Page 93 of The Scent of Intuition
Confusion reigned as she tried to grasp the implications of Alfie’s actions. Upset mingled with astonishment; how could he dismiss her plans and fears with a single, swift motion? Yet, amidst this tumult of feelings, a part of her couldn’t deny the protective fervor in his eyes, a fervor that both alarmed and strangely comforted her.
The garden, with its verdant beauty, suddenly felt like a constricting cage, as she became acutely aware of her parents’ eyes upon them, witnesses to Alfie’s brazen act of devotion. The scandal of it all—the sheer impropriety of Alfie’s kiss—left her speechless, her mind a whirlpool of questions with no anchor.
Just as she gathered the frayed edges of her composure, attempting to string together a coherent thought, Stan stepped through the double doors. His arrival, commanding and poised, sliced through the tension like a knife.
“Bea,” he called, his voice a beacon in the stormy sea of her thoughts.
Bea’s heart lurched, torn between duty and desire, her future hanging in the balance. In that moment, she knew the eyes of every soul in attendance were fixed upon her, waiting for her to take the next step in this unforeseen dance of destiny.
“Oh, Alfie, hullo.” Stan had reached the spot in the garden where they stood, Bea’s future teetering between the life she’d been groomed for and the life she’d secretly forged before her parents returned.
“Your Royal Highness.” Her father’s eyes grew wide, and he stood in front of Alfie, his back to him and Bea as if their presence brought him shame.
“Stan, you know my parents?” Bea stepped in front of her father and curtsied. It was an act more informal than her interaction with Stan required since they’d become friends and colleagues—an unmistakable signal to be cautious.
Stan’s eyes met hers for a moment and he gave a faint nod, then bowed and greeted her parents. “We have been formally introduced already, Lady Beatrice. We’ve been working together.”
“Messengers. Supervisors. He’s the better diplomat.” Father raised his eyebrows in appreciation of Stan. Bea’s eyes shot to Stan.
“It’s complicated and I will tell you in time. But I don’t mind the dangerous parts,” Stan said.
“Dangerous?” Alfie wrapped his arm around Bea and pulled her to him.
Bea shook her head. But she didn’t know how to act and where to begin to explain to her parents that she worked with Stan and had fallen in love with Alfie. It was too much to package into words with her fear that her parents never forgave her transgressions. Everything they’d taught her, everything they’dhoped she’d become, she’d twisted into something to suit her own whims and was sure to disappoint them. And this was Pippa’s wedding day, not the moment to break her parents’ hearts.
“Your Royal Highness, it is with—”
But Stan interrupted Bea’s father. “Alfie, we are ready to cut the cake. Bea, Pippa has asked for you.” It seemed as though Stan and Alfie had exchanged unspoken words and reached an understanding.
“Who is this man?” Bea’s mother called in a shrill voice as if she couldn’t fathom the scandal of Alfie’s arm around Bea after he’d kissed her boldly before them.
“Certainly, Lady Wetherby. He’s the best apothecary in England, perhaps even in all of Europe,” Stan said.
Alfie cleared his throat, but his gaze was as dark as Bea had feared it to be when he stood behind her.
“Have I interrupted anything?” Stan’s eyes jumped from Bea’s to Alfie’s and then he narrowed this gaze when he saw the pallor on Mother’s face. “Oh dear, he was asking for your hand and I… oh, I am so sorry I intruded.” Stan inclined his head, unaware he’d misinterpreted the situation. “Lord Wetherby, I assure you that there isn’t a better man in the world for your daughter, and I hope that you will accept my well-wishes if I am the first to congratulate your family.”
Oh dear, Stan thought Alfie was asking for her hand while her parents wanted Stan…oh dear, oh dear…
Father inhaled sharply, and his eyes grew so big it was as if they were about to pop out of his head.
“He ruined your last chance to tame the beast,” Mother cried, fanning herself frantically. It was as if she hadn’t heard Stan speaking at all, or noticed Alfie’s arm around her waist. “There’s no other cure and none we can find for you before you’re too old to marry!”
“Which beast?” Stan asked Alfie over Bea’s head, grimacing as if none of her mother’s outburst made any sense.
“Beatrice, explain yourself,” her mother demanded.
“Allow me.” Alfie stepped forward. “You almost killed her!”
“What happened here?” Stan asked, unable to hide his confusion.
Bea was frozen to the spot on the grass, her heels sinking into the earth as the blades ripped underneath and she wished she could disappear into the earth like a raindrop falling onto dry soil never to be seen again.
“I overheard you. I was upstairs.” Alfie pointed at the balcony on the upper floor. “Cinnabar is a source ore for refining elemental mercury. It’s been used since the ancient Romans made vermillion-red with it, and I’ve used it many times in tinctures to cure syphilis.”
“Who is this?” Father seethed.
“Syphilis?” Stan asked, giving Alfie a grave look.
