Chapter Twenty-Five

B ea stepped into the hot bath, her sigh echoing softly in the dimly lit room. The warmth of the water spread from her legs up to the rest of her body, relaxing muscles that had been tense for far too long. She held onto the edge of the tub as she pulled her other leg in, then slowly melted into the water. The scent of rose and walnut wafted around her, enveloping her senses. It felt like she was immersed in a decadent dessert, a luxury she rarely allowed herself.

The milky water, infused with oats, soothed her skin, but it did little to ease the throbbing in her middle. Her thoughts wandered back to her last conversation in this very building. Downstairs, when Cousin Pippa had spoken of pleasure in a tone both conspiratorial and enticing. Bea finally understood it, and yearned for it, an ache that pulsed more insistently with each passing moment.

Leaning back in the tub, she let the warm water cascade over her shoulder. She lifted her hair, allowing the heat to penetrate the knots in her neck. A shiver of relief ran through her, momentarily easing the tension that coiled deep inside her. Instinctively, her hand moved to her middle. It wasn’t allowed, but who would know? Who could possibly check? She found power in defying her mother’s rules, the constraints imposed upon her at finishing school—she had enough and yet none of what she wanted—or who she wanted. Alfie.

Bea closed her eyes and spread her fingers and brushed over her skin.

In just a few hours, she was to meet with the prince. The thought should have filled her with anticipation, but instead, her mind drifted to the man in the room next door. This was where he bathed. His chiseled neck, his muscular abdomen—images of him towering over her in the Orangery that brought her senses alive came to mind and the idea of his being naked in this very tub.

As she reclined further, the water lapped gently at her skin, creating ripples that mirrored the sensations within her. Her fingers brushed lightly across her abdomen, exploring the forbidden territory. She closed her eyes, recalling every detail of Alfie’s form. His presence stirred something deep within her, something that Pippa’s words had awakened but hadn’t fully ignited.

The sound of footsteps outside her door broke her reverie. Bea quickly retracted her hand, her heart racing. The footsteps faded, leaving a silence that seemed louder than before. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm the erratic pounding in her chest.

Her thoughts returned to Alfie, lingering on the way he looked at her with a mix of curiosity and something more primal. His gaze had lingered a bit too long on her lips before he’d left her for the bath, and she remembered the way his breath had hitched when she’d accidentally brushed against him on the way up the stairs only minutes earlier. Did he feel the same pull she did?

She couldn’t afford to think this way until they could speak freely again. Not with the meeting tonight, not with the responsibilities that lay ahead. But alone in the bath, surrounded by the comforting scents and warmth, it was hard to focus on anything else. She wanted him in every way imaginable.

Bea’s fingers trailed through the water, drawing patterns that dissolved almost instantly. The sensation was calming, yet the tension in her middle remained. She thought again of Pippa’s words, about finding pleasure. Was it wrong to seek it? To want something just for herself amid the duties and expectations that constrained her every move?

The warmth of the bath was beginning to dissipate, but Bea stayed submerged, unwilling to leave the cocoon of solace it provided. She glanced at the small window, where the last light of day was fading, casting a soft glow on the walls. Evening was approaching, and soon she would have to prepare for her encounter with the prince. He would check off all her criteria except for the one she cared about most: love and passion.

So for now, she allowed herself a few more minutes of indulgence. The floral and nutty scents continued to surround her, a sensory embrace that made her feel cherished, if only briefly. She thought of Alfie again, imagining his hands where hers had been, his touch igniting a fire that no amount of warm water could quench.

*

A few minutes later, Alfie heard a clatter coming from the bathroom. The lush, creamy scent of rose wafted into his bed chamber. He could feel the warmth of the oil, an enticing note of a soft, ripe fruitiness, and the undertone of nutty sweetness.

Alfie pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, hoping he could ground himself in the task at hand. Folding.

Yes.

Good idea. He had to fold his bed sheets.

Easy.

He pulled a corner of the sheet over to the other side, pairing it with its counterpart to… what was that?

A slight splashing and a moan?

He stilled and listened.

Another light moan—no, more of a sigh.

He knocked on the door. “Is everything all right?”

No answer.

He knocked louder.

“Bea?”

Another little splash and much louder moan.

Oh no! Could she be in trouble? In the bathtub?

He’d never heard of a grown woman drowning in the tub, but his years of medical training taught him to expect anything.

