Page 37 of A Touch of Charm
“I want to find one first!” came a cheerful voice, starkly contrasting his stormy emotions. Little Mary bounced out the side door and held a small glass jar. “Oh, Andre!” she called, holding her straw bonnet with the other hand.
“Good morning, Miss Mary. How do you do?” Andre initially feigned politeness, unable to forget his gloom, but when the little girl came to stand before him and looked at him, donning her baby teeth in a bright smile, his mood lightened instantly.
He squatted to face her. “What have you here?”
He inspected the jar, which seemed empty but for a few wrinkled leaves she’d stuffed in.
“We’re looking for Lyc-… ahem… Lyca—”
“Lycaenidae,” Thea said from behind Mary.
Andre hadn’t seen her coming—in the literal sense because he’d been squatting and focusing on Mary, but also in the figurative sense because his heart lurched when she smiled at him. She wore a straw bonnet, too, tied under her chin with a pink ribbon.
Do not look at her lips.
Speak.
Say hello, at least.
“Thank you for the madeleines. They were delicious,” Thea said.
“You’re welcome.” What Andre meant to say was something entirely different.I’d bring you fresh pastries every morning and lay the world at your feet if allowed.
But he was frozen, mesmerized by Thea’s dark eyes sparkling in the shadow. She’d bring light even to the simple pruned hedges behind the castle that wasn’t hers; that’s how brightly she shone. And suddenly, all the gloom was lifted from Andre’s chest, and he took heart. He was there now. And he’d cherish any moments he was allowed to share with her.
It would suffice for someone like him.
“Do you have many patients waiting today?” Thea asked politely.
“One here at Cloverdale House. And then nobody else on Harley Street until tomorrow.”
Thea smiled and blinked as if it were as difficult for her to break their eye contact as it was for him. “We are looking for butterfly eggs. Today’s lesson is the metamorphosis of insects,” Thea explained.
“With all this blackthorn, Miss Thea said we might find somePolyommatus. They have shiny blue-and-purple wings,” Mary declared cheerfully and walked along the hedge, inspecting the undersides of the tiny leaves.
“These hedges are a treasure trove,” Thea said when she and Andre strolled leisurely behind Mary, who was mumbling to herself.
“They’re just green to me, nothing special,” Andre lied, still convinced he was no more than one of those unmovable hedges.
“On the contrary,” Thea started. “They seem inconspicuous, but they are the cradle for life. The butterfly eggs blend in seamlessly, but the blackthorn provides the ideal protection to keep them safe. Sadly, mother butterflies never see their hatchlings, thus the blackthorn protect them instead.”
Andre thought she was adorable in her philosophical diatribe of insect nurseries, and he felt meager next to her, just the cradle for something that would hatch and leave—just as he feared that Thea would leave. She had more important things to do in her life, princes to wed, diplomatic relations to foster, as Stan had explained. She’d leave him behind like the butterflies in the hedges when they emerged from their chrysalis.
“Without the perfect blackthorn leaves, the caterpillars would starve when they hatch. And the entire agricultural system could collapse.”
“The entire agricultural system? Because of some butterflies?” Andre stopped on the gravel path.
“If the caterpillars cannot pupefy and remain protected under the leaves, they won’t become butterflies. And without butterfly pollination, there’d be no fruit trees. Many plants we eat depend on pollination—”
“Butterflies are beautiful, but the fruit trees also require bees and the support of the wind for pollination.”
Thea inclined her head. “Wind is strong but moody. A little gust makes them fly higher, but a storm can kill them. And perhaps some trees would rather have butterflies than bees?” Thea gave a playful smile over her shoulder.
She was flirting.
Don’t engage.
A storm like her father’s wrath if Andre laid a hand on the princess.
