Her Scandalous Pursuit

by Candace Camp

  Thisbe leaned her head against the duchess’s shoulder as if she were a child again. Except this was no scraped knee or wounded feeling that could be banished by the awesome power of her mother. After a time, Thisbe quieted. She lifted her head and brushed away her tears. “I’m sorry. I never cry.”

  “Everyone cries sometimes. Come, let’s sit down and straighten this out.” The duchess put her arm around Thisbe’s shoulders and steered her over to a bench against the wall. Pulling out a handkerchief, she handed it to Thisbe. “Now. What has happened?”

  “Desmond jilted her,” Kyria said.

  “Kyria!” Olivia glared at her older sister. “Don’t say that. He did not. They aren’t even engaged. He just—”

  “He just said that he wouldn’t see me anymore,” Thisbe revealed.

  “But why? He seemed such a nice young man—that nanny he recommended has been a godsend,” Emmeline said. “Why would he break it off with you like that?”

  “Because of Grandmother.” Thisbe sent a baleful glance at the dowager duchess.

  Emmeline swung toward Cornelia. “What did you do?”

  “No, she didn’t do anything,” Thisbe quickly explained. “It wasn’t anything new. It’s just... Desmond believes what Grandmother told us.”

  “Well.” Cornelia rapped her cane sharply against the floor. “Good. The boy has more sense than I thought.”

  “He believes in Grandmother’s ghosts and goblins?” Kyria asked in astonishment.

  “Don’t be impertinent, young lady,” the dowager duchess snapped. “I don’t believe in goblins. The spirits of the dead, however, are very real. The fact that you haven’t the ability to see them does not alter that fact.” Cornelia nodded toward Olivia. “Olivia would understand if she would only stop hiding from it.”

  Thisbe sighed. “He says he can’t dismiss your warning. Apparently his aunt filled his head with nonsense about a birthmark on his back that she says is the mark of death.”

  “I knew it!” their grandmother said triumphantly. “I saw death clinging to him.”

  “And he thinks he saw his sister’s spirit after he died.”

  “Really?” Olivia’s eyes widened.

  “I’m certain it was only a dream,” Thisbe said. “I’m not sure he fully believes Grandmother’s prophecy himself. But he says that if there’s any possibility of danger to me, he must avoid it.”

  “Quite right.” Her grandmother came over to pat Thisbe on the shoulder. “It will be all right, child. You’ll see. The man did exactly as he should. I am rather impressed by him.”

  “I’m not,” Emmeline said. “I don’t know when I’ve been more mistaken about a person’s character. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.” She paused. “Thank goodness Theo went to Bristol yesterday.”

  “Yes,” Thisbe said with conviction. If Theo had been here, he would probably have gone storming off to thrash Desmond.

  “The point is—” the dowager duchess retook the conversational reins “—Thisbe is young, and this was only a brief infatuation. You’ll forget about this Harson fellow.”

  “Harrison,” Thisbe corrected, unsure why she bothered.

  Cornelia ignored Thisbe’s interjection. “There are any number of young men in the world who are much more suitable partners for you. This is all the more reason for you to have a Season.”

  “Grandmother...I don’t want a Season.”

  “Not the whole Season,” Kyria agreed, sitting down on the other side of Thisbe. “That would drive you mad. But you should attend a party or two. It would do you good to get out—the worst thing one can do is sit around moping over a boy. There’s a ball next week at the Throckmorton house—you should come with us.”

  “Indeed.” The dowager duchess nodded. “An excellent idea, Kyria. Thank goodness you have some social sense.”

  “They have a point,” Emmeline said.

  “Not you, too.” Thisbe sent her mother a horrified look.

  Her mother patted Thisbe’s knee. “In general, I think balls and such are a waste of time, but Kyria is right. A party might be exactly the thing to help you forget your troubles for a while.”

  “Going to a ball and partaking in insipid conversation will not make me forget Desmond.”

  “No, but your irritation at the insipid conversation might take your mind off him,” Kyria quipped, and Thisbe had to laugh despite the pain in her chest.