Had he made the water too hot for her?

Could she have grown dizzy? He’d made her swoon once before and caught her, but this time, she was in water.

Perhaps she was in trouble after all.

“Bea?” Alfie called, laying his hand on the door as if he could feel her pulse through the thick wood. Yet another feminine sigh escaped the bathroom.

Without thinking of propriety, he turned the knob and went in. The aroma of the bath oil enveloped him like a spell he’d laid upon the room. Even though it was just a small room, furnished to be functional and without decoration, it was a clean canvas for the most sensual image he’d ever seen.

Bea’s head was leaning on the rim of the tub, her hair dry except for the temples. She must have brushed her hair out of her face with wet hands. From his angle, he saw her delicate neck and nothing more; only her perfect profile came into view. She hung one elegant leg over the top of the tub, pointed foot twitching.

Her eyes were closed, and she let out another moan.

Then, a little splash.

Had she not heard him calling? Or knocking?

“Bea? Are you alright?” Alfie asked again, taking three steps forward and then swallowing hard.

She lay in the tub, his tub, with her gorgeous legs spread wide. Naked. One hand on her breast, the other immersed under the foamy water. He could imagine what was under the lucky little bubbles and envied them. Soapy balls, just filled with air, and yet so fortunate as to caress the most beautiful female body he’d ever seen.

She moved her hand, but her eyes remained shut.

Alfie cocked his head.

He ought to turn around and give her privacy. But he couldn’t. If she allowed him to be there, he wasn’t going anywhere.

It was only a fleeting moment, yet a million thoughts swished through Alfie’s mind—a sin he’d watched her for a long time, admired her like an oil painting at the museum.

“I can’t figure out how to… ah…” she said, her eyes still pinched closed. A few adorable layers of skin wrinkled just over the bridge of her nose, showing how tense she was and that her face was stretched with the most even gorgeous skin.

Then her hands came to the rim of the tub, and she dropped her leg in the water. She blinked her eyes open, and Alfie reached for the towel hanging on the wall just behind her head. He held it out, and she dried her eyes, but a small bead of the foam remained on her long lashes, making them sparkle like the sun’s rays on a dewy spring morning. Why wasn’t she shocked that he’d entered?

“My apologies, I shall go. I feared that you needed help because you didn’t respond when I—”

“I do need help, if you offer.” She spoke matter-of-factly as if she were seated in full dress on a settee and not lying naked in the bath, covered with only a layer of foam.

“With what?” Alfie asked, scanning the room. A stack of towels was there; her clothes hung on a chair, and the gas light flickered warmly. What could she want?

His mind raced. What did women need in the bath?

A scene came to mind: a servant holding a towel up for a princess so she could step safely out of the tub. His mouth went dry, and he bristled against the idea. He was not her servant and could never be. After all the years of work, Alfie didn’t want to remain shrouded in a head scarf like the apprentice he’d been in India. This time, he wanted to show her exactly how he felt. He certainly could wrap her in a towel, but it would not be merely to ensure that she was dry.

“I need a hand,” she said, raising her head and looking at him straight. “A hand that’s not my own.”

“What for?” Alfie’s right hand twitched, and he put it in his pocket to contain it. As if his hand knew where she wanted it, and he wouldn’t allow it such an escapade, he held back.

“I’m trying to figure out the point of all this. It occurred to me that the scent of seduction is in the air, so how can I know when I succeeded?”

Alfie blinked several times to make sure he was awake, and she hadn’t merely said all this in his imagination or dreams.

“What do you mean?” He knew what she meant. Even his hand knew. But he couldn’t allow it.

“I can’t figure out what the finish is. The great finish that everybody is talking about.”

“Who’s talking about it?”

“Oh, everybody. My cousin Pippa. Violet.”

“Lady Langley?”

“Yes.”

A moment of awkward silence punctured the lovely scent in the room. The air was hot, and the rose hung lower than the nutty walnut. Of course, it would, Alfie thought; it’s a much heavier oil. That’s why the lighter rose wafted out of the bathroom first, sending for him like a calling card.

“Do you remember the pavilion? From the ball at the Langleys?”

Of course, he did! He’d heard what occurred there and he was quite certain it was where he’d seen Nick and Pippa wander off that night at the ball, just before Bea had come to speak with him. He’d imagined the pavilion. He pictured himself with her in said closet uncountable times. This was not something he could easily forget. “Faintly.”

