Chapter Fourteen

H er heart betrayed her station, Bea thought. The kiss hadn’t been proper.

But oh, had it felt wonderful.

Alfie was—she sighed—like a revelation of what the world could be if two halves came together, the male and the female. She’d been only half, and since she’d kissed him, she knew there was completion to be attained, yet getting there eluded her.

In the quiet sanctuary of her chamber, Bea leaned against the window frame, staring out at the moonlit gardens that stretched beyond Cloverdale House. The night was still, save for the occasional whisper of wind through the trees. Her thoughts were anything but calm and refused to be quelled.

She touched her lips, still tingling from the memory of Alfie’s kiss. In her mind’s eye, she could see the softened edges of his rugged face, the way his eyes had darkened with desire as he leaned in. The moment had been electric, an unexpected jolt that sent her heart racing and left her breathless. She hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even considered it a possibility, yet there it was—searing and unforgettable.

Bea knew she was playing a dangerous game. She was meant to woo the prince, weave her way into his good graces, and secure her family’s position while escaping the grip of London’s elite. She’d outgrown the Ton in the course of her seasons and wished to leave their gossip and superficial values behind like an old gown. But she was racing against time, unable to see exactly how much she had left until her parents’ return. She’d rely on her charm and a vial of love potion now hidden beneath her pillow. The potion was supposed to ensure the prince’s devotion, a foolproof way to bind his fate to hers. But now, the very thought of using it felt like a betrayal—not to the prince, but to herself.

Her heart skipped just thinking of Alfie. He was everything the prince was not: grounded, genuine, and utterly irresistible. His touch had ignited something within her, a fierce longing she didn’t know she was capable of. It was as if he had seen through the layers of pretense and expectation that cloaked her, reaching the core of who she truly was. With him, there were no masks, no need to perform or pretend. It was a raw, unfiltered connection, and it terrified her.

Bea sighed, turning away from the window, her fingers reaching for the small vial of potion under the feather pillow. It was supposed to be her ticket to security, to a future where she needn’t worry about her family’s precarious standing. But now, it felt like a burden, a reminder of the lengths she was willing to go to achieve her goals.

From her vantage point, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the dressing mirror. Her heart grew heavy as she noticed the telltale signs of another outbreak—a smattering of red, angry patches creeping across her cheeks and jawline.

She ran her fingers lightly over the inflamed skin, wincing at the tenderness. The rash seemed to flare brighter with every anxious heartbeat, spreading like wildfire.

Desperate, she rummaged through the drawers, searching for the salve Alfie had given her the last time. Her hands shook as she uncapped the small jar, scooping out a generous amount and applying it to her face. The cool ointment offered immediate relief, but it couldn’t erase the underlying cause of her distress.

She sank onto the edge of her bed, the soft down comforter softening beneath her weight. Could she really go through with it? Could she look the prince in the eyes, knowing her heart belonged to another? The stakes were too high, and the consequences were too severe. Yet, the thought of never feeling Alfie’s kiss again, never hearing his voice or seeing his smile, was almost unbearable.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She was trapped between duty and desire, between what was expected of her and what her heart yearned for. It was a cruel twist of fate to find love where it was forbidden and to be bound by obligations she could not shirk.

Bea lay back on the bed, clutching the vial to her chest as if seeking solace from the very thing that caused her turmoil. The choice before her was impossible, each path fraught with its own perils. As she closed her eyes, the echo of Alfie’s kiss lingered, creating a bittersweet reminder that some things, once felt, could never be forgotten.