Page 11 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

“I suppose it does mean something—most men seem afraid to sit by me.”

“What’s his name? Do I know him?” Kyria asked.

“I doubt it. He doesn’t move in your circle. He works in a shop.”

“He’s a shopkeeper?” Even Kyria looked discouraged at this news. “Is he old?”

“Papa will be sorry to find he isn’t a scholar,” Olivia said.

Thisbe laughed. “Papa would find him perfectly acceptable... Well, as acceptable as a man can be who doesn’t know an Etruscan vase from a Roman olive jar. Desmond is a scientist and very smart. And he’s not old. He doesn’t own the shop—he merely works there to support himself. Anyway, Papa’s approval is hardly an issue. It’s not as if I’m planning to marry the man.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s the first man I’ve ever heard you talk about, except for some crusty old scientist who is usually dead,” Kyria told her. “Desmond.” She rolled out the word experimentally. “That’s a good name.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

“What does he look like? What’s special about him?” Olivia asked, pressing for details.

“He’s quite tall, as tall as Theo—maybe even taller, though he’s more slender. Not as muscular.”

“That’s fine,” Kyria decided. “A scientist hardly needs to be able to paddle up the Amazon.”

“His hair is dark, and it’s rather too long and shaggy, and all mussed, though that might be because he was late and hurrying. It kept falling in his face as he talked, and he’d push it back with his hand, like this, which only made it messier.” Thisbe smiled at the memory. “His face is more oval than square, and his chin is firm. His mouth is perfect, not too wide or too narrow. He has a lovely smile, though most of the time he looks very serious. His eyes are deep brown, like chocolate, and his lashes so thick and dark it’s really unfair that a man has them.” She had been gazing off into space as she talked, remembering the details about Desmond, and when she looked back at her sisters, they were staring at her, mouths ajar.

“I have never heard you describe anyone so thoroughly,” Olivia said.

“Last week you couldn’t even remember whether Mr. Barlow was blond or brown-haired,” Kyria added.

“Who’s Mr. Barlow?”

Kyria leaned her head back and laughed. “That’s what I mean. He was here last week, but you scarcely recall him.”

“I don’t recall him at all,” Thisbe retorted. “I don’t keep track of your beaux, Kyria. It would take up entirely too much space in my brain.”

“Tell me this, then—what color are Willis the footman’s eyes?” Kyria challenged.

“I, um, brown?”

“They’re blue,” Kyria said triumphantly. “And he has been here for years. You see him every night at the supper table. You don’t pay the slightest attention to anyone’s looks.”

“I’m usually more interested in what they have to say.”

“Yet you remember every last detail of how this man looked. Quickly—what did he wear?”

“An ordinary jacket and trousers—grayish. His shoes were black and rather scuffed.” She grinned. “He forgot his coat and hat, and he’d lost his gloves.”

“Shades of Papa!” Olivia cried, and all three of them broke into laughter.

“No wonder you said Papa would approve of him,” Kyria said. “That’s good because you are seriously smitten.”

“Smitten? Is that what I am?” Thisbe smiled faintly. “I wondered what to call it. It was the strangest thing. I felt this—this zing all through me when he looked at me. And a—a connection, I guess, almost as if I knew him, only I didn’t, of course, but it was as though, just looking at him, I knew him. Does that make any sense?”

“Not a bit, but then I’ve never been in love,” Kyria told her. “I like various men just fine, some more than others. I wish I could dance with Howard Buckley more than two times at a ball, but that’s because he’s an excellent dancer, and Lord Highsmith makes me laugh. But I haven’t the slightest inclination to fall in love with any of them.” Her brow clouded. “Do you suppose there’s something wrong with me?”

“Nothing except an overabundance of suitors,” Thisbe replied. “How could you find anyone special among all that lot? This is your first Season, and it has barely begun. I don’t imagine you have to find love as soon as you come out.”

“True.” Kyria grinned. “In fact, I think it would probably put a damper on the fun.”

“Oh, who cares about your Season?” Olivia said, reaching over to poke Kyria in the leg. “I want to hear more about Thisbe’s beau.”