Page 101 of A Touch of Charm
“A Viennese ball. For an engagement.”
“I see.” The older man turned his head down.
Then he slumped some more.
“Are you making me ask, or may I congratulate you now?”
“You may,” Andre smiled. “Thank you.”
The tailor waved off the formalities, his eyes twinkling with gratitude and excitement. “You saved me from a fate worse than poorly sewn seams. Now, let’s get you suited for the evening, shall we?”
Andre stood straight on a wooden stool a minute later, allowing the tailor to begin his work. The feel of the tape against his shoulders was familiar, and he welcomed the distraction. “I trust you’ll work to make me look less like a man taming wild horses?” Andre teased lightly. “I come with specific criteria from my sister and fiancée.” It was the first time he’d called Thea that and his chest filled with pride.
The older man chuckled. “If I had your build, Dr. Fernando, I wouldn’t hide any of it. But I understand the request and shall oblige. Leave it to me; you’ll be the best-dressed man at the ball. Indeed,” Hollingsworth replied with a wink. “But I must admit, I have a selfish motive. Dressing you well reflects splendidly on me.”
They laughed, the camaraderie easing the tension that had clung to Andre’s thoughts since the afternoon’s events. Here, he found peace among the bolts of fabric and the rhythmic snip of scissors. But he still wondered how he could best keep Thea safe among the bustling crowd at the ball.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The next day,Thea felt lighthearted and was glad to hold Andre.
“These madeleines are delicious,” Thea said, clinging onto Andre’s arm as they stepped back up the low stairs to the practice. “They’re just the right amount of sweet,” she said, when Andre handed her the little parcel with the extra pastries for Mary.
“You are just the right amount of sweet,” he said with a glint in his eyes that made her heart skip.
Andre pushed the door open, and they stepped into the waiting room. Just when Thea wanted to set the parcel aside and take her gloves off, Nurse Wendy and Alfie, the apothecary, stepped out into the hall.
“Andre, there’s someone waiting for you in your treatment room,” Wendy said.
She was usually the one to assign patients, but at this hour?
“Aren’t we supposed to get ready for the ball?” Thea asked when she saw the confusion on Andre’s face.
“It’s an emergency,” Alfie said and gave Andre a meaningful nod.
Thea observed her with growing curiosity. Wendy was not a woman easily flustered; her urgency hinted at the severity of the situation. Before she had the chance to reflect further, the door opened, and Andre pushed his sleeves up just a touch, as though he’d already been hard at work. His gaze flickered from Wendy to the end of the hall.
Thea saw Andre’s demeanor change, she recognized it now. When he was needed as a doctor, there was nothing that could hold him back. Thus, she followed him down the hall to his room, Nick, the oculist appeared from his room. And down the stairs came Felix, the dentist.
“Is he here?” Felix said, and then smiled when he spotted Andre.
How oddly the doctors were all behaving. How terrible could the emergency be that only Andre was able to take the patient on?
The smell of polished wood and faintly medicinal tinctures filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the early afternoon sun spilling through the tall windows. The hall buzzed with quiet activity—everyone strode purposefully through the hall, their boots echoing slightly on the wooden floors, while they followed Andre to his room.
“Wendy, you said there was a patient who needed me immediately?” Andre asked.
And then time stood still. The industrious hum turned to silence. Andre was frozen in the doorway of his room, and two women waited inside.
“I said it was an emergency,” Alfie corrected him.
But Andre didn’t seem to hear him anymore.
“Anna,” he said simply, his tone steady. He slipped past Thea without sparing so much as a glance, his focus entirely on the woman who stood next to his sister.
“What’s going on?” Thea asked, her voice cutting through the low murmur of the room. She glanced between Andre, Anna, and the woman she’d never seen before—her posture elegant but reserved, her hands clasped tightly together, the fingers almost bloodless with force. There was something unmistakably familiar about her features.
Thea’s breath caught as realization dawned. She recognized those same sharp cheekbones, that same determined set of the jaw. They belonged to Andre. This must be his mother. Anna turned to Thea, whose expression had shifted from curiosity to stunned awareness.