  “Come.” Kyria took Thisbe’s hand and tugged. “We’ll ask Cook to make us some hot chocolate, and we’ll gossip and try on frocks.”

  “I don’t want to try on frocks,” Thisbe protested, but she let her sister pull her up and lead her toward her bedroom.

  “Then we’ll just spend the afternoon vilifying Desmond Harrison.”

  “I don’t want to even think about the man.”

  Unfortunately, Thisbe found that it was impossible not to think about him. Even burying herself in her work didn’t help. Reading a paper about the use of the spectroscope in the discovery of rubidium made her think of Desmond. In the midst of an experiment, her mind drifted off to memories of their time together. She wondered what he was doing, if he missed her or regretted his decision. She remembered his kiss, his touch, the feel of his arms around her, and every thought brought that now-familiar ache to her chest.

  More than once, she decided that she would go talk to him, but her nerve failed her. Surely she had more pride than to chase after a man who didn’t want her, which was, she was convinced, the real reason he parted from her. Desmond couldn’t actually believe that being with him would kill her. It was too absurd, too superstitious. Why, he had told her how little he believed in superstition. He was a scientist, and even if he was engaged in Gordon’s spiritual research, he did it out of scientific interest. It didn’t mean he believed in dark omens or deadly birthmarks.

  No. Desmond simply was not interested in her. It had been an infatuation, and it had ended. Thisbe could only hope that her grandmother was right, and it had been an infatuation for her, as well. In a few days she would stop thinking about him, stop missing him, stop aching to feel his lips on hers.

  She was sitting in the laboratory, idly spinning a glass stirrer on her table, going over what Desmond has said for the hundredth time, when Olivia burst into her room, breathless and braids flying.

  “Thisbe! Theo came home.”

  That lifted Thisbe’s spirits. She popped to her feet. “Good. Where is he? His room? The sultan room?”

  “No. That’s the thing—Grandmother told him about Desmond, and Theo went charging off to find him.”

  “Blast it! Why did she have to do that?”

  “She wanted to tell Theo about her moment of triumph, I imagine. But that’s not the problem. Theo will flatten him—you know he will. He took honors in boxing at Eton.”

  “He doesn’t know where to find Desmond. Theo will charge about for a while, and that will calm him down. He’ll return and—”

  “He was going to talk to John the coachman,” Olivia replied in a voice of doom.

  “Thompkins? My God.” Thisbe ran for the front door. Grabbing her coat from the rack by the door, she darted out, not pausing to put on a hat.

  Theo had taken the carriage, she assumed, so she had to find a hack. Lifting her skirts more than was maidenly proper, she ran for a busier street. Where would Theo find Desmond? In the past, this was about the time he would come to call on her. Since he was no longer engaged in that occupation, he probably went to work at a normal time. He would still be at the optical shop.

  She stopped a hack by running in front of it. It was only after she got in that she remembered she had also run out without taking any money. Oh, well, she’d make Theo pay him; he deserved it.

  When they reached the shop, Thisbe sprang out and ran for the door, which was standing open. That wasn’t a good sign. She
had been counting on Thompkins not knowing the shop’s address, since he’d never taken her there. Behind her, the driver of the hack let out a roar, but she paid him no attention. Her heart was racing, her stomach sick with dread.

  The front of the shop was empty and the curtain to the back was half-ripped-off and dangling. She ran through the opening. A large group of men was clustered at the other end of the room, mouths open, watching the scene before them. They blocked her view, so she could see only Theo’s head rising above everyone else. Oh, God, where was Desmond?

  “Damnation!” Theo’s voice rang out as Thisbe rushed toward them. “Fight back, would you!”

  “No.” It was Desmond’s voice. “You’re right. I am to blame.” His head rose above the others, too, now; he had obviously gotten to his feet. Blood streamed down one side of his face.

  Thisbe let out a cry of distress at the sight of him. “No! Theo! Stop this!” She started to push her way through the men. One or two fell back, startled, but she had to hit another with her fist to get him to move. She emerged behind Theo.

