Page 58 of A Touch of Charm
And then someone came to mind she thought she might like quite a lot.
Chapter Twenty
Andre didn’t wantto be the next bad choice in Thea’s life. The weight of her past, the quiet pain that lingered in her words, was enough to make him tread carefully. Yet care wasn’t something he could give sparingly, not to Thea—or her family.
After their conversation in the orangery the previous night, Andre couldn’t sleep and stayed with Stan, who’d been shivering beneath the thin covering, his skin pale and clammy. Andre knew hesitation had no place there. The fever had worsened, and the wound—raw and angry looking—had deepened its hold. Any delay was a risk he could not allow.
Thea came to look after her brother in the morning when Andre stepped out to get the post, and more ice for Stan’s wound. Returning to Cloverdale, he went to call on Stan.
“I sent a message to the others. Soon, we will have a backup at Cloverdale House and the practice. I’m not going to let Thea out of sight,” Andre told his friend when he woke up.
“Did Alex send word? Is he coming?” Stan asked. Beads of sweat from the fever ran down his forehead, but he shivered through the cold chills.
“Indeed, there’s a letter for you.” Andre handed him the note and watched Stan scan the words.
“He’ll be here soon,” Stan said with palpable relief and plopped his head back on the pillow.
There was a commotion outside and within a few seconds, Thea and Mary appeared with solemn faces.
“How is he?” Thea had been so strong, so composed, but the strain in her eyes had betrayed her fear. She bore it well, as though she’d carried far heavier burdens before. But Andre could see now—this, Stan’s suffering, her family’s shadow—it wasn’t a weight she should carry alone.
“I’m here for whatever you both need,” Andre said when he watched Stan hand Thea their brother’s note.
For Thea’s sake, for her peace more than her gratitude, Andre resolved to look after Stan with all his might. Whatever it took, he’d give her one less thing to fear, even if it meant risking being too close, being another piece of her life she might one day regret. Sometimes, doing the right thing wasn’t about avoiding mistakes but about showing up when needed most.
And today, Thea needed him, whether she realized it or not.
“Nurse Shira will be here momentarily,” Andre said when he glanced at the clock.
“We are going shopping,” Thea declared when Andre eyed the notes for the Bavarian and French lords who would need his care, too.
“I beg your pardon?”
“She’s right. There’ll be a ball for Alex’s engagement. We need to be a united front,” Stan said, his teeth clattering under the cold chills.
Andre cleared his throat. “You are planning for a ball while he has a dangerous fever, and Baron von List is out there threatening your—”
But Thea didn’t let Andre finish. “I can’t spend another day in the same dress. It’s time for a change. Let’s go!” Thea didn’t let go of the doorknob and stood in Andre’s way. For a moment, she was so close that… no, he wouldn’t.
“She’s right. Balls, dances, all of our finery—it’s no different from the armor we need in a battle.” Stan waved as if Thea had to go sharpen her swords indeed, even if they were made of lace and silk. “We all need to be ready!” Stan’s gaze met Thea’s, and Andre knew that all he could do was to follow her and ensure her safety. There was no changing her mind.
“Will you be alright?” Thea asked one more time.
Stan nodded and pulled the blanket up to his chin.
On their way out, Nurse Shira already had clean towels ready and gave the servants instructions for an ice bath for Stan’s feet. He was in good hands.
“I’ll go wherever you go,” he said and saw Mary slip through the door that Thea had blocked but kept ajar. The little girl was giddy with excitement about the outing.
“I hired a hackney carriage.”
“We call it a hired hack in London,” Andre chuckled and flicked the rim of his hat that he’d just put on and buttoned his coat. “After you.” He opened the door and helped Thea in. Mary followed, and he lifted her into the carriage.
A few minutes later, Andre stepped out of Bond Street’s bustling flow into the cool, inviting interior of Madame Duchon’s, the best dressmaker and millinery shop with an attached haberdashery. The shop’s bell tinkled softly above his head, a delicate chime that announced his entrance without disrupting the serene atmosphere inside. He pushed the door open so that Thea and Mary could enter ahead of him. Once inside, the rich scent of polished wood and lavender sachets enveloped him, a welcome contrast to the sooty London air outside.
“Oh my!” Mary clapped her hands together and swayed toward a shimmering pink fabric hanging over the back of a chair.
Thea, in contrast, nodded appreciatively.