“There was something I heard. ‘No woman ever failed to finish in this closet.’”

“Hm!” Good to know. Except that he didn’t want to know. He’d rather find out how Bea finished. She’d probably do amazingly well, considering that she had no scruples about conversing with him stark naked from her vantage point in the tub—his tub. Even the tub was lucky, just like the bubbles. What Alfie longed for was what was between the tin of the tub and the lovely layer of bubbles, the body sheathed from his view.

“I should go.”

“No, please!”

“Do you need anything, a towel or a bar of soap?” Alfie turned toward the door. He couldn’t just stand there and look at her. It was too hard to hold back. He put both hands in his pockets and stood there, not allowing his hands to go where his mind had already ventured.

“I am two-and-twenty years old. I’ve never managed to reach this finishing point. I’m certain I know nothing of how it’s done.”

He had not heard right. This was his mind playing tricks. The scented oils lured his imagination so he couldn’t discern reality from wishful thinking.

“Please! You know so much of the human body. You studied medicine and pharmacy. You, you—”

Alfie swallowed again; his Adam’s apple bobbed and suddenly his cravat was too tight.

He tugged at it to loosen it just a bit. His eyes searched for the window, but it was all fogged up. The steam from the hot water had shrouded them in privacy, so even the dim sunlight couldn’t find them.

“What are you asking me exactly?” He was just a man, after all, in heat. Unforgivably so, actually. And yet, he had to hear it. He’d bring her a towel if she said she needed it. If she said she needed a cup of tea, that’s what he’d get. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t give for the beauty in his tub blinking at him innocently with the expression of a student about to embark upon a science experiment.

“I wonder if you’d be inclined to show me.”

“Show you?”

She arched her back and brought both hands to her breasts. The foam parted, and he saw the perky round mounds, her hands covering her buds. “I can’t manage it when I know the next motion. It mustn’t come from my own hand.”

“So you want mine?”

“Yes. Do you know how to make a woman finish?”

“Yes,” Alfie croaked. This could not be real. He pushed his hands into his pockets, hoping he’d burn them on something and wake up. This dream was too dangerous for him; he couldn’t continue down this path unharmed.

“Alfie?” Her voice echoed faintly in the room. “Alfie?”

He heard her well, but had he heard well?

“I’m sorry,” her voice was low now. “My apologies if I embarrassed you.” She heaved for air and slid down in the water. The bubbles closed over where she’d gone down, closing the layer of foam. Her knees were all he could see, two islands in the foam.

Wait, wasn’t she coming up for air?

“Bea?” Alfie called.

“I’m here,” she said, emerging with wet hair and foam on her face. Her eyes were closed.

Alfie reached for the towel she’d hung on the rim of the tub. Half had been immersed in the water and was soaked, heavy with moisture. She reached for it and dried her face, then dropped the towel on the floor next to the tub. She brushed both hands over her face and hair, stroking it out of her face. The long tresses in the water floated in elegant curls.

Alfie’s body was so hard he could be a beam holding up a house. What he couldn’t hold was his composure.

“Thank you. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“You did not.”

She shrugged, and the foam parted over one of her breasts. Alfie tried not to look. Not to stare, but it was impossible. The little pink nipple couldn’t have pulled him more if he were wrapped in a rope and brought ashore to the gorgeous floating island that was this bud.

“I want to be kissed. I want to know what it feels like to finish like other women told me. I tried to manage it myself, but it’s not working.”

Alfie cleared his throat and scratched his neck. It wasn’t itchy; he just needed to know this was not one of his many dirty dreams.

“I’ve… ahem… Bea.” His mouth was too dry to speak.

He reached for a towel from the stack on the stool to wipe his hands.

But this was a virgin daughter of a duke. She had set her cap on a prince from another country, and he sighed and gripped the towel hard as if it could absorb not just the water from his skin but also the desire throbbing in his body.

He didn’t dare turn back around to see her, but there was a slight gasp.

Alfie hung the towel on the hook on the wall. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I need you to show me how it feels.”

Alfie hung both arms limp beside his body. Her words were about to defeat the restraint he’d tried to flex around her like a muscle, but he wasn’t strong enough anymore.

“Violet said it can be done with the fingers. I want your hand, Alfie. Just this once, without any consequences.”