  Her brother was already turning around at the sound of her voice. “What the devil are you doing here? Stay out of this.”

  “Thisbe!” Desmond’s voice was only a whisper, but she felt it all through her.

  She didn’t look at him as she grabbed Theo’s arm. “Don’t. Stop this right now.”

  Her twin glared at her mulishly, jaw set and eyes lit with a green fire. “Go away. It’s nothing to do with you.”

  “Ha!” She stepped between him and Desmond, setting one fist on her hip and pointing the other at Theo. “It’s precisely to do with me.” She poked her twin in the chest. “You cannot run about hitting people just because they’ve done something you don’t like.”

  “For pity’s sake, Thiz...” Theo grimaced, but his fists were no longer clenched, and she knew she had won.

  Still, she gave him another poke just to emphasize her words. “I can fight my own battles, thank you. I’m not a child you must protect. I am a grown woman, and I have to face the consequences of my own mistakes.”

  “I know, I know. Stop doing that, would you?” Theo raised a hand to deflect another thrust of her forefinger.

  “Good. Then we are agreed.” Thisbe went back to his side, linking her arm through his, and finally let herself look at Desmond.

  He was still standing in the same spot watching her, his eyes avid on her face—or, at least, one eye, for the other was rapidly swelling shut. The skin around that eye was red, and there was another spot like it near his mouth; they would both soon be black-and-blue. His lip was split and trickling blood, but it was the cut by his eyebrow that had streamed blood down the side of his face.

  Thisbe’s stomach clenched, and she had to fight back tears at the sight of the damage Theo had done to Desmond. She wanted to tend to him, to wash away the blood and fuss over him. At the same time, she was stabbed by a longing so fierce she could hardly bear it. His tousled dark hair, his long lean frame, his face, so familiar and yet so lost to her. And the longing in his eyes as he looked at her... How could he have cut himself off from her?

  She willed him to come forward, to reach for her, even to take one step toward her. She waited for one long, aching moment, then said hoarsely, “I’m sorry, Desmond. I apologize for my brother.”

  He shook his head. “I understand.”

  “Come on, let’s go.” Theo turned away, pulling Thisbe along with him, and she didn’t resist.

  The crowd melted back as they walked up the aisle between the tables.

  “The bloody bastard wouldn’t even fight back,” Theo grumbled.

  “Perhaps he has more sense than you.”

  “I doubt that, or he wouldn’t have given you up.”

  Thisbe smiled and gave his arm a little bump with her shoulder. “Thank you for that.” She gestured toward the partially hanging curtain between the shop and the back. “I take it you’re to blame for that.”

  “I was in a hurry.”

  A man stood blocking the front door, arms crossed and a long carriage whip resting inside his elbow. “I want me money, missy. First ye run out in front of me and scare my team half to death, and then ye bolt without paying.”

  Theo raised a sardonic eyebrow at Thisbe, and she echoed, “I was in a hurry.”

  Theo looked coolly at the man, who began to fidget under his gaze. “I trust you were not planning to use that whip on a young lady.”

  “What? No. I just... I mean...” He began to stammer.

  “Never mind.” He waved the man out the door. “Take us home, and I promise I’ll make up for your troubles.”

  The driver doffed his hat to him and hustled back to his coach. Theo climbed into the hack after Thisbe and settled down beside her. “Where’s the carriage? Did you send it home?”

  “No. Thompkins wanted to take me, but it would have taken too long, so I got the address from him and took a hack.”

  “How did he know this address?”

  Theo shrugged. “He sent me to the laboratory, and they told me where Harrison was.” He paused. “They’re an odd bunch, aren’t they?”

  “You think all scientists are odd.”

  They rode in silence for a moment, then Theo sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It just creates more of a stir.”

  “I wish you hadn’t,” Thisbe agreed. “But I don’t blame you. I’d feel like hitting any girl who hurt you. The person I blame is Grandmother. She should have waited and let me tell you.”

