Page 17 of The Scent of Intuition
“It’s the toll of beauty,” Mother used to say. “A reminder that there needs to be time to hone your other qualities when you cannot show your face in Society until you tame the inner fury.”
But Bea had always wished her mother wouldn’t focus on the beast so much.
For as long as Bea could remember, when the beast emerged, she would have to retreat for a few weeks, seclude herself, and hone her ladylike skills. In fact, her entire life had been about honing the skills a lady needed. And since her debut, which had been delayed by a journey to India, she had suffered only a few episodes and made marvelous connections at the balls and at Almack’s, never sitting out a single dance when she was in attendance.
Bea returned to the embroidery and picked up a new threading yarn, a deep shade of turquoise. Then, she began stitching a second layer of leaves in the circle on her frame.
Waiting for a chance to dance with the prince would take too long. Now that Violet had introduced them, she had a chance tospeak with him more freely. The conventional methods wouldn’t do; there wasn’t enough time.
Pippa was getting married, and she’d be alone. Where should she live once Cloverdale House was converted to a rehabilitation center? Her parents would return—well, nobody could know precisely when. Soon, she’d be shelved among the spinsters while her cousin would have the dashing oculist to dance with at the balls.
No, she’d rested on her laurels far too long, and Violet was right. This was the chance of a lifetime. If only the beast hadn’t reared its ugly head. She had to do something, though.
She could be a princess. And with a bit of luck, Stan would take her far away.
But to sweep her off her feet, he needed to love her. Or at least feel a modicum of infatuation beyond mere inclination to commit to her.
Thus, she had to make him fall in love in two weeks.
Bea looked down at her embroidery and swallowed hard. The combination of dark turquoise with green silk shimmered in the light of her chamber in the same colors as his eyes.
Alfie’s eyes.
Couldhehelp her?
I’ll expect you to harvest the orange blossoms for neroli oil tomorrow.
Oh no!
Bea looked at the clock. It was nearly seven in the evening. If Alfie had come during the day, she’d missed him.
She was on a diplomatic mission and had already fallen behind.
As the evening dragged on and night had fallen, Bea had waited for her cousin, but Pippa hadn’t returned home. Bea had a good idea of where her cousin was, and she was happy for her.
Later, as Bea lay in her bed, the weight of impending decisions pressing down on her chest like a physical burden, her thoughts churned in restless circles, each one more desperate than the last. Time was slipping through her fingers, and with her parents’ imminent return, the noose of an unwanted betrothal tightened. She couldn’t afford the luxury of waiting for her rash to heal or hoping for a prolonged courtship. This time, she needed to act swiftly and decisively, juggling the fine line between her duty and her heart’s desire.
The thought of her cousin’s wedding loomed over her—a deadline not just for celebration but for securing her own future. Bea could see it. Pippa would be with Nick, perhaps strolling hand-in-hand through Marylebone. They would share knowing smiles and be the picture of true love. Bea stared at the ceiling as her thoughts raced ahead.
Her mind played out an imaginary conversation with Alfie, his voice a soothing yet pragmatic anchor in the storm of her thoughts.
“Be practical,” he might advise, urging her to consider every option logically. Then she could hear Pippa, whose voice whispered of intuition and following one’s heart. Torn between conflicting counsels, Bea got out of bed to study the maps in her atlas once again, tracing the journey to Transylvania and Bran Castle, where Prince Stan was from. Was he the answer?
Bea’s eyes flickered over the map’s legends, her mind mapping out the journey, even as her heart wavered. She flipped through the pages with a deliberate urgency, searching for more details about Transylvania and its surrounding areas.
Pippa’s voice in her head was still telling her to listen to her intuition.
Intuition, Bea thought. If only she could hear it calling to her.
With a sigh, she plopped back onto her bed, closing her eyes in frustration. It wasn’t the exotic allure of a far-off landthat captivated her thoughts at all. Instead, the intoxicating memory of Alfie’s scent from the ball—an earthy, masculine aroma that was distinctly his—embedded itself deeper into her consciousness as a silent plea for clarity amidst chaos.
Finally, exhaustion took hold, and Bea drifted into a fitful sleep, the weight of her worries momentarily lifting.
When she awoke the next morning, a newfound clarity and resolve coursed through her veins as if the dawn itself had rekindled her spirit. Bea couldn’t quite name the reckless impulse that drove her feet toward the apothecary’s shop, but she’d woken up with the urge to consult Alfie. At about eight in the morning, wearing a veiled hat to hide her disfiguration, she left Cloverdale House on Abbotsbury Road and took the carriage to Marylebone, getting dropped off at thePatisserie de la Loireunder the pretense of purchasing some pastries. She didn’t want the driver to know where she was going lest her courage falter. She couldn’t explain why she was going to the practice when she was needed at home to help Pippa with wedding plans.
But Bea knew that Pippa’s wedding plans were not hers to worry about. Truly, the choice of flowers or music mattered little now that Pippa’s most important choice—her groom—was made. Bea was now one step behind her cousin and running to catch up.
With each minute, the itch worsened, and Bea felt her face heating. It might have been because of the beastly rash or perhaps because of the violent thrumming in her chest. Her heart quickened when 87 Harley Street appeared before her, where the apothecary’s shop nestled quaintly. This was no simple errand; it felt more like a pilgrimage to a shrine she hadn’t known she worshipped.Could he… would he… be able to help her?
