Page 45 of The Scent of Intuition
Chapter Nineteen
Another day hadpassed, and the practice had been a flurry of activity but not the usual sort. Sample flower arrangements, wines for the ball following the wedding, and embossed invitations had come and gone alongside a blur of patients and other deliveries. The only constant was the image in Alfie’s mind of the moment in the orangery when Bea had turned away from him and run away. A flicker of hurt had washed over her features, and he hadn’t seen her again. There hadn’t been an opportunity to seek her out, and he couldn’t approach her father and ask if he may court her. First, because her father was somewhere in Singapore or someplace else and out of reach. Second, her father would never give permission if he knew Bea stood a chance of a marrying a prince.
But neither of those concerns mattered if he didn’t get permission from Bea first.
Still, Pippa had been right. History didn’t allow him to rewind time, so there was no alternative but to go forward. He hadn’t decided how to accomplish that yet. He had to tell her he loved her… but could he tell her he’d known her all this time—since their days in India?
He wished he could not merely offer his heart, but also present a solution to their greatest problem, their differing class status. One could say “love was love” and that was all that mattered, yet the issue of gentry joining aristocracy was not a small one. He knew he had to be cautious, and absolutely sure, that it was what Bea wanted.
And that’s where doubt gnawed at his resolve because she had asked for a love potion to use for the prince.
He wanted to tell her of his feelings but if she was determined to woo—or worse, seduce—the prince, then Alfie had no right to attempt to change her mind. Especially if he loved her; he had to respect her desires for her decisions—even if they hurt him.
He was stuck and that made him angry… at himself or the world, he wasn’t sure.
Alfie walked out of his apothecary door during a lull in business, and saw a swish of a white apron disappearing into the back corridor, followed by an unsettling gasp.Wendy.
He’d known her since she was a girl, and even though he’d tried to alert Nick to the fact that his little sister was a grown woman, Nick only shook his head and didn’t want to hear the truth. Perhaps she could find out for him?
“What’s the matter?” Alfie asked in a hushed voice when he found her pressing her back against the kitchen wall, hands in fists, and her thumbs pressed to her mouth.
She reached out and grabbed his waistcoat to pull him out of sight of the door.
Sneaking around, hm!
Her shoulders lifted in tension, and Alfie ducked under the slant of the stairs leading up so he could get a good look at her.
Her pupils were enlarged, her hair stuck up, and she looked rather unraveled, which was entirely uncharacteristic.
She shook her head and held his eye contact.
Yes, I’ll be quiet.
Then, the voices from the kitchen came into focus.
“You were right about my intuition, but it’s guiding me to where I cannot navigate.” Bea sighed. “It’s just that I cannot stop thinking about him.” Bea’s voice came as an exhale of desperation. “My chest feels constricted when I think about him,but when I’m near him, it beats so wildly that I fear it’ll jump out of my body and into his arms.”
“Because that is whereyouwish to be?” Pippa asked gently.
Fabric rustled. He could imagine Bea nodding.
“Did you tell him how you feel?” Pippa asked.
More fabric rustled. Alfie wondered why Wendy was interested in Bea’s and Pippa’s private conversation but then thought better since there must be a reason why and how Wendy always knew everything. Sneaking around explained it all. She was a natural investigator of human nature and its secrets.
At that thought, Alfie’s chest constricted, and he inhaled but couldn’t sigh.
“If you want the prince to take you with him to his castle and away from here, as much as I would miss you, dear cousin, you’ll have to tell him how you feel.”
“I don’t think he cares,” Bea whispered as if it were a revelation. “And he has to leave in four days.”
Wendy gasped and put both hands and not just her thumbs over her mouth. She looked at Alfie, her eyes red-rimmed, and then she ran away, up the stairs, and a door slammed shut. He didn’t know what had gotten into her, but he was already upset and preoccupied with his own thoughts.
Alfie didn’t know what to make of this news, but he had to deal with his own pain. He walked slowly down the hall and back to his apothecary, tugged at his cravat to loosen it, and buried his face in his hands.
Bea wanted the prince, not a mere apothecary.
He’d never see her again; if he did, she’d be a princess accompanying her royal husband on a diplomatic mission.
