Page 49 of The Scent of Intuition
“Lady Beatrice?” Alfie stepped closer. “Bea?” She was “Bea” in his mind, especially when they were alone, and he had a sinking feeling that her title and station were the source of her distress.
“I was hoping to see you,” she whispered, her back turned toward him.
She was so preciously shy.
You can trust me. But you should stay away from me because I don’t trust myself around you.
“There are workers at Cloverdale House. They’ve come to retrieve some of Pippa’s things for the new townhouse on Harley Street.” Bea turned her head as she spoke, raising her brows and taking on a placid expression. It was an act of pretending to be stronger than she was.
“Pippa will move out, which upsets you,” Alfie said.
Bea’s lips flattened into a line but quickly drooped into a frown. “You must think me a terribly selfish person. I apologize if I disappoint you.” She said it with such ease as if she’d often been told…wait!
“How could you ever disappoint anyone?” Alfie asked.
She faced him now, waved in the air, and inhaled. “I disappoint everyone. I’m not good enough. It’s why my parents left, why Stan doesn’t want me or else he would have called on me or sent flowers, and it’s probably why you will leave me alone, too.”
Alfie took another step toward her, still keeping a safe distance so he wouldn’t wrap himself around her and kiss this nonsense out of her mind.
“Why did your parents leave for China?”
“Singapore.” She corrected him. “It’s not part of China.”
“Why Singapore?”
“They are representing the Crown’s interest. It’s supposed to be a trading post to expand the tea trade routes and other goods.”They’re trying to multiply our fortune and avoid me at the same time.
Opium came to mind. It was the most coveted good the English wanted to import, even though tea masked the shipments perfectly. Alfie knew this well from his apprenticeships in India, which was a frequented port for the English ships on their return.
“They are ashamed of me,” Bea murmured.
“Ashamed. Of you.” Alfie felt the bitterness in her voice like a punch in the stomach, yet his mind could not grasp the absurdity.
“It’s because of the beast. The inner fury, Mother says. No virtue can mask it when it comes out, and they think it’s why I haven’t had any offers yet.”
Ridiculous. It was nothing but a rash. It wasn’t a punishment or a result of her lack of…whatever it was that her parents thought she lacked. But that’s what she had been told, enough times that she believed she was at fault for the affliction that plagued her. “But you have, haven’t you?”
“Four-and-twenty. Mother doesn’t know I turned them all down, but Father won’t allow me to turn another down when he returns. Which will be soon, and I’m not wed.”And I’d rather run away than accept one of the aristocrats at Almack’s who’d lock me up when I have the hives—perhaps even when I don’t. I won’t let them keep me in a gilded cage.
Alfie’s heart plummeted. She was so far out of his reach; he’d known it all along. But the beauty of the Ton had already rejected several titled men, most of them probably handsome, young, and rich—there just wasn’t any ground for Alfie to compete.
“Can I help you?” Alfie asked when Bea dragged a chair to the cupboard.
“Yes, tell me where this plate goes, please.” She juggled three cups, precariously perched atop a tower of saucers in her hand. When she stretched, the hem of her dress rode up, and Alfie could see her slim ankles as Bea raised up on her toes to reach the shelf. The fabric of her dress lay in folds over her bottom, accentuating the perfect curve in a way that left little to the imagination and yet stimulated the most tantalizing thoughts in Alfie’s mind.
Suddenly, the dishes crashed onto the tiled floor with a merciless clatter, shards of porcelain scattering on the dark tiles. As each piece skidded before Alfie’s feet, the jarring crash echoed off the walls—a harsh reminder of how easily something whole could come apart, leaving nothing but scattered pieces in its wake. That’s what would happen if he laid his hand on Lady Beatrice.Bea.
No!He mustn’t think of her as Bea. But since he’d kissed her, he couldn’t help it. She was as out of reach as the cups on the top shelf, and if he overreached, shards with sharp edges would make him bleed.
One saucer spun away, twirled on the tiles, rolled on its edge, and fell over.
“Oh, look!” Bea darted toward it, probably attempting to retrieve it. But she stepped on a sharp piece of porcelain and slipped.
With the spontaneous surge of a lion jumping to catch an antelope in mid-air, Alfie lunged forward, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close and away from the broken dishes.
The safety of his hold contrasted sharply with the chaos around them. Holding her felt so right that order was restored. They stood around the ruins of their mishap, her breath quick in the silence that followed. In that moment, amidst the shards of their accident, something fragile yet unbroken passed between them.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her breath light and sweet.
