Page 81 of The Scent of Intuition
“No,” he croaked and turned away, looking out the window.
This was new. It was awful, for he usually never took his focus from her. Gone were the hungry eyes from that morning.
“I saw you at the park with Chromius,” Bea started.
“I saw you, too.” He glanced at her, but Bea could see hurt in his gaze even though the carriage’s cabin was dark. “Glad it worked.” He turned away, watching the streetlights pass by as if they held a truth he couldn’t find in her face.
“It didn’t work. The potion, I mean.”
His snorted.Hmpf!was the only response she got. “It will.”
“I don’t want it to work anymore. Not with him.”
“Then don’t use it.”
He shifted as if he was uncomfortable, and his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside.
“Alfie?”
He didn’t respond but she noticed his body tensing. “It’s nothing, Bea. Just… not tonight,” he replied, his voice rough with an edge of desperation.
“Tell me what’s the matter with you or is it such a terrible secret?”
“Everybody has their secrets.” He gulped.
The pain in his voice pierced her heart. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, but he flinched away, hisbody unyielding. Bea withdrew, feeling a mixture of hurt and frustration. She longed to bridge the divide that had opened between them, but Alfie seemed determined to keep her at arm’s length.
Chapter Thirty-One
The next day at Silvercrest Manor. The day of Pippa and Nick’s wedding…
The sun hunghigh in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden of their grandfather’s ancestral estate, where Pippa’s and Nick’s wedding was taking place. Bea had donned her best gown, but she’d never felt worse. Alfie hadn’t spoken to her on the ride home from the Langleys even though she’d showed him that she’d risk everything to be with him just for being in the carriage with him. She felt his rejection like a saber in her chest.
The medieval castle stood majestically, its ancient turrets seemingly smiling down on the joyous occasion unfolding in the garden below. Pippa’s and Nick’s wedding was a vision of romance and timeless beauty. The grounds were exquisite, under a brilliant canopy of white silk festooned with garlands of fragrant roses and delicate ivy. The canopy fluttered gently in the soft breeze, its elegant drapes framing the scene with a sense of aristocratic grace.
A pristine white carpet had been laid out, stretching from the castle’s grand chapel to the heart of the garden, where the couple would exchange their vows. Each step along this aisle was adorned with petals from freshly picked blossoms, their colors a vibrant contrast against the pure white path. The perspective of the entire setup was carefully aligned to look onto the orchard beyond, its rows of fruit-laden trees offering a picturesque backdrop of natural splendor.
Guests, seated in neat rows on either side of the carpet, looked on with anticipation as Pippa appeared at the entrance, her arm hooked into Alfie’s, her gown shimmering like a cascade of moonlit water. She moved forward, each step measured and graceful, the soft rustle of her dress mingling with the gentle murmur of the gathered witnesses. Bea’s breath hitched as Alfie led Pippa down the aisle. She wasn’t jealous of Pippa for there was no better man to escort her beloved cousin. But Bea realized that she wanted to be a bride. She was ready to be a bride. Alfie’s bride.
And yet, he avoided her gaze, blinking profusely.
Nick waited under the canopy, his eyes locked onto Pippa with an intensity that spoke volumes of his love and devotion.
When Pippa had arrived at the altar and handed Bea her bouquet, Bea stood beside Pippa, her heart heavy with unspoken emotions as she witnessed her cousin’s moment of bliss. The sun bathed the entire scene in a golden glow, casting dappled shadows through the trees and adding a touch of magic to the air. The scent of roses mingled with the faint aroma of ripening fruit from the orchard, creating an atmosphere of serene enchantment. It was a perfect wedding.
And one of the worst moments in Bea’s life.
The orchids in Pippa’s bouquet were lovely, and a smattering of fuchsia orchids had been braided into her blond hair. Bea felt the soft rustle of her dress as she stood beside Pippa, the fabric whispering against her skin with every slight movement. She tried to focus on the beauty of the moment—the delicate lace of Pippa’s gown, the way Nick looked at his bride with absolute adoration, and the melodic strains of the string quartet playing nearby.
Bea’s heart ached with each passing second. She could feel Alfie’s presence next to her, a silent, impenetrable wall. His refusal to speak to her since last night gnawed at her, turningevery breath into a quiet struggle. The sight of Pippa and Nick exchanging vows, their faces radiant with love, only made the pain sharper.
“I, Nicholas Folsham, take thee, Philippa Mae Pemberton, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” Nick spoke clearly and with reverence, as if Pippa were the only person there.
They were standing before an altar, much like Bea and Alfie were now, but the emotions in her heart were a convoluted mess of joy for her friends and a deep, searing sorrow for herself.
Bea’s breath hitched as Pippa began to speak her vows, her voice trembling with emotion. The words hung in the air like a delicate thread spun from the deepest parts of her heart. “I, Pippa, take thee, Nick, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, and to obey, till death us do part.”
Pippa’s voice cracked on the word “obey,” her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Bea felt the floodgates within her own heart burst open, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she watched her cousin’s raw display of love and vulnerability. The beauty of the moment was almost too much to bear, magnifying the ache in her own heart.
