Page 16 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

“Yes. Only Papa would find it romantic that she invaded his office and threatened to chain herself to the door,” Kyria giggled.

“What amazes me is that Papa was actually in his office.”

“He was young. I suppose he was trying to assume his duties as the new duke. Now—” Kyria firmly turned Thisbe back to face the mirror “—back to business.” Kyria tilted her head. “You must wear one of my hats. Yours will hide all my work. I brought just the one.”

The “one” turned out to be a small piece of felt little larger than a saucer, with a green ribbon and a sprig perched on the front. Thisbe laughed. “That is the most impractical hat I’ve ever seen. It couldn’t possibly keep the sun from your eyes or warm your head.”

“Of course not. Philippina’s hats are works of art.”

“How will it even stay on?”

“Hat pins, my dear.” Kyria held up two long, lethal-looking pins.

“At least I’ll have a weapon if I run afoul of any of Olivia’s footpads.”

Kyria positioned the hat at the front of Thisbe’s head so that it tilted up in the back to touch the elaborate coil of hair at the crown of her head and dipped to her forehead in front. Then she plunged hat pins on either side, deep into the mass of braided and coiled hair. “Charming.”

“It is!” Olivia agreed, jumping off her seat on the bed to admire her sister more closely. “Your Mr. Harrison will be overcome.”

“It’s lovely, Kyria. Thank you.” Thisbe’s words were heartfelt. The silly, minuscule hat was adorable, and the dress and hairstyle were flattering. But she could not help but worry all the way over to the lecture hall.

What if she looked too different? Too rich? Too aristocratic? She wasn’t sure how one looked aristocratic, but perhaps others could recognize it. Or maybe Desmond would assume she was trying to ensnare him. Would he think she liked him? Was attracted to him?

But she did like him, and she was attracted to him, so there was no rational point in concealing that, was there? It seemed the reasonable thing to do. Yet she was also certain that Kyria never wanted the men who courted her to know if she preferred one or another.

It was all most confusing. Thisbe didn’t know enough about feminine wiles. Perhaps she should have paid more attention to Miss Crabtree’s lessons in deportment instead of reading books. Kyria seemed to know these things without having to learn them.

By the time she reached the lecture hall, Thisbe’s stomach was in knots. She had the coachman set her down a block away from the Royal Institution and walked the rest of the way. After all her machinations to conceal the carriage last time, it would be silly to give it away now.

Of course, it was unlikely that Desmond would walk up at that precise moment or be loitering outside, especially this early. Thisbe had arranged to get there a good thirty minutes early so that she would be seated before he arrived. It was important that Desmond be able to choose whether or not to sit beside her. She also wanted to find just the right place so that it would be easy for him to reach, and she must save a seat for him in a way that wasn’t obvious. Perhaps it was all unnecessary, but Thisbe didn’t like to have variables.

She didn’t meet him as she walked to the building, nor was he waiting outside for her, which was a little disheartening, even though she knew that was illogical. She walked into the hall to survey the room. And there he was. He’d arrived even earlier than she; the audience was still quite sparse. Thisbe noted that he’d chosen one of the seats she would have picked and draped his coat over the seat beside him, which made her smile despite the roiling nerves in her stomach. She felt a sudden, unfamiliar shyness.

Desmond twisted around, searching the hall, and when his eyes fell on her, he jumped to his feet, grinning. The cold lump in Thisbe’s stomach vanished, and she smiled back just as exuberantly. As she drew closer, she could see the look in his eyes, and it was everything she had hoped for.

She took off her gloves as she approached and extended her hand, aware of an urge to touch him. “Mr. Harrison.”

“Miss Moreland.” His hand, warm and slightly calloused, enfolded hers. He looked at her the way Kyria’s beaux looked at her, as Thisbe had wanted, but it was somehow more, something deeper and more intense. “You look beautiful.”

Thisbe felt heat rise in her cheeks. She was not used to compliments such as this. It made her chest swell with happiness, but she didn’t know how to respond. “So do you.” She blushed even more. She was fairly certain that was not the sort of thing she was supposed to say. “I mean, handsome. That is, um, you look very nice today.”

“Thank you.”

She hadn’t noticed that he was still holding her hand until he released it. “I wasn’t sure that you would come,” she told him.

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Desmond whisked up his coat from the other chair, and they sat down, turning toward each other. “My employer is a good chap. He lets me leave early if I come into work earlier.”

“I’m glad. Though it does seem too bad that you have to spend your days on that when you could be pursuing science.”

“I’d prefer it,” he admitted. “But my work is in the realm of my interests.”

She cast about for something to keep him talking. It was hard to think, sitting so close to him. “What is it you do?”

“We deal in optical instruments and parts—lenses, thermometers and so on. Primarily, I work with kaleidoscopes.”

“Kaleidoscopes? You make them?”

He nodded. “And I experiment on advancements in the area—using different sorts of objects or using them in various ways. Developing new ideas. In particular, I’m interested in combination kaleidoscopes.”