Page 18 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

“No more mad than thinking it’s possible there are spirits around us who cannot be seen or heard,” he replied, his eyes twinkling.

Thisbe burst into laughter. “Very well. You have me there. I will strive to have a more open mind. Though I cannot imagine how you will go about proving or disproving it.”

“I’ll show you our laboratory one day. You could see what I’m working on.”

“I should like that.” They were making plans together, an assurance of seeing one another again. What the other day had seemed only a possibility was gaining substance.

“Tell me about the rest of your family. You said your father was an antiquarian?”

“Yes. And Uncle Bellard, who lives with us, is a dedicated historian. He’s terribly bright and very shy. But if you ask him something about history, he’ll talk for hours.”

They continued to chat as the lecture hall filled up around them, oblivious to the rest of the room. Their conversation ranged from Mr. Odling, who was set to give the lecture, to carbon, the stated subject of his presentation, and on to the recent discovery of a new element named helium. Thisbe was almost sorry when the speaker stepped up to the podium, though she had been looking forward to the talk for days.

She had difficulty keeping her mind on the presentation, too aware of Desmond beside her. The Christmas lectures were always well attended and the seats were smaller and closer together than at the Covington in order to accommodate the crowd. There, he had been inches from her; here, his shoulder almost brushed hers. If either of them shifted in their seats, their arms were likely to touch. It was difficult to maintain a calm and attentive expression when every time his arm brushed hers, it sent a sharp dart of excitement all through her.

After the lecture was over, they walked to Desmond’s shop, taking an omnibus part of the way. Her driver followed at a distance, but Desmond never glanced back. The shop was small, tucked in between two other larger buildings, and a sign across the door read Barrow and Sons. By the time they reached it, the light was fading and the shop was closed, but Desmond pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door. Lighting a candle, he ushered Thisbe inside.

The space was small, containing only a short counter and behind it a wooden cabinet. “We don’t have wares out as typical shops do. People generally come to us for something in particular, and often it has to be custom-made,” Desmond explained, crossing to a door to the side of the counter and opening it.

Here, obviously, was the real place of business. Thisbe had never been in a workshop before, and she looked around her with great interest. Shelves of supplies lined the walls on both sides of the long, narrow room. There were several tables, each with a set of two or three stools, most of them holding what looked to be works in progress. Desmond led her to the last worktable and turned on the gas lighting above it. Unlike many of the others, his section of the workspace was tidy, with tools to one side in a shallow tray.

He squatted down to rummage through a box beneath the table and came up holding out a kaleidoscope. Thisbe took it and looked into it, turning the other end to bring up other patterns. “It’s beautiful. The colors are so brilliant.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “Our lenses are the best. I always like to use vivid colors.” He took out another kaleidoscope. “This is a combination kaleidoscope. Here—use it to look at something on this table.” He set the tools and his key directly under the light. “It’s what I’ve been working on recently.”

Thisbe held the instrument to her eye. “Oh! It doesn’t look like a key at all.” She turned it from one station to the next. “This is wonderful.” She lowered the instrument and smiled up at him.

He was watching her, a faint smile on his lips. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Oh, I do.” She raised the kaleidoscope again, focusing on something else. “This would be wonderful in full daylight, wouldn’t it? You could look at flowers or a scene in the distance or, well, just about anything.”

“Take it.”

“What?” She lowered the kaleidoscope and turned to him.

“It’s yours. I’m giving it to you.”

“Oh, but... No, I didn’t mean... I wasn’t hinting that you should give me one. This must be intended for someone.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s mine—something I’ve been doing on my own.”

“But I mustn’t take yours.” She held out the kaleidoscope to him.

“No, I want you to have it.” He covered her hand on the instrument, pushing it gently back toward her. “Please, keep it.”

He was so close, and he was gazing at her in such a way that it made her breath catch in her throat. Thisbe swayed toward him, and he did the same. Then he kissed her.

CHAPTER FIVE

NO DOUBT IT was only fitting, Thisbe thought, that her first kiss should happen in such a mundane setting as a workshop. But there was nothing mundane about the kiss. It lasted only a moment, but it made her feel as if her heart would burst out of her chest.

Desmond lifted his head, his eyes a little hazy. Then he stiffened. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry.” His hands, which had come up to curve around the sides of her waist, dropped away, and he took a half step back, his words tumbling out. “I shouldn’t have—I never meant—I told you I wouldn’t take advantage, and here I—I’m sorry.”

Thisbe looked into his eyes and said, “I’m not.” She stepped forward and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck.

He made an odd little noise, and his arms went around her tightly. Desmond’s lips were soft on hers, warm and supple, their pressure increasing as the kiss deepened. Thisbe held on tightly, almost dizzy with sensations. How hard his arms were around her, the way his hands spread over her, that indefinable scent of him in her nostrils, and his mouth—oh, his mouth! It was moving on hers, opening her lips to him, his tongue slipping inside. Yes, well, that was a trifle startling and made everything inside her jump, but then—then she was melting into him, pressing up into his long, hard body.

It seemed forever before Desmond broke off their kiss, yet she hated for it to end. He raised his head and gazed down into her face, his eyes dark and deep. “Thisbe.”