Impossible.

And impossible to resist.

Alfie shook his head, his back still turned to her.

He unbuttoned the sleeves and rolled them up over his elbows.

Then he turned around. “Bea, I like you too much for this to be inconsequential.”

She nodded, seated upright in the tub. “Me too.”

Her breasts were above the water, both of her little pink nipples exposed and bright pink.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. I want you to show me.”

“This is reserved for your future husband. It can’t be me,” Alfie hoped he’d said it aloud. It was certainly the right thing to do but then she arched her back, and his restraint evaporated.

His tongue twitched in his mouth at the sight, his appetite for her overpowering.

Bea’s gaze was dark. He took two large steps to the tub and knelt on the side.

When Alfie put his right hand in the water and leaned his left on the rim of the tub, he gave her time to stop him.

But she didn’t.

“This won’t leave traces on your body, Bea, but it is not something you can forget you’ve experienced once you have.”

“I don’t ever want to forget anything I’ve ever experienced with you. Not now, not ever.”

Alfie narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I have a flower that I received many years ago. Someone gave it to me, and I kept it pressed in paper. It’s a constant reminder of the time I didn’t speak because I wasn’t supposed to. But I never forgave myself for not even asking for his name.”

Alfie’s heart leapt. That was him! But before he could find a way to phrase it, she took his right hand and pulled it to her center.

“I’m not going to not ask for this,” she said, looking down at her middle, hidden under the foamy water, instead of at him.

He’d missed a year’s worth of chances when he wasn’t allowed to speak to her. It was worse now and he mustn’t do what he wanted.

“I’d give you anything you want, Bea. Pleasure, if that’s what you want.”

My heart and soul are yours if you want me.

Alfie looked at her, but she leaned her head back again and shut her eyes, sucking in her lower lip.

He wanted to kiss her. Stroke her face and her lips.

He wanted to hold her in his arms, not just be a helping hand.

But even now, she was a lady and out of his reach.

So he did all he could, all he was permitted. This time, he did what she permitted, not the circumstances or the people commanding their lives.

He quickly found his way and parted her folds. She helped with both hands.

In just a moment, his index finger slipped in. She arched her back and pushed against him, but she was so tight. So precious and so hot.

He knew how to move but started slowly. Only when she moaned and relaxed a little did he insert a second finger.

“Faster,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

Alfie’s heart dropped. This was not how he’d imagined this to go.

He was serving her.

That was his station as an apothecary.

Although this was going above and beyond his job description.

And yet, it could never be more, could it?

He could never love her openly. It wasn’t permitted.

And she was most likely simply curious and overcome by the fragrances in the warm bath. Could she feel more? He mustn’t allow himself to hope.

His heart was breaking as he picked up speed. She tensed and arched her back, pushed against him, and then she opened her eyes.

She blinked at him, and he froze.

There was something in her gaze that took him off guard.

Her gaze shot to his soul, and he couldn’t hide his feelings.

Then she reached for his collar and pulled him to her face.

“Alfie, I’ve wanted you for so long.” Her breath came hot on his lips.

Alfie leaned in. Their eyes exchanged a serious glance. For a moment, nothing happened.

Everything happened.

Her eyes darted from his left to his right eye and back as if she were calculating something in her mind—or recalling a memory.

She knew who he was, not merely here, but also all those years ago in Delhi.

And then she opened her mouth and pressed her lips against his.

He was too far gone to make this a chaste kiss; she pulled his collar, and a slight ripping sound echoed in the distance. All he could focus on was her hot mouth, the heady combination of the fragrances, and her throbbing middle.

“Take me out of the bath!” she whispered and then plunged her tongue into his mouth. Alfie opened up and received her so willingly that he couldn’t but suck a little. Her lips were swollen, and he knew all too well how slick and ready she was—yearning for him.

Alfie stretched his arm and took another towel from the stool without breaking the kiss. He didn’t remove his right hand from her center but wrapped his left around her back. She rose, her mouth still on his, and then he had to pull his hand out of her.

She gasped in protest.

He wrapped her in the towel, feeling the heat loss from the water on her wet skin.

He took her in his arms and picked her up, carrying her to the table by the wall.

The table on which he usually folded towels was sturdy, modest, but smooth.

Her mouth was on his, unable to let go, and he certainly didn’t want her to leave him. Ever.

