Page 90 of The Scent of Intuition
Stan cleared his throat and then leaned in to Alfie. In a low tone, he explained that they needed to extract some information and lead Nagy and List into a certain direction which he couldn’t say more about. Comprehension dawned.
“So Bea will spy for you?”
“Well, she’ll be on clandestine diplomatic duty as an English citizen to support the autonomy of the Transylvanian people.”
Alfie waited.
“Yes,hm…” Stan took a step back. “But I hear that congratulations are in order. She told me you proposed.”
“And she accepted.” Alfie took a wide stance and crossed his arms. The fact that Bea told Stan was a beacon of hope. Perhaps he ought to hear the prince out. “She said she loved me.”
“Oh, finally!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It was so obvious at the Langleys, I was afraid List would comment on it. We had made a plan to extract the information from him but the way you two looked at each other, I wasn’tsure List wouldn’t focus on another scandal altogether. She was supposed to have come with me, you know.”
“I do. That’s the problem. I gave her a love potion for you to… wait! I saw you in the carriage at the park together. Are you saying youdon’tlike her?”
“Oh, but I do. She’s brilliant, as I said. I can’t wait to work with her more closely.”
Alfie cocked his head. “Just work?”
Stan swallowed audibly and scratched the back of his neck. “Yes. I’m not going home for some time though. I hope you won’t mind it if she works with me?”
Stan had the tone Alfie recognized instantly; it was the same one patients used when they didn’t give away all the symptoms or the origins of an embarrassing condition. “Is there someone else?”
“Oh well, yes, she’s… oh she’s…”
“Not Bea?”
Stan shook his head. Relief washed over Alfie. Not Bea, at least not for Stan.
But for Alfie, she was everything!
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bea felt asthough life had received its second wind when she left the ballroom in search of Alfie. Stan had paid her the best compliment, enlisted her for a greater cause of justice and diplomacy, and Bea couldn’t wait to tell Alfie. But she knew she had to face her parents first. She finally came into her own and felt useful.
Bea walked through the grand hall, the echo of voices drawing her to an alcove off to the side. Her parents’ familiar tones were unmistakable, but it was the third voice that made her pause—a voice filled with a haughty elegance, unmistakably that of Baron von List, the man whom Stan had wanted her to target as her first mission. And he was hiding in a corner with a woman Bea couldn’t see. She couldn’t make out their words, but the intensity of the conversation piqued her curiosity and ignited a spark of suspicion.
Steeling herself, Bea approached with measured caution, staying close to the shadows cast by the ornate columns. But to her surprise, it was her mother with the baron. The sight of her mother, animated and engaged, only deepened her sense of unease. What could they possibly be discussing? As she stepped closer, her mother’s gaze shifted, locking onto her with a mix of surprise and concern. The baron, noticing the change in demeanor, turned to see Bea and immediately excused himself, gliding away with an air of practiced suave lies.
The sudden departure left Bea standing at the edge of the conversation, her mind whirling with questions and a gnawingsense of betrayal. What secrets were being kept from her, and why did her presence cause such a swift exit? The fragments of doubt and suspicion coalesced into a determined resolve as she faced her parents, ready to uncover the truth behind the clandestine meeting.
“Mother?”
Her mother cast a look toward the curtains of the tall windows in the hall and Father emerged. “Father?”
Her parents stood with expressions carefully composed, betraying none of the affection she had hoped to see. It was as if she had interrupted them in the middle of an important task, an unwelcome intrusion rather than the return home to a beloved daughter.
Her mother’s smile was tight, her father’s nod curt. Both exuded an air of polite detachment. Bea searched their faces for some sign of warmth or understanding, but found only cold professionalism. In their eyes, she was not the daughter they had raised, but a nuisance who could not fulfill the one thing they needed most—an advantageous connection within the Ton. She could practically feel their disappointment, an invisible weight pressing down on her shoulders.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, each second amplifying the distance between them. Bea fought to suppress the rising tide of emotions, the hurt and frustration that threatened to spill over. She squared her shoulders, determined to maintain her composure, even as she felt her heart breaking.
Bea stood there, feeling more alone than ever, as the reality of her parents’ priorities crystallized before her.
“Your match with the prince will become you.” Her mother finally nodded with a flicker of approval as if she’d made peace with the delay of the union.
