Page 62 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be testy. I’m not the one in love with him. It’s just... He’s smart and funny and very nice. He was perfect for you. You were so happy.”

“I’m not in love with him.” When both her sisters looked at her in disbelief, Thisbe amended, “At least, I don’t want to love him. I am determined not to love him.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Kyria asked.

“I will devote myself to work. I’ve been lax the last few days, but I shall simply make myself concentrate. I refuse to let Desmond Harrison mess about with my life.”

“Do you think Grandmother’s prediction was true?” Olivia mused. “I mean, it seems more likely now that Desmond actually was dangerous.”

“Only to my heart,” Thisbe retorted. “Do you honestly think the dowager duchess can tell the future?”

“No. Not really.”

“Grandmother is making it up, as she always does,” Kyria said. “You know how much she loves a dramatic scene. She didn’t like Desmond, and it was a grand way to get rid of him and make herself look important and mystical.”

Olivia snorted a laugh. “You just don’t like Grandmother.”

“Because she doesn’t like me,” Kyria protested. “I don’t care that I’m not her favorite, but it does seem one’s grandmother ought to at least like her.”

“It’s because you look like Mother,” Thisbe told her.

“I know. Still...”

“You should be glad she isn’t always telling you that you have ‘the sight’ and are like her,” Olivia added. “I mean, ghosts are interesting in novels, but I don’t think I’d really like to meet one.”

“Do you think she made up all that about Annie Blue, too?” Kyria asked.

“She couldn’t have made it all up,” Thisbe said. “That’s what Desmond called the quizzing glass, too—Annie Blue’s Eye. So there must be some sort of legend about the woman.”

“The part about her being tried as a witch might be true, too,” Kyria offered. “They were doing a lot of that in the 1600s.”

“It happened a good deal with the Tudors, as well,” Olivia agreed. “Bloody Mary and so on.”

“That was heretics. But, then, witches would qualify, I suppose,” Kyria mused. “Whatever you call them, it was gruesome.”

“Which would also appeal to Grandmother,” Olivia pointed out.

“You know whom you should ask,” Kyria told Thisbe. “Uncle Bellard. If anyone would know anything about this woman, it would be him.”

“I would ask him...if I wanted to waste my time on such nonsense,” Thisbe said. “But I intend to spend my time working.”

Despite her words, the next morning found Thisbe walking toward the remote set of rooms where her great-uncle lived. Her work had not gone well the afternoon before, and she had slept poorly, bothered again by a dream of the same woman standing in the midst of a fire. This morning would probably prove just as useless, so she might as well spend her time trying to discover something about the Eye. And, yes, she admitted, she was too curious to leave it alone.

“Thisbe?” Bellard opened the door to her with his usual vaguely bemused smile. “How are you? Your grandmother isn’t with you, is she?” He cast a look of trepidation down the corridor.

“No. She has no idea I’m here. I’m not sure she even knows where your rooms are.”

“Good.” He nodded happily and showed her into his sitting room. “Come in. Come in.”

As usual, his re-creations of battles were scattered about on tables all over the sitting room. The walls of the room were lined with tall shelves of books, and books were stacked on the floor and chairs and every vacant space on a table.

“Would you like some tea? Doris just brought up a fresh pot.”

They had no maid named Doris, but Thisbe didn’t point that out. Names were of no interest to her uncle unless they belonged to some person from long ago.

“She brought scones, too.” His eyes twinkled at Thisbe. “Dear Emmeline is always worried I may starve up here when Cornelia visits.”

“I fear Grandmother will be here for some time.”