He set her on the table, so the towel fell off her, a layer between her soft skin and the hard wooden surface.

Alfie spread her legs, and she complied. He took a position standing between her legs and put his right hand back. She fell back as he inserted his middle and index fingers at once, so his thumb could find her pearl. With his left arm, he caught her just when she gasped with pleasure.

She arched back and cupped his face, pulling him in for the deepest kiss in his life. He could feel her in his bones, so passionate was her kiss. Her tongue was clumsy, fresh, innocent, needy, and ready for him.

*

He kissed her with vigor as if he were speaking to her insides. She could feel a ripple of emotion through her entire body when he flicked his tongue and his hand… oh his hand… coherent thoughts left Bea’s mind. This was forbidden, and it should be. Now that she felt him like this, she was addicted. She wanted more of him, and she wanted him entirely.

“Deeper!” She cried into his mouth, unable to stop exploring his mouth with her tongue. She felt his large, sharp teeth.

She leaned back and let her wet hair fall back. Propped on her elbows, she freed his left hand, and he grabbed her breasts. Oh, how marvelous. Magical tingling rushed through her.

His hand covered her breasts. Then he kissed her jawline. Then, her chin. And he went down to the nape of her neck, along her décolletage, and down to—oh!

He took her nipple between his teeth, and… her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

She felt his hand so deep, as if it were in her throat, reaching through her body to her heart and enchanting her. This was a life-changing experience, and she grabbed his head.

Driving her right hand through his hair, she tried to remain propped up on her elbow, but when he let go of her right nipple with his mouth and brought his free hand there, he took the other nipple in his mouth and did the same thing.

The same magical kiss.

She collapsed onto the table. Her legs spread wide as she was offering herself up. He was dressed and feasting on her body while giving her something she never knew existed.

And then she tensed.

For a moment he paused. “Do you want to finish?”

She didn’t know. She was certainly not done. Her lips were swollen, her nipples hard, her center throbbing for him to resume.

“If you like this first finish, we can start anew, and you can have another.”

“Another?”

He nodded.

“Promise?” Urgency colored her voice.

“Yes,” he panted. “Any time.”

And with a swift motion, he did something with his hand that filled her more, stretched her more, and then he moved. His hand on her breast, he kneaded her nipple most expertly, anticipating the sensations she’d need before she even knew. And he came down with his mouth, further down, until his thumb flicked her bean up and he took it in his mouth.

A scream pierced the silence. It was hers.

He exhaled, and heat overcame her as he sucked, stroked, and whatever it was that he did; Bea’s vision failed. Her skin tingled where he touched her in the best way imaginable. With his gentle kisses, she discovered new sensations her body was capable of. Somehow, he knew her body even better than she did, and she wondered if it could be true for her heart.

Then it happened.

She forgot to breathe, and a tremor shook her from the center through her body, from the inside out like a ripple of the water when a rock plopped in. She could feel it like a cramp in her body, curling her toes and prickling at the base of each hair on her head.

She let it wash over her and then she heaved for air. But what she really wanted was him.

Disheveled, eyes black, his mouth glistening with her slick desire, he came up from there.

His hand exerted gentle pressure.

It was so good. And he felt so right.

She hadn’t known her body could do that. And she knew then she was made for this—for him.

She reached for his gorgeous face and pulled his head up. He complied after removing his fingers and just laying his hand flat on her hot throbbing center. It was soothing her in a way she wouldn’t have known to ask for. He was everything she’d wanted and needed yet never knew to request.

And when he came to her face, he stilled and looked into her eyes.

She knew he wanted to say something but didn’t. There was a certain sadness, a vulnerability in his gaze. He looked younger than ever before, raw.

Then his eyes fell from her eyes to her mouth, and he lowered his face.

Just before his mouth touched hers again, he closed his eyes so tightly, as if he were about to dive into cold salt water and wanted to shield his vision.

And the kiss was unlike the one a moment ago.

He was slowly feeling her lips with his, pressing to intensify the touch and then releasing her to bring his tongue to her cupid’s bow. He was telling her something.

Without words, just with the tenderness of his touch.

And there was that special color of his eyes…

His hand left her middle and he trailed both hands along her sides, over her breasts, along her shoulders and arms. Then he inserted both hands behind her back and supported her while he kissed her so deeply that she thought she was dreaming and yet it was an awakening.

