Page 51 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

“No, I mean before I hit him. When he saw me come into the workroom. There was a back door, but he didn’t bolt for it. He just stood there, waiting for me. I think we’re all cowards when it comes to someone you love getting hurt. I remember once when Reed and I were going to...well, someplace we shouldn’t have been, we ran across a footpad. He pointed a gun at Reed, and I handed over my money without a thought of challenging him. If I’d been alone, I probably would have—”

“Done something stupid and gotten shot,” Thisbe said, finishing for him.

He flashed a grin at her. “You don’t have much faith in my abilities.”

“You sound almost as if you believe Desmond.” When Theo shrugged, she went on, “And yet you attacked him.”

“Whatever his reason, he still hurt you,” Theo said simply. “He shouldn’t have started if he couldn’t finish.”

Thisbe leaned her head back against the seat. Could it be as Theo suggested? She thought of Desmond’s expression when he looked at her. Did he love her, as he’d said? Not that it made any difference now. She would never see Desmond again. Her throat was tight with tears.

Theo studied her. “Would you like me to stay? I could put off my trip.”

Thisbe blinked away the tears forming in her eyes and forced a smile. “And miss exploring the Amazon because I am being weepy? I think not. I’ll be fine, Theo. Really. I refuse to spend the rest of my life mooning over a man.” She lifted her chin. “It may take a little while, but I will forget about Desmond.”

Someday.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THISBE LOOKED ACROSS the ballroom at the throng of guests, and her heart sank. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“Because you realized how very wise I am.” Kyria flashed her a grin.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to be such a crush.”

Kyria took her sister’s hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll see. Dancing is the surest way to mend a broken heart.”

“Do stop talking nonsense, Kyria,” their grandmother said from Thisbe’s other side. They had, Thisbe noticed, flanked her so that she couldn’t escape. “Stiffen up, Thisbe. You’re a Moreland—we are never intimidated.”

“I’m not intimidated. I’m envisioning a boring evening packed in with a swarm of people I either don’t know or don’t like. Now I wish I’d taken Theo up on his offer.” Theo, with the face of a martyr, had said he would squire the ladies to the party, but Thisbe had kindly let him escape.

“It’s better that Theo’s not here,” Kyria assured her. “You would have spent the entire evening talking to him.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Theo is a disaster at parties,” Cornelia pronounced. “He’s immediately surrounded by marriageable young ladies and their mamas, and he is remarkably unskilled at fending them off. I cannot imagine why he was never taught better, but...” She gave an eloquent shrug that spoke of the poor influence of an untitled mother.

“Reed is perfectly adept at parties,” Kyria pointed out. “It’s not their upbringing—it’s Theo’s nature. The man has no problem facing snakes and sand and tribes of Bedouin, but show him a gala, and he flees.”

“Yes, it’s too bad Reed wouldn’t come,” their grandmother said.

“Reed had a prior engagement.” Thisbe took up the defense this time.

“Easily broken. They were just men.” With that parting shot, Cornelia marched off to sit with the other dowagers against the wall.

“I can’t see how she’s considered a chaperone,” Thisbe commented. “She’ll spend the whole evening there gossiping with her friends.”

“For which I am enormously grateful,” Kyria replied. “Come along—just stay with me.”

Kyria unfurled her fan and started forward. Thisbe had little choice but to trail after her. Within ten steps, one of Kyria’s admirers popped up, bringing them to a halt, and soon the men had formed an impenetrable semicircle around them.

Thisbe was as bored as she had predicted. Kyria’s men all talked nonsense, and Kyria kept vanishing to the dance floor. Some of the remaining swains politely asked Thisbe to dance, but Thisbe had never been a skilled dancer, and she found circling the floor in such close proximity to a strange man more duty than pleasure.

After a struggle around the floor with a man whose head only reached her bosom and whose dancing skills were as poor as her own, Thisbe avoided the band of men around her sister and headed to the refreshment table. As she turned away, glass in hand, she was startled by the sound of her own name. “Miss Moreland.”

She turned to see the young man she had met at the last lecture with Desmond. What was his name? “Good evening.”

He crossed the floor to her. “I’m sorry. I should have said Lady—”