Chapter Eighteen

M eanwhile, Alfie stood agog in the orangery, fingers curling tightly around the jar of orange blossoms. The fragrance that once promised serenity now suffocated him. The memory of Bea’s sudden departure played over and over in his mind, like a cruel jest he couldn’t escape. The woman who had swooned in his arms, her breath mingling with his in a moment that felt as inevitable as the sunrise had fled, as if from a specter. A leaden weight settled in his chest, and self-recrimination gnawed at him. What had he done to frighten her? The thought that he might have caused her discomfort twisted his stomach. He was a cad, an idiot. Every rational bone in his body told him he should apologize, set things right. Yet, the words seemed impossible, blocked by a wall of societal expectation and personal doubt.

His mind churned with a torrent of conflicting emotions. If only he could explain how he truly felt, lay bare the storm raging in his heart. But he was a commoner, tethered to a world where such declarations were discouraged. Bea was a lady of standing; their worlds were not meant to intersect in such intimate ways. The kiss, the desperate need to make her understand—it was not acceptable for a man of his class and a woman—a true lady—like her. Yet, inaction felt like a dagger twisting inside him.

The impossibility of it all left him aching, each breath a reminder of what could never be. He needed to act, to speak, to bridge the divide between them, but how does one defy the very fabric of society? The ache in his chest persisted, a constant reminder that some emotions, once awakened, could not simply be forgotten.

Alfie methodically placed the jar of orange blossoms into the leather bag he had brought, his movements slow and deliberate. He was bracing himself to leave Cloverdale House and never return. He should stay away from Bea. And his retreat would do her a favor.

Alfie sighed.

The orangery felt oppressive now. He tightened the straps on his bag, each pull echoing the tension in his chest. With a heavy heart, he moved toward the door, his thoughts still tangled with Bea and the kiss and the question of what he’d done since to send her fleeing.

The creak of the door broke the heavy silence as Alfie grasped the handle to leave. Just as he swung it open, Pippa stepped through, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. She paused, seemingly reading the turmoil in his eyes.

“Alfie,” she said gently, closing the door behind her. “What’s happened?”

“Oh, I gathered enough petals for about two ounces of neroli oil. It’s very potent, truly, this shall suffice—”

“Between you and Bea.” Pippa took two steps forward and Alfie had to take a step backward. She was cornering him. This was an interrogation, and he had little choice but to speak the truth.

“She ran away from me.”

“I know. She’s crying in her chamber.”

Alfie squeezed his eyes shut. He’d made her cry and loathed himself for that even though he didn’t understand why she cried.

He hesitated for a moment, then let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know why she’s crying exactly but I’m afraid it is because of me.”

Pippa nodded, her eyes softening with understanding. “Bea can be… complicated. But I’ve never seen her respond to anyone the way she does to you.”

He leaned heavily against one of the raised beds, his head bowed, the weight of his confusion and heartache pressing down on his shoulders.

“She let you see her.”

“I know.”

“I mean, she let you see her when she’s having an outbreak, Alfie. She never allows anyone to see her, not even me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m an apothecary.”

“I don’t think this is why she allowed it. I think it’s because she trusts you. And she’s ashamed at the same time.”

“She can trust me. I will never recommend a treatment that won’t help.”

“Not with an ointment or a salve, Alfie. She trusts you with her heart.” Pippa spoke slowly as if she was only just realizing what she’d said when she heard her own voice. “Don’t toy with her. She’s not just anybody.”

Alfie shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. He had a reputation as a rake before he’d moved to London, but he wasn’t a cad. Nor had he ever experienced such torrential agony when he couldn’t have a woman.

No, she’s not just anybody. She’s everything to me and has been since I brought her honey every day in India.

“I’m a commoner, Pippa. Whatever feelings I have, they don’t belong in her world. I shouldn’t have kissed…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“Is that why she swooned?” Pippa’s eyes locked with his and she wasn’t letting the question slip away unanswered. So, Alfie nodded.

Pippa took a step closer and raised her chin, her gaze unwavering. “Listen to me, Alfie. Social standing might dictate where we ought to belong, but it doesn’t dictate who we love or who we belong with. You need to follow your heart. If Bea means something to you, don’t let fear or society’s rules keep you from pursuing what’s true.”

He looked at her, a glimmer of hope flickering in his heart. “And what if she doesn’t feel the same? She ran away from me. What if I’ve only made things worse in kissing her?”

Pippa smiled, a hint of mischief in her expression. “You’ll never know unless you ask her. Bea is stronger than she appears. Give her a chance to decide for herself.”

“She’s set her cap on someone else.”

“Ah, the prince. Yes. She thinks she has. He’s a great man, I am sure of it.” Pippa spoke without regard for Alfie’s feelings and his mood soured as she sang the prince’s praise. “He will make some woman very happy someday, Alfie. But that woman is not going to be Bea. They don’t love each other.”

Oh? Love? Did Bea love him and not the prince she was trying to capture?

Suddenly, he had no doubt that he loved her.

He blinked at Pippa, and she gave a crooked smile, a knowing one.

Alfie agreed, her words resonating deeply within him. “Thank you, Pippa. Nick is very lucky to have you by his side.”

She tipped her head and smiled.

As he turned to leave, Pippa touched his arm lightly. “Remember, Alfie, courage isn’t just about facing danger. Sometimes it’s about facing the unknown. You have to speak your heart.”

With a determined breath, Alfie left the orangery, the leather bag heavy on his shoulder but his heart lighter with newfound courage. Perhaps this wasn’t as impossible as he’d thought?