He pulled her up, supporting her back with both hands and he wrapped her in the towel.

Still kissing her.

Next, he crossed the towel over her breasts, and she instinctively held it over her shoulders like a shawl.

And then he broke the kiss.

She could tell he did so reluctantly.

He dropped his forehead onto hers and turned his head sideways as if he wanted to say something and didn’t dare again.

Then a bark . Chromius.

He was outside the door, scratching and whining. It was time for his walk and meal.

Bea’s eyes grew wide. “This never happened.”

“What?” Alfie whispered.

He inhaled as if he needed to tell her something and it appeared that courage failed him.

“Shh!” Bea put a finger on his lips. She was too embarrassed about her feelings but this… she was a wanton woman. She would embarrass Pippa in front of her almost sister-in-law if anyone were to find out.

Alfie deflated, slumped his shoulders, and then he dropped his head.

Bea’s heart pounded as she found herself back in the dimly lit room, a sense of disorientation washing over her. She was sitting on the edge of the table, wrapped in nothing but a damp towel, the remnants of their encounter still clinging to her skin. A cold shiver coursed through her, and she began to tremble.

Her middle was sore and hot, a poignant reminder of the intimate moment she had just shared with Alfie. The realization struck her with the force of a tidal wave—she had allowed him to touch her too intimately, far beyond the bounds of propriety. Panic surged within her, and she scrambled to gather her discarded clothes and her reticule with her journal, clutching them to her chest as though they could shield her from her own reckless desires.

“I have to go.” She looked left and right, trying to ensure that she wasn’t leaving as much as a hairpin behind. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled out of the room and into what she hoped was his bedchamber. She reached for the door with desperate hands, slamming it shut behind her and turning the key in the lock. The sound of the bolt sliding into place echoed in the quiet room but on the inside, her thoughts grew into an unbearable cacophony. She’d wanted this, him, all of Alfie more than she could say. She was supposed to have the prince, but would he even want to have her? Did it matter anymore? And what about when her parents returned?

She leaned against the door, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she felt a sob rising in her throat. It had been so good, his touch, his kiss. The memory of his lips on hers sent a fresh wave of heat through her, mingling with the cold fear that gripped her heart.

Alfie. The gorgeous apothecary. She licked her lips and could still taste him, could still smell the heady mixture of herbs and sweetness that seemed to permeate the air around him. Even now, as the steam from their shared moments began to settle, the aroma lingered, tantalizing and intoxicating.

Bea’s shoulders shook with the force of her sobs as she sank to the side of the bed, clutching her clothes to her chest. She cried for the sheer wrongness of what had happened, for the breach of propriety she had committed. But more than that, she wept for the realization that had dawned upon her with startling clarity.

She had been so wrong before. Her daily visits to the apothecary had not been driven by a need for his concoctions or remedies. No, she had wanted to see him, to be near him, to bask in the warmth of his smile and the kindness in his eyes. She had wanted Alfie, the man behind the apothecary, and there was no other explanation for the longing that had taken root in her heart.

And she recognized the familiarity now… she’d ignored it far too long.

The tears flowed freely now, each one a testament to the confusion and desire that warred within her. Bea buried her face in her hands, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing down upon her. How could she have been so blind? How could she have let herself fall so deeply, so irrevocably, for a man who was beyond her reach again after all this time?

She’d recognized his eyes, the color was too unique with the specks of teal and the lines of deep and light hues of blue. He was Mater Varier’s apprentice.

Bea clasped her stomach, nausea bubbling within her. She’d loved him all these years.

The muffled sound of Alfie’s gentle and concerned voice reached her ears. “Bea? Are you all right?”

She choked back a sob, unable to find the words to respond. What could she possibly say to him now? How could she explain the torrent of feelings that had overwhelmed her, the fear and desire that intertwined so tightly within her? He’d been her friend, and she’d let him do… oh she had no words. She should be mortified and yet, even though she knew it was too scandalous, she wanted to do it again.

“Please, Bea,” he called again, his tone softening. “Let me in. I just want to know you’re well.”

The tenderness in his voice only made her cry harder. She pressed her forehead against the bunched-up fabric of her clothes, wishing she could disappear, wishing she could turn back time and undo the moment that had changed everything. But the past could not be undone, and she was left to grapple with the consequences of her actions.

