Page 97 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

“Maybe you don’t care, but I care about people maligning you. I care that you would be forced to tie yourself to me.”

“Me? Forced?” She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “I think it’s more the other way around.”

“Even if we didn’t have to marry, there’s the disparity in our classes.” He fell back on another argument. “Your family tied to mine?”

“Desmond, you cannot be so blind as to think my mother or father would care a whit that you aren’t an aristocrat.”

He had to tell her, even though his insides quailed at the thought.

“It isn’t just that I’m not the son of a gentleman.” He took a breath and plunged in. “I’m the son of a thief. My father isn’t dead. He’s a felon.”

Thisbe gaped at him. “A felon? But you said—”

“I know. I know.” Desmond turned away with a groan. “Another way I deceived you. You asked me if he was dead, and—”

“And you said that he was gone, too.”

“Yes, but the truth was that where he had gone was the penal colony in Australia. I’m sorry, Thisbe. I’m so sorry, I should have told you. It was wrong, and I’ve felt wretched, but I couldn’t summon the courage to tell you. You already thought I’d used you get that damnable Eye. And then, when you thought I had stolen it...”

Thisbe nodded. “I can see why you would be reluctant.” She leaned forward, her voice earnest. “But, Desmond, I can hardly get angry about that sort of shading the truth when I did exactly the same by telling you my name was Moreland but not adding that I was Broughton’s daughter. It’s certainly not such a lie that I wouldn’t marry you.”

“Thisbe!” He had to laugh. “Only you would equate omitting that you’re a duke’s daughter with my not confessing I’m a thief’s son. Don’t you see? It’s not the deception—though I do regret that immensely—it’s the fact that no one, not even your family, would want a man like that for an in-law.”

“Really, Desmond, how dare you?” Thisbe said hotly. “How can you imply that my family would be so judgmental, so narrow-minded, as to brand you with your father’s misdeeds?”

“I didn’t mean that,” he protested.

“What did you mean?”

“Well, I...” He floundered.

“My family likes you, Desmond, and they want me to be happy. None of them would care a whit about who your father is.”

“Your grandmother would.”

“No one whose opinion mattered to me,” Thisbe amended.

“I have no money. Hell, I haven’t a job any longer. If I did, it wouldn’t support a wife, even if she were not accustomed to luxury.”

“But that’s silly.” Thisbe laughed. “Money is the last thing we need worry about. Papa has lots of it, so much he cannot possibly throw it all away on his pots and statues. We can live in any of the houses.”

“Any?” He gaped at her. “How many are there?”

“I don’t know. There’s the house in Bath, where Grandmother lives, and a fishing lodge in Scotland, though no one ever goes there except Theo and Reed when they want to have some boys’ outing. The Irish estate, which we never use because Mother disapproves of the subjugation of Ireland. And there’s Broughton Park, of course, the seat of the Morelands. It’s much larger than the London house.”

“Larger?” he asked weakly. At every turn, some new evidence of the gulf between them showed up.

“Yes, we could have a whole wing to ourselves at the park. You’d have a laboratory. You could share mine or have one of your own if you liked. You wouldn’t have to make kaleidoscopes—you could spend your time on the things you truly want to study. But if you didn’t want to live with my family, Papa would let us have any of the others we wanted. Or we could find somewhere that is ours—I have money now. Papa’s lawyer set up some sort of fund for all of us children, and since I’m over turned twenty-one, so—”

“Thisbe...” He thrust both hands into his hair, tugging at it, as he so often did when arguing with Thisbe. “It’s not your family—they’re delightful. It would be wonderful to live with them and have a laboratory and everything I wanted. But I cannot batten on your family like that. I won’t attach myself to you like a leech.”

“Is it because I accused you of using me?” Thisbe asked. “I don’t believe that anymore. I understand what you did and, anyway, I think I said that mostly because I was hurt. I wouldn’t think you are any of those things.”

“Others would.” He sighed. “Besides, it’s more than any of those things, and you know it.” He walked over and sat down on the bed beside her, taking her hand. “I am a danger to you.”

“But don’t you see? There’s no danger any longer. Now that Gordon has the Eye, there’s no reason to threaten me.”

“It’s not only Gordon and the Eye. It’s me. I know you scoff at your grandmother’s warning, but I cannot ignore it that easily. If I am a danger to you, I—”