Page 77 of The Scent of Intuition
List let out a soft laugh. “That’s quite the accusation. But I assure you, I have no involvement in such matters whether they are underway or not.”
“Forests along borders are the most fertile grounds for smugglers,” Alfie said, picking up his glass and swirling the dark liquid in it. The whiff of the potent mixture reminded him of the smells in his apothecary. It was an infusion of courage to press on. With each trick won or lost, the game revealed more about the characters involved. The baron’s composure held, but tiny cracks began to show.
Alfie watched as Bea shot a glance toward Violet, a silent communication passing between them. Both women came to the table, Violet assuming a position behind her husband and Bea—to Alfie’s chagrin—between the prince and him.
Matters were made worse when her scent—the one he’d created for her to capture her prince—wafted to his nostrils, making it hard to focus on the baron, even as the footman came and administered the fourth glass to List.
But then a vein popped up on the baron’s forehead and it began to beat vehemently. It took all of Alfie’s willpower not to leap up to check List’s pulse. But then he noticed that there was a glimmer of evil in List’s eyes that was more pronounced as he grew increasingly uninhibited. Finally the serum was working effectively to reveal what usually lay hidden.
Alfie wasn’t proud of himself for supplying the serum and helping the earl and the prince administer it without List’s consent in spite of Felix’s and Andre’s protests. What was worse was that he’d given Bea a similar potion to woo the prince. What should have been a skill set to create healing mixtures had become instruments of intrigue and manipulation.
Alfie couldn’t help but loathe himself. Nothing should be worth betraying his integrity as a man of medicine and science,even though List’s political games were endangering his Jewish friends.
Perhaps Alfie had helped the prince and the earl to take justice into their own hands, but that wouldn’t have been necessary if the authorities had done it. In a way, they were stepping up for those who didn’t have rights and protections under the law, because their Jewish friends, Felix included, had scarce legal standing in England. None in continental Europe, Alfie remembered from his classes at his university. And if people like List and King Max of Bavaria received more sway, they would skew injustice even further in their favor. It wasn’t right.
Still, even if the ends justified the means, Alfie wished he’d never gotten himself into this tangle. He’d become an apothecary to help people with their health, not poison them and never to engage in political intrigue. Or, potentially, murder.
List brought the glass to his mouth and took another swig.
Alfie focused on the dosage—too little, and Baron von List could still weave lies; too much, and the man’s heart might race out of control, leading to death.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bea’s gaze metViolet’s as she nodded subtly, her fingers tightening on the back of her husband’s chair, when the footman placed the crystal stopper on the decanter. Only a small amount, perhaps a glass and a half, was left. Bea should have been astonished at List’s composure; he certainly held his liquor. Was it time to push him to talk?
But as the game of whist continued, the serum barely seemed to take hold. While List’s German accent became stronger, his breaths came faster and sweat beaded on his forehead, tracing a path down his temple, he wasn’t giving the impression of losing control over his composure. It didn’t appear he would say anything incriminating yet—nothing useful for Stan.
The room was filled with the low hum of haughty chatter and crystal glasses clinking. Although the setting was lavish—golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the opulent décor, the scent of rich tobacco and expensive liquor mingling in the air, Bea had not yet had the chance to prove her worth as an associate for Stan’s espionage. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. This was more than a game; it was an opportunity to gather vital intelligence. For the first time in her life, Bea felt a purpose for all of her years of mingling among the Ton and a use for making small talk and meaningless, polite chatter.
Though now, List’s words echoed in her mind, heavy with the weight of their implications. The conflict along the borders was far more nuanced than simple territorial disputes. It was acomplex web of personal vendettas, long-standing feuds, and a hunger for power that drove the Prussians and Austrians to such lengths. Understanding this required not only a keen awareness of the geopolitical climate but also an ear to the ground for the latest gossip that could change alliances overnight.
“What benefits the Bavarians in forming an alliance with the House of the Habsburgs?” she asked, feigning a prim smile and the naïvety of a debutante. It was a role she’d perfected.
“Och, immer das selbe, always the same. It’s what Max said before, everything costs more and more.”
Stan raised his chin, and Bea noticed that he’d missed his turn to play a card when he turned to Alfie and cast him a questioning look. “What do you think he’s referring to?”
Alfie nodded at his cards. He didn’t betray the undercurrent of communication between them.
But he also didn’t make eye contact with Bea again, and that stung.
“Max has done so much for Bavaria already; it’s flourishing these days.Ein Schlaraffenland! A land of milk and honey.” He chuckled. “And beer!”
“Bavarian beer is rather different from our own,” the earl said, apparently for good measure. Bea understood right away that he was gearing the conversation away from food and drink and toward national interests. They were on course to explore where exactly the collision of interests would occur.
And hopefully, List wouldn’t remember any of this on the morrow.
“Nicht hier!”Not here!List cursed and hit the table with his fist and lay his cards flat on their faces. He was losing his poise.
Bea held her breath at the outburst—did he mean the cards or international relations?
“The beer in England doesn’t deserve the name.” He shook his head, beads of sweat making their way down his hairline tohis eyes, the only part of him that had remained pale. “You know how much an acre of hop costs these days? And the workers harvest so slowly on the hills.”
Stan narrowed his eyes. “Where does the money come from for the new crops?”
“Och,” List turned the corners of his mouth down. “Here and there.”
“I heard about the issue with the Carpathian Mountains,” Bea said to Violet with a nod that meantplay along. On their perch behind the men they were in view of the baron and yet, as women, they could speak any amount of nonsense without incurring any suspicion of their intent. This was a great time to take advantage of List’s prejudice against women, it was good to go underestimated. She knew he didn’t have a magnanimous view of her gender; he hadn’t even greeted her when she’d entered the drawing room.
