Page 109 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

“Now.” Mr. Wallace straightened his jacket. “Perhaps we can have a reasonable discussion.”

Thisbe glanced at Desmond, and he shrugged. “I hope you told the authorities where you were going.”

“Of course,” Thisbe replied coolly. “Grandmother is even now haranguing the prime minister—Mother, more practically, is doing the same at Scotland Yard. Worse for this lot, though, is that Reed and Theo are already on their way here.” She doubted that these men would know that Theo was crossing the Atlantic at this moment, but hopefully Desmond would get the message that she was lying through her teeth.

“Mmm. Bad luck for you,” Desmond told Grieves. “Thisbe’s twin has a wicked temper.”

“Theo’s very protective of me.” Thisbe looked up at Desmond, feeling wonderfully in tune with him. Despite their predicament, she couldn’t keep from smiling and taking his hand.

“Here, now, stop that.” Grieves frowned suspiciously. “Move on.” He waggled the gun in the direction of the room they’d just left. “Back in there.”

“You do realize, Mr. Grieves,” Thisbe said conversationally, “I could pay you a great deal more than Mr. Wallace. Release us, and I will double whatever he’s promised to give you.”

Grieves grinned. “That’s tempting. But if I let you go, how do I know you’ll pay me?”

“Grieves...” Wallace said warningly.

“You have my word,” Thisbe said. That, of course, would mean nothing to a man like Grieves. “I’ll give you these earrings as a token to ensure my payment.”

“I can take those from you, anyhow,” Grieves replied. “You. Harrison, get in there. Missy, you stay here.” He came forward and grasped Thisbe’s arm, his gun touching the back of her skull. He sent a challenging look at Desmond.

Desmond regarded him stonily, but turned and walked back into the room they’d just left, followed by Wallace and Gordon. Grieves directed Desmond toward the bookcase and pushed Thisbe down into the chair Desmond had occupied before, letting go of her arm but keeping his gun aimed at her head.

“Now, to the matter at hand.” Wallace removed the box from the cabinet and reverently took out the Eye.

“I told you I’m not going to use it.” Desmond crossed his arms.

“Ah, but that was before we had this young lady with us.” Wallace smiled triumphantly. “I believe you may be more amenable now.”

“Desmond, don’t.” Alarm shot through Thisbe. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous? No, no,” Gordon said, tut-tutting. “There’s no danger. All he has—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Gordon,” Thisbe said crisply. “But you don’t know anything. Not about the Eye. Not about Desmond or Anne Ballew. And least of all about me.” She stood up, looming over the shorter man, and Grieves, huffing out a muffled laugh, didn’t stop her. With a steely gaze worthy of Old Eldric himself, she went on, “My grandmother chews up little men like you and spits them out. She knows everyone of importance up to and including the Queen. You think your name is sullied in the scientific world now? Wait until the dowager duchess is through with you.”

Gordon gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Thisbe swung away from him dismissively and addressed Wallace. “And you. You’re already guilty of thievery and kidnapping. Do you really mean to add murder to that list? Just to get a glimpse beyond the grave? There’s no need—if you kill me, you’ll see it for yourself soon enough.”

“Shut up, you stupid girl!” Wallace erupted. “It’s not about seeing spirits. I don’t want to see my wife. I want her back.” He shook the Eye at her. “You’ve no idea what this can do. He can raise the dead with it. He’ll make her whole again! Alive!” His eyes were lit with an unholy fire as he raised the Eye like a holy vessel before Desmond. “Do it! Her life for my wife’s.”

“No, Desmond!” Thisbe moved forward. Grieves and Gordon simply stared, riveted by the scene unfolding before them.

“You’re mad,” Desmond told him flatly.

“Am I? Maybe so. But that’s how you know I’ll do what I say.”

“If you kill me, you’ll have nothing,” Thisbe said. “It’s a ridiculous threat.”

“That’s why I won’t do it quickly. You’ll die a slice at a time.” Wallace tossed the Eye at Desmond and grabbed Thisbe’s arm, jerking her forward. Wrapping one arm around her, he pulled against him, his other hand at her throat.

A sharp pain and a trickle of moisture down her neck told Thisbe that the hand at her throat held a knife. Desmond, the odd instrument in his hand, stared at Thisbe and Wallace, his face several shades paler. Wallace’s knifepoint prodded her again.

“Stop!” Desmond shouted. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” He raised the glass to his eye and stared into it, frozen.

“No!” Thisbe screamed, throwing back her head and smashing Wallace in the nose. She jumped, grabbed the Eye from Desmond’s paralyzed grip and flung it across the room.

A shot rang out, and everyone whirled. Carson Dunbridge stood in the doorway, a smoking pistol in his hand. “Well, Desmond, for such a dull chap, you certainly do get into a lot of trouble.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO