Page 83 of A Touch of Charm
Anna clung to Andre, her fingers digging into his coat as if she feared he might vanish again. The room seemed to hold its breath, the only sound being the rustle of Anna’s silk gown as it brushed against Andre’s boots.
Thea watched, her brow furrowing slightly.
Yet here he was, holding Anna with a desperation that was raw and unrestrained, just as Stan had when the highwaymen had captured Thea.
“Oh, Thea, please pardon me,” Anna wiped tears from her face. “I didn’t expect ever to see him again.”
Thea’s confusion deepened. She had heard whispers of André’s past, tales of loss and sorrow that had shaped the man she had known. But seeing him now, reunited with a sister presumed lost, she realized how little she truly understood.
“Do you remember the brother I mentioned to you?”
“You mentioned me?” Andre shot a look at Thea as if afraid a secret had been divulged.
It had.
“Yes,” Thea stammered. “The Habsburg brother who was born too early?”
Andre swallowed hard and slumped his shoulders. “That’s me. I’m the bastard.”
Then his gaze lifted to Thea, but there was an ocean between them.
Andre—a Habsburg? The enormity of it pressed down on her, making the fragile hope that had budded between them feel like a foolish misstep. His lineage, so near to royalty, was a chasm she could not cross because she was promised to some other distant relation of his. Yet, no matter how her mind tried to armor itself with reason, her heart would not listen. It betrayed her every time, pulling her thoughts back to him with a yearning she couldn’t quite voice.
It wasn’t just the power of his parentage that weighed upon her; it was what itmeant. If Andre weren’t born too early, he’d be a Habsburg, and she could… but he wasn’t, and that was almost worse than what she’d thought earlier, that he was just a commoner.
Her duty, her family’s expectations—those unyielding forces that would make love a reckless impossibility—had he hidden who he was on purpose? Did he even see it? Understand it? She doubted it, not when he looked at her with such disarming sincerity or kissed her as though nothing else mattered. Her chest ached with the memory, fraught with longing and fear in equal measure. She wanted so much to believe and trust the sparks between them at that moment, but doubt coiled around her like an unforgiving chain. How could something so beautiful survive the cold, unspoken laws of society—laws that reminded her of exactly who she was and why he could never truly be hers?
Thea inhaled the soft scent of roses mingling with the faint bitterness of tea, a delicate tether to the moment as she took in the scene before her. She felt like an outsider, an intruder on something sacred, yet she couldn’t stop looking away. The siblings’ reunion was a quiet testament to the strength of love and family—a bond that endured time and loss, a bond that only deepened her own sense of isolation. How cruel it seemed that such love could flourish for them while hers felt doomed to wither before it even began. It had been one thing to love a doctor, a commoner who’d earned an honest living and much respect through skill.
It was another problem entirely to fall for a bastard Habsburg son while she was promised to a Habsburg prince. Scandals at London balls ruined lives. What she’d done could wage wars.
Andre finally released Anna, stepping back slightly but keeping her hands clasped in his. His usually controlled voice was thick with emotion. “I thought you were gone forever.”
Anna smiled through her tears, her grip on Andre’s hands unwavering. “And I believed you to be lost to me.” Her words hung in the air, resonant with the weight of years spent apart.
Thea took a deep breath, feeling the sun’s warmth on her skin as it peeked through the window. She realized that this moment, filled with unexpected joy and raw emotion, had changed everything. For Andre, for Anna, and perhaps even for her.
Aware that she was, for now, forgotten, Thea slipped out of the room and left the happy siblings to share their joy…without her.
Chapter Thirty
They talked forhours. Andre told Anna about his studies in Vienna, his apprenticeship in India, and how he started the practice at 87 Harley Street with his friends. In turn, Anna told him about her marriage, that her father had been appointed professor emeritus in Edinburgh and lived there with her mother. She even told him how she fell from the horse and broke her leg.
They’d exhausted every possible way to search for each other in secret, out of fear, yet Thea finally brought them together.
“Where is she?” Andre asked.
“She left us alone to speak, I suppose.”
Or perhaps she left because she realized I could ruin her beyond ruination. The Habsburg bastard was even lower in rank than the orthopedist without any links to the aristocracy.
“I’m going home to plan the ball. There’s still much to be done.”
“Are you quite certain that you feel ready to return home?” Andre asked when his sister gripped his arm tightly in a shaky effort to rise from her chair. He handed her one of the crutches, leaning against the wall.
She winced. “This hurts my arms,” she said, reluctantly taking the crutch.
“You’re not ready to go home alone,” Andre said.