Slowly, hesitantly, she stood, walked to the door, and reached for the key and unlocked it. The handle turned, and Alfie stepped into the room, his expression a mixture of worry and relief. He crossed the threshold cautiously, as though afraid one wrong move might shatter the fragile connection between them.

“Bea,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. That was never my intention.”

Her tears welled anew at his words, and she shook her head. “It wasn’t you,” she managed to whisper, her voice trembling. “It was me. I didn’t know how to handle… this.”

“I didn’t handle it well either.”

Bea looked at him, searching his eyes for some reassurance, some promise that everything would be all right. And in his gaze, she found it. The way he looked at her, with such tenderness and understanding, soothed the raw edges of her panic.

“I still have the Nagapushpa.” She heard her voice say the words before her mind had made the decision to utter them. “It reminds me of the time when I wasn’t so alone.” But now that it was out, she had to wait. If it was him, and she knew in her heart, it must be, he’d have to react. Would he admit it and give her permission to love him this time?

Alfie reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a gentle caress. “You’re not alone any more if you don’t want to be,” he said.

Bea’s heart stopped. He’d seen deeper into her, recognized her, and he knew her heart better than she did, just like her body. He had always known what she needed.

“It didn’t work last time.”

Alfie jerked his head back. “Last time I wasn’t in the position to ask for your hand.”

“You abided by the rules of Master Varier, didn’t you? You were not supposed to speak with me.”

Alfie furrowed his forehead and made wide eyes. “but now you know it was me.”

“I didn’t know at first,” Bea said, blinking as she pulled his covers around herself. “But I’m right, aren’t I? And why you gave me the rare flower?” A new-found intimacy of not merely passion, but a shared past, enveloped her more than Alfie’s scent from his covers. He’d been in her heart all this time; the physical aspects were the bonus.

*

Alfie’s heart thrummed so strongly that he could feel it in his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you come to find me?”

“Why didn’t I? Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m below you, again. Still. I was your servant and then you came to ask me for a love potion for a prince! I’m not supposed to feel this way, it’s not allowed.”

She furrowed her brows and stood so absolutely beautiful in his covers that his chest could burst with the love for her. “I can’t love a lady. Couldn’t then and can’t now.”

“I see. All I am is my title and my station.”

“No. That’s not what I said.”

“But it is more important than the truth? What is it that you expect me to say? I recognized you but it took me some time to put the pieces of my only true friend in life together?” She waved in the air and nearly dropped the covers that kept her decent. “I’m the poor aristocrat in the gilded cage and you’re free to roam the world, why pick me? I’d anchor you to the scandal, the Ton, the hypocrisy of the noblesse. With me, you’d be chained to so many rules that they’d stop you from breathing.”

Alfie shook his head. “I never said anything like that. I’d drag you down, Bea. I’m nothing. My parents died on a merchant ship, and I had to work to pay for university. The room I shared with Nick in Vienna is smaller than your closet. I couldn’t even pay for the fare to come to England when my apprenticeship ended, and I had to work off the cost to leave India.” Alfie combed both hands through his hair. “There’s nothing I can offer you but my heart! You can’t raise a family on love alone, I know that I can’t overreach to hold you, but somehow, I can’t stop myself.”

She pressed her lips into a flat line and two large tears ran down her cheek.

He cocked his head. “It’s not my privilege to pick you. I wish it were, Bea. I wish I could speak freely and tell you that I’ve loved you since the day I brought the girl in the veil honey, but it would be silly. It was an infatuation. Now that I truly know you, the person you’ve become, I know it’s the kind of bone-shattering love that I will never recover from.”

“Why should you need to recover?”

“Because I can’t have you, Bea. I’m just an apothecary.”

“And you were just an apprentice in India?”

“Yes.” Alfie dropped his head.

“So what was this? Practice? A test?”

He shook his head. “Untraceable.”

A long awkward pause followed. Alfie wanted to fall to his knees and propose to her, declare his everlasting love and devotion—but it wasn’t his place. She was worth a prince, not merely an apothecary.

She heaved one more time, then wiped the tears from her face and straightened her back. “As I said, it never happened.” Her voice cracked. “Leave me, I must dress and go.”

Yes, Alfie thought. He’d given her the love potion to take the path she ought. At least she now knew what she was missing.

And so did he.