Page 3 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

He neither turned to her nor spoke, but from the corner of her eye, she caught him looking at her time and again, his glances brief and almost furtive. Was he shy? That seemed possible, though shyness was a quality she was somewhat unfamiliar with, given the nature of her family. Or perhaps he was appalled by the presence of a woman at a scientific society’s meeting.

Thisbe turned her head, watching him, so that the next time he glanced at her, he met her gaze. His eyes widened a little, and pink blossomed along his cheekbones before he jerked his eyes back to his note taking. Yes, that was it; he was shy. And his eyes were a warm, chocolate brown. A lovely color.

She was acutely aware of the man beside her. She could feel the heat of his body and smell his scent, a faint blend of man and cologne. That, too, caused a little pull deep inside her.

There was applause around her, and Thisbe realized the lecture had ended. Belatedly, she clapped and stood up, as everyone around them was doing. Her neighbor also popped to his feet, dropping his pad and pencil in the process, and he bent to retrieve them. His pencil rolled over toward Thisbe and stopped by the hem of her skirt. He picked up the pad and straightened, glancing back down at the pencil. He shifted a little and stuck the pad back into his pocket, sending another longing look at the pencil.

He would have to speak to her now. Thisbe waited, tucking her own pad and pencil back into her reticule. The applause had stopped, and all around them people were turning to leave. The man shuffled his feet, then started to move away. Obviously, it would be up to her if she wanted to talk to him.

“Sir!” She picked up the pencil. He was walking away. “Sir.” Thisbe followed, reaching out to touch his arm.

He whipped back around so quickly that she almost ran into him. “Oh. Ma’am. Miss. I, um...”

“I believe this is yours,” Thisbe went on, holding out his pencil. His face was very nice, too, and those deep brown eyes were surrounded by thick fringes of black lashes.

“Oh!” Red began to stain his cheeks again. “I, um, thank you.” He took the pencil from her, his fingertips brushing her skin, which sent a tingle all through her. He dropped the pencil into his pocket, but continued to stand there, looking at her. “I, uh, it was a very nice talk, wasn’t it?”

Thisbe knew a flash of triumph. He wanted to talk to her, as well. But clearly she would have to carry the burden of finding a topic. “Yes. The Covington Institute often has interesting lectures. Mrs. Isabelle Durant gave a very nice talk on botany last month. Of course, not all the discussions are scientific.”

“Mrs. Durant?” He looked surprised.

“Yes. She’s been an avid collector and illustrator of wildflowers for some time. She’s published several books.”

“Oh. I see. I’m sorry... Botany is not a field I’m especially familiar with. I’m afraid I’ve never, um, heard of her.”

“Few have, unfortunately. Her work is largely ignored by her fellow scientists because she’s a woman. The Covington Institute is quite forward thinking.” She smiled. “Women can belong to it, speak at it and attend its lectures. That’s why I come here so often.” Thisbe didn’t add that Covington was her mother’s maiden name and her mother had endowed the institution to further the goal of female education. She had found over the years that it was better not to bring up her family. No one ever acted the same after they learned Thisbe was the daughter of a duke. Especially since he was a duke with a reputation for oddity.

“I’m glad you do.” He smiled, and her heart wobbled in her chest.

“I noticed you were late.”

“That’s an understatement.” His smile lingered. “I wasn’t able to leave work earlier. I’m sorry—I hope I didn’t disturb you.” He seemed more relaxed now and as uninterested in walking away as Thisbe, though around them the lecture hall was emptying out.

“No. You didn’t disturb me at all.” That was a lie, of course, but the disturbance he had caused was of a far different nature than he meant. “I thought you might want to borrow the notes I made before you arrived.” She pulled her notepad from her reticule and offered it to him.

“Are you sure?” he asked even as he reached for it. “Won’t you want them yourself?”

She shrugged. “You can return it when you’re done. Do you plan to come to the next lecture?”

“Yes,” he answered promptly, his hand closing around the narrow pad. This time, Thisbe was certain that his fingers brushing hers was not an accident.

“I’m not sure what the topic is.”

“It doesn’t matter. I mean, I’m sure whatever they have will be interesting.”

“You can return the notes to me then.” A month seemed a very long time. She brightened as another thought struck her. “Or...do you plan to attend the Christmas lectures at the Royal Institution? I will be there, as well. Mr. Odling is speaking on the chemistry of carbon.”

“Yes. It starts on Boxing Day, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. “I think there are several lectures.”

“Excellent. Though one has to wonder how one can spend several days on the properties of carbon.”

“Ha! I can see that chemistry is not your field.”

“Not especially. I take it you are interested in chemistry.”

“It’s my life’s work,” Thisbe said simply. “I’ve been studying it since I was seventeen. Well, earlier than that, really, but at seventeen, I made it my focus.”