Page 17 of A Touch of Charm
“What?”
“I don’t know what else to call it. It’s a new sound he made, a cry combined with a deep sort of—”
“Grunt?”
“How do you know?”
“I thought this was his sensational cry of disappointment especially reserved for me,” Stan said.
“Well, his look truly broke my heart but solidified my resolve.”
“Oh, Thea.”
“It did! He looked at me as if I had died in his eyes and as if I had stooped so low that he was the victim of a daughter for whom he’d done everything right to ensure my success, and yet the disappointment of me as a failure was too much to bear.”
“Because you gave away the only chance to help our family.”
“By marrying Prince Ralph?”
“No. Yes. Well, that charter of yours, it’s not a new idea. I’ve been trying to align our allies and pressure our trading partners to agree to such a charter—well, a treaty actually.”
“Good! So you can use some of the text that I’ve drafted if you like.”
“Not if there is no reason to pressure our enemies into signing it. And if word gets out that you’ve lost your virtue, then only Alex’s alliance with the English tradesman Lyndon can help us.”
Thea stood and her arms grew cold as realization chilled her to the bone. Her mind raced, as Stan’s words crashed over her like a relentless tide. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms, grounding herself against the pain of her thoughts.
The dim room felt stifling, the air thick with the consequences of her rashness. Candlelight flickered, throwing her shadow against the wall—a stark silhouette of her turmoil. Each decision replayed in her mind—a cascade of missteps that now threatened the very fabric of her family’s alliances. Her brother Alex’s happiness hung in the balance, tangled in the web of her making.
“What happened?” Andre suddenly appeared with a flask in hand.
“Ask her,” Stan said grumpily.
But Thea didn’t want to admit to her selfishness and avoided the handsome doctor’s discerning gaze.
“Well, here’s something for the night in case the incision pains you.” Andre handed Stan the flask and then gave a curt bow. “Please let me know if you need anything tonight. I’ll be back to check on Stan.”
As Andre turned to leave, Thea retreated into her room without another word to Stan. She left the door ajar to keep an eye on Mary, who slept peacefully. Envy flickered in her heart at the sight of Mary’s innocent rest, yet Thea was relieved knowing they were secure at 87 Harley Street. Despite the chaos in her mind, Andre’s presence offered a deep, instinctual sense of safety that she couldn’t ignore. He was a miracle in a time of need—not only because he’d treated Stan’s shoulder, but also because there was something about him that anchored her, so she didn’t panic given her troubled situation.
The image of his steady hands and the warmth in his voice had woven themselves into her consciousness, offering a solace she hadn’t expected. And somehow, she thought that the handsome doctor could offer even more than that.
Chapter Seven
Andre moved purposefullythrough the dimly lit kitchen, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the stone walls.
He had royal guests.
Royal.
A prince and a princess.
He selected a plate and began to gather an assortment of foods: a handful of walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts, each one gleaming in the soft light. He set the kettle on the stove and brewed some peppermint tea, its deep amber hue promising warmth and comfort after the brutal attack and the injuries of the night. The plump and sweet grapes found their place beside the spiced biscuits that Felix had meticulously baked before they’d left for the wedding. He wanted to offer his royal guests some comforting nourishment rather than the stinging scent of witch hazel and the clove oil that hung in the air.
Treating the nobility as long as nobody knew who he was was one thing. But if they stayed with him overnight, they were somehow closer, which felt more dangerous. What if anyone found out that he wasn’t merely Dr. Andre Fernando?
He’d never lied about who he was, but why did his omission about his heritage feel like a lie?
As Stan’s doctor, he welcomed the opportunity to be close in case Stan became feverish throughout the night or if the stitches didn’t hold.
