Page 59 of The Scent of Intuition
When the firstlight of dawn crept through her window, Bea woke up with the journal lying beside her pillow.
She knew she had to see him. Determined, she took her carriage to 87 Harley Street, asked the coachman not to wait for her, and made her way to the apothecary.
Bea knocked. It was Saturday and the front door was locked. She used the knocker and cleared her throat. Her neck had begun to itch. Everything itched, actually. Could it be because she was overstepping every boundary of propriety? She stopped speculating as the door opened.
“Alfie!” She exclaimed, as if she didn’t expect him to open the door of the building in which he lived. Yet, the warmth of his smile sent a flutter through her heart. His presence seemed to fill the space with a quiet strength and gentleness that made her feel better just by virtue of being near him.
“Pippa’s just left, everyone’s on the way to Kent,” he said as he stepped aside and gestured to invite her in as if Bea’s only reason to visit 87 Harley Street were to meet with Pippa and Nick for wedding planning. Well, that was not an excuse she could use this time.
Except for Chromius barking and jumping on his hind legs to greet her, the practice was eerily quiet indeed.
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I have an important meeting tonight,” he said eyeing her intently and then he looked out the door. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.” Bea knew she shouldn’t have come unchaperoned, especially knowing that Pippa had already left for Kent. But she didn’t want a chaperone, and Violet would cover for her if needed. She could let her know later that evening, as Bea had planned to attend with Prince Stan. When Bea’s parents had left for their trip, and Pippa’s father remarried, they’d changed the instructions of their lady’s maids, and both avoided being chaperoned whenever possible. It had been an enormous risk to their reputations but also an exciting and liberating sense of control over their own lives. And that’s how Bea viewed what she’d done that morning—taken control.
Plus, since her uncle had suffered sobering at Violet’s ball, there wasn’t much heed paid to propriety. Good! Perhaps Bea didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted but she was certainly not going to ask for what she didn’t want.
Alfie glanced up, his eyes warm and questioning as he noticed her scratching her arm.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked, his gaze flicking to the journal while he turned his back to the door and shut it.
“I’ve been itchy all night,” Bea admitted, hoping her voice didn’t betray the true cause of her restlessness. “I can’t seem to… soothe the burn… inside of me.”
*
The burn insideof her…
Alfie suppressed a groan. It was Saturday morning and he’d just drawn a hot bath for himself, trying to ready himself for the task of the evening of helping Prince Stan. Oh, who was he fooling? He was going to soak in the hot water and think of Bea.
Who was here.
Now.
Standing before him.
Then he noticed Bea scratch at her arm again, and concern etched his features. “You really have irritated skin? Perhaps an oat bath would help soothe it,” he suggested gently, trying not to think about the itch in his breeches that must not be scratched.
Bea hesitated, biting her lip. “Pippa’s maid has gone with her and most of the house has been packed already. I appreciate the suggestion, but drawing a bath seems like such trouble with the move to the country estate and the wedding preparations.”
“Nonsense,” Alfie replied, a reassuring smile spreading across his face. “Let me prepare one for you here. It won’t take long, and with everyone else already off to the country, there’s no need to rush. Only Chromius and I are here.”
Her eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and something more flickering within them “If it’s truly not too much trouble…”
“It’s not,” he assured her, his voice steady and warm. “Come, follow me.”
As they walked upstairs toward the large water closet next to his bed chamber, Alfie couldn’t ignore the way his heart quickened. The moment’s intimacy was undeniable, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this simple act of kindness held far more significance than either dared to acknowledge.
He’d gone too far and offered a service that was far beyond his apothecary shop. In fact, he was taking Bea upstairs. If anyone found them, it would be scandalous. But a bath had been drawn and Bea could benefit from it more than he would.
“I promised to soothe your skin, so let me.” Alfie’s voice failed him when Bea’s mouth fell open, and she glanced up the staircase.
It was exactly as bad as it sounded, and yet, an oat bath would soothe her skin.
And it would aggravate the burning desire inside of him, Alfie thought, but he didn’t dare speak anymore.
Bea let out a puff of air as if she’d had an entire conversation with herself in her mind. She placed a hand on the railing and took the first step. “This way?”