  “Is all that true? Did she scare him off with her stupid prophecy?”

  “I don’t know. He said he was doing it to protect me. But it doesn’t seem very likely, does it? That he’d believe the dowager duchess can see death? Or that he’s cursed?”

  “Well, she can be pretty convincing—she could have made a living on the stage if she hadn’t married our grandfather. Even a rational man can believe in something he fears.”

  “So you’re saying it’s just that he’s a coward?”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t fight me, but he didn’t try to run, either. He didn’t seem afraid. He seemed... I don’t know, resigned, I suppose. And sad.”

  “I’d be sad, too, if you were pounding on me.”

  “No, I mean before I hit him. When he saw me come into the workroom. There was a back door, but he didn’t bolt for it. He just stood there, waiting for me. I think we’re all cowards when it comes to someone you love getting hurt. I remember once when Reed and I were going to...well, someplace we shouldn’t have been, we ran across a footpad. He pointed a gun at Reed, and I handed over my money without a thought of challenging him. If I’d been alone, I probably would have—”

  “Done something stupid and gotten shot,” Thisbe said, finishing for him.

  He flashed a grin at her. “You don’t have much faith in my abilities.”

  “You sound almost as if you believe Desmond.” When Theo shrugged, she went on, “And yet you attacked him.”

  “Whatever his reason, he still hurt you,” Theo said simply. “He shouldn’t have started if he couldn’t finish.”

  Thisbe leaned her head back against the seat. Could it be as Theo suggested? She thought of Desmond’s expression when he looked at her. Did he love her, as he’d said? Not that it made any difference now. She would never see Desmond again. Her throat was tight with tears.

  Theo studied her. “Would you like me to stay? I could put off my trip.”

  Thisbe blinked away the tears forming in her eyes and forced a smile. “And miss exploring the Amazon because I am being weepy? I think not. I’ll be fine, Theo. Really. I refuse to spend the rest of my life mooning over a man.” She lifted her chin. “It may take a little while, but I will forget about Desmond.”

  Someday.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THISBE L
OOKED ACROSS the ballroom at the throng of guests, and her heart sank. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

  “Because you realized how very wise I am.” Kyria flashed her a grin.

  “You didn’t tell me it was going to be such a crush.”

  Kyria took her sister’s hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll see. Dancing is the surest way to mend a broken heart.”

  “Do stop talking nonsense, Kyria,” their grandmother said from Thisbe’s other side. They had, Thisbe noticed, flanked her so that she couldn’t escape. “Stiffen up, Thisbe. You’re a Moreland—we are never intimidated.”

  “I’m not intimidated. I’m envisioning a boring evening packed in with a swarm of people I either don’t know or don’t like. Now I wish I’d taken Theo up on his offer.” Theo, with the face of a martyr, had said he would squire the ladies to the party, but Thisbe had kindly let him escape.

  “It’s better that Theo’s not here,” Kyria assured her. “You would have spent the entire evening talking to him.”

  “That’s what I mean.”

  “Theo is a disaster at parties,” Cornelia pronounced. “He’s immediately surrounded by marriageable young ladies and their mamas, and he is remarkably unskilled at fending them off. I cannot imagine why he was never taught better, but...” She gave an eloquent shrug that spoke of the poor influence of an untitled mother.

  “Reed is perfectly adept at parties,” Kyria pointed out. “It’s not their upbringing—it’s Theo’s nature. The man has no problem facing snakes and sand and tribes of Bedouin, but show him a gala, and he flees.”

  “Yes, it’s too bad Reed wouldn’t come,” their grandmother said.

  “Reed had a prior engagement.” Thisbe took up the defense this time.

  “Easily broken. They were just men.” With that parting shot, Cornelia marched off to sit with the other dowagers against the wall.

  “I can’t see how she’s considered a chaperone,” Thisbe commented. “She’ll spend the whole evening there gossiping with her friends.”

  “For which I am enormously grateful,” Kyria replied. “Come along—just stay with me.”