Page 72 of The Scent of Intuition
She blinked at him, but the sun hung low and was too bright, making Stan look like no more than a dark silhouette. The carriage turned around a curb, and Bea glanced again.
Then her stomach lurched.
ItwasAlfie.
With a shaggy brown dog. Chromius.
She’d recognize the dog anywhere.
And the man with those strong shoulders, narrow waist, and the way he combed his hands through his curly hair.
“Lady Beatrice?”
Bea turned to Stan and eyed him curiously. He was handsome in the classic sense, clean-shaven, with dark eyes, she suspected had seen more of the world than he’d care to admit.
But he wasn’t Alfie.
He didn’t have the same turquoise eyes that sparkled like emeralds around the obsidian circle of his pupils when he looked at her.
Why did Stan look at her so intently?
Bea jerked her head back and withdrew when Stan leaned in, closed his eyes, and—oh no!
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chromius trotted ahead,his leash taut between Alfie’s fingers, when suddenly, through the break in the trees, Alfie saw a carriage approaching. His heart leaped into his throat as he recognized Bea inside, deep in conversation with Prince Stan. The prince’s refined profile contrasted sharply with Bea’s animated expression, her eyes focused and bright. Alfie’s grip tightened on Chromius’ leash, knuckles whitening, as a wave of jealousy and sorrow crashed over him.
Hours ago, he’d held her in his arms and now she was in this carriage pursuing her plan with the prince as if he was naught.
Alfie swallowed bile but the bitterness crept up his throat; he couldn’t even speak to Chromius.
His stomach twisted into painful knots, and he felt a profound sense of loss as he watched Bea with the prince.
He should have been in that carriage with her, not standing amidst the linden trees, an outsider looking in on the life he desperately wanted to share with Bea.
And wasn’t he the stupid man who’d handed her the rifle to shoot him by giving her a potion that would make her irresistible to the prince.
How could he face the prince later that day?
There he was, ready to help the prince fight the good fight, but his true calling felt missed, slipping through his fingers like sand.
Alfie tugged gently on Chromius’ leash, signaling the dog to turn back. The weight of what he had just seen pressedheavily on his chest, yet he knew there was nothing he could do about it now. Bea’s place was in that carriage with Prince Stan, but Alfie couldn’t allow himself to become paralyzed by his heartbreak. He had a duty to fulfill, one that transcended his personal desires. Felix’s future depended on uncovering Baron von List’s secrets, and Alfie couldn’t let his friend’s fate hang in uncertainty.
As he walked, the warm air brushed against his face, providing a fleeting comfort amid the turmoil within him. He squared his shoulders, steeling himself for the task ahead. It didn’t feel good, but it was the right course of action. Perhaps in aiding Prince Stan, Alfie might find some semblance of redemption or clarity. The mission was fraught with danger and intrigue, but it was one he had to see through. If there was any chance that the prince could help him—whether through influence, information, or sheer force—then Alfie was determined to seize it. His love for Bea prevented him from getting in her way but his loyalty to Felix compelled him forward, igniting a flicker of purpose within the darkness of his despair.
*
Bea had coatedherself with much more love potion than Alfie had advised.
She was burning for Alfie, but she had to find a way to leave England before her parents returned and found a husband for her who’d keep her tied to the Ton forever. And if anyone knew about her wanton misstep with Alfie, she’d be ruined.
And Bea was getting hot.
She was ruined.
But she wanted more.
She was too hot for her taste and eager to escape, for this wasn’t the same sizzling warmth that spread throughout her as when Alfie was close; it was the type of heat that made you cringe when you burned your tongue on too-hot tea.
