the room behind them.

  “Dezment!” The twins pointed triumphantly at Desmond.

  The dowager duchess raised her head and saw Thisbe and Desmond standing in the middle of the room. She came to a dead stop and stared. “Good God in heaven!”

  “Grandmother,” Thisbe began, starting toward her.

  Her grandmother paid no attention to Thisbe. Her gaze was riveted on Desmond. Flinging out her hand to point at him like Jophiel sending Adam and Eve from the garden, the dowager duchess proclaimed, “For your love, my granddaughter will die.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A SHIVER RAN down Thisbe’s spine. “Grandmother!”

  “Duchess! Really!” Emmeline said, eyes flashing. “That is the outside of enough. I do my best to pay you the proper respect, but I will not countenance you insulting visitors in my home.”

  Thisbe turned to Desmond. The blood had run out of his face, and he was staring at the dowager duchess in a horror equal to that lady’s own. Even the twins had been silenced by their grandmother’s words and they stood staring up at her with jaws dropped. The boys turned toward Emmeline, eyes wide, and moved closer together. “Mama?”

  “Come here.” The duchess smiled at them, reaching her hands out toward the boys. “It’s all right. Nobody is going to hurt Thisbe. Your grandmother was only playing a little joke.” She directed her blazing gaze at the dowager duchess.

  Cornelia sent her a haughty look in return. “What I see is not in my power to control, Emmeline. The man has the cloud of death all over him.”

  Emmeline, eyes still glittering, said tightly, “Thisbe, why don’t you and Mr. Harrison take the twins outside? The duchess and I must talk. In private.”

  Thisbe jumped to obey, grabbing Desmond’s arm and pulling him past her grandmother and out the door. The twins scurried after them. Thisbe didn’t like the look on Desmond’s face. “Here.” She scooped up Alex and thrust him at Desmond. “You take Alex. I’ve got Con.”

  She lifted the boy to her hip and started grimly toward the stairs, but behind her she could hear the dowager duchess as she said, “If you don’t care for your daughter’s safety, Emmeline, I do.” After that, the door shut firmly behind them.

  Thisbe went down the stairs and out the back door, moving so quickly she forgot their coats. The twins, rarely deterred by the cold, wriggled down and took off. A moment later, a footman ran out, carrying coats. Then there was a lively game of chase, with the footman, Thisbe and Desmond chasing Alex and Con around the yard.

  By the time they caught the pair and fastened them into their coats, Thisbe and Desmond had recovered from the shock of the dowager duchess’s words. The exhausted footman retreated to the house, and Thisbe turned to Desmond. “I am so sorry.”

  Desmond smiled faintly as he draped her cloak around her shoulders. “Well, you warned me...”

  “Yes, but that was outrageous even for Grandmother.”

  “I did feel as if someone walked over my grave.” Desmond’s tone was light, but he looked away from her as he pulled on his own coat, and Thisbe suspected that his shiver was not entirely due to the cold.

  “It gave me a bit of start, too, but, of course, it’s all nonsense.”

  “Of course.”

  “None of the things Grandmother says about her ‘ability’ have any validity.”

  “Has she ever predicted someone’s death before?”

  “No.” Thisbe decided not to mention the puppy whose demise her grandmother had foreseen; after all, it was weeks later that the poor little thing ran out into the road and was struck by a wagon. “It’s sheer nonsense.” She took his arm and said earnestly, “I hope this will not make you avoid this house.”

  “I can brave your grandmother. Hopefully she won’t bar the door to me.”

  “I guarantee that won’t happen. I think she and Mother are about to have a rather titanic clash.”

  “Formidable as the dowager duchess is, my money would be on your mother.”

  He took her hand, and they strolled through the garden, keeping a watchful eye on Con and Alex. It would be all right. Wouldn’t it? Thisbe stole a glance up at Desmond. He seemed to be taking her grandmother’s prediction in stride, as he had everything else to do with her family. Still, she couldn’t help remembering how white his face had gone or the stricken look in his eyes. Nor could she rid her mind completely of that puppy. It had scared her at the time, but she reasoned that away. It was just...she wished the dowager duchess’s vision hadn’t included that open gate.

