Page 37 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

“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?”