  * * *

  HE DIDN’T BELIEVE IT, Desmond told himself as he strode toward the laboratory. It was all superstitious nonsense. He was willing, if it could be proved, to accept that spirits still hovered in this plane of existence, but the idea that people could foresee future events was going too far. It was akin to believing in fairies and elves, or walking around a ladder, or not taking a path because a black cat had crossed it.

  It didn’t matter what the dowager duchess had predicted or what his aunt had told him. Predictions, ill omens and curses did not belong in the realm of science. It was ludicrous to think that he could harm Thisbe, and how could love kill anyone, anyway?

  The dowager duchess simply did not want him around Thisbe and, given her peculiarities, this was the way she chose to frighten him away. She couldn’t know about him; she couldn’t know his aunt’s fears. Besides, it wasn’t as if everyone he loved had died. Was it? There was the vicar, after all, of whom he was quite fond, and he was still hale and hearty. So was Professor Gordon. Perhaps it was only women.

  No. He refused to enter that quagmire of ignorance and fear. The dowager duchess simply wanted him gone. He could scarcely blame her. He wasn’t a suitable marriage prospect for a lady. He was glad there would be a new lecture this week at the Covington, where he could meet Thisbe instead of calling on her.

  When he walked into the laboratory, he saw that Professor Gordon was watching him intently from the other side of the room, waiting, as always, for Desmond to bring him news of the Eye. It was no surprise when Gordon asked him to stay after the others. That made the third time in a week; it was little wonder that the others glanced back at him curiously as they left.

  “Have you made any progress?” Gordon was at his table as soon as the door closed.

  “No, sir. I’m not at all sure it’s possible.”

  Gordon’s face fell, which caused Desmond a twinge of guilt. His excuses were valid, but the truth was Desmond hadn’t wanted to search for it. “The duchess is hardly likely to use the thing in plain sight of a stranger. How am I to go about looking for it? There’s always someone with me—I cannot simply go wandering about the house alone. The place is enormous. I haven’t even seen all the rooms on the ground floor, let alone the upstairs.”

  “You must try,” the other man said urgently. “Desmond, don’t you realize how important this is?”

  “Yes, sir, I know how eager you are for me to find out something about it. But it’s difficult. I didn’t even meet the dowager duchess until today.”

  “What is she like? Would she be open to reason on the matter?”

  “I doubt it. She’s... Well, she’s odd.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell his mentor what the woman had said to him today. “She’s antagonistic, even hostile. I gather from what the others say about her that everyone has difficulty dealing with her.”

  “What am I going to tell Mr. Wallace?” Gordon moaned, shoving his hands back into his hair and beginning to pace.
/>   The man looked so woebegone that Desmond offered what little bit of information he had gleaned. “She wears a belt, a chatelaine, around her waist with all sorts of things hanging from it. One of the things on a chain is a set of spectacles. I thought—I wondered if that could be the Eye. If perhaps the spectacles had some sort of unique lens.” Desmond tried to recall whether Thisbe’s grandmother had held the spectacles to her eyes when she made her prediction this afternoon. Could it be that she had used the Eye to view death hovering over him?

  Gordon swung back around, looking hopeful again. “That could be it. You must get a look at those spectacles. Is it hung with a ribbon? You could snip it off.”

  Desmond sighed. “I’m unlikely to be that close to the woman. But I will try to get a closer look. Sir, surely Mr. Wallace will not be unreasonable. He must realize what a difficult task this is. He tried to deal with the woman himself—he knows what she’s like. He is aware how little knowledge we have about the Eye. He can’t expect us to be able to find it.”

  Gordon snorted. “Wealthy men don’t bother with the reasons—they want results. The dowager duchess has been here for over a week. He wants to know why we haven’t located it. I can only put him off with promises for so long.”

  “You promised him you would get it?” Desmond’s eyebrows soared upward.

  “He was demanding answers. I had to tell him something. Desmond, you must talk to her. Explain.”

  “I cannot,” Desmond said flatly. “Sir, please don’t ask this of me.”

  Gordon drew back, looking hurt. “I was certain you would help me. That you cared about...all this.” He swept his hand around the room.