Chapter Twenty-Six

B ea left but Alfie had the gnawing sense that he shouldn’t have let her go.

She was on her way to the prince with the love potion and he’d mucked everything up.

The little that remained of the day passed and the scent of rose, walnut, and oat from Bea’s bath hung in the air at 87 Harley Street like a raincloud over Alfie’s head. He didn’t know where she’d gone but he imagined her with the prince. Alfie’s stomach hurt and he was nearly sick with a mix of rage and frustration that it couldn’t be him. He didn’t begrudge the prince anything, his motives were noble, and he was obviously a royal with a pure heart—but that didn’t mean Alfie was willing to let Bea go. He couldn’t because he loved her. She was a part of him, even if he could never be a part of her world.

After he’d walked Chromius a second time, Alfie had shut the apothecary and dragged himself upstairs to his bedchamber. What had he done?

He shouldn’t have… oh, there was no name for what he had done to Bea—but he could lose his practice for touching a well-bred lady in this manner if anyone found out. The damage was done…even though he’d ensured it was undetectable.

What a stupid notion—undetectable. As if the passion they’d shared had not been ingrained in his soul. As if he could ever forget her moans when he’d touched her where nobody else ever had.

As if it could be undone.

Or at least she had an inkling that Alfie had so much more he wanted to show her.

He knew that women had such a thing as a sexual awakening.

And he was an idiot for serving the most beautiful and intelligent woman to a prince—as if a prince needed any help attracting a woman of that caliber.

Alfie balled his hands into fists until his palms hurt from the pressure of his fingertips. Sometimes, he loathed his job. He should have just told her there’s no such thing as a love potion; none could be made, and she’d have to find other ways to attract his attention.

Her beauty initially, then her warm smile, sweet voice, and sharp mind.

Yes, that had been enough for something to dislodge deep within him. Now, he was no more than a clock with the most important gear missing—the one that made everything else turn, the one called Bea.

Then he heard a yelp and whining.

Chromius, Nick’s dog, came into Alfie’s room and hopped onto his lap.

His furry, warm body nestled into Alfie’s arms, confiding that he needed love.

“I know how you feel, old boy,” Alfie cooed to his fuzzy friend. Chromius wouldn’t have known but Alfie was to bring him well-groomed and ready to be the ring bearer for Pippa’s and Nick’s wedding. “I’ll bring you to Nick soon.”

Of course, Chromius didn’t respond but shifted, eager to jump back down. Alfie let him go, and Chromius led him downstairs.

He followed, and Chromius stopped in the kitchen, next to the back door where Nick usually hung the leash on a nail on the wall.

“You want to go out?”

Chromius wagged his tail and went in two circles around Alfie’s legs.

“Alright, let’s go,” Alfie said, picking a hat from the shelf.

And so he walked behind Chromius, who was pulling the lead. Alfie had known him since Nick first brought Chromius to their shared student quarters.

It was a long time ago, but Alfie thought about the small room he’d shared with Nick at university in Vienna so fondly that his chest hurt. Everything would change soon.

Chromius tugged at the leash, and Alfie only paid attention to the carriages and traffic but not where they were going. He could barely follow his thoughts, much less decide where Chromius was taking him.

It was the same in life, Alfie thought. He’d been adrift.

Perfecting his craft hadn’t been a direction for his life. Perhaps it had brought him to 87 Harley Street, but it had also become why Bea had found him and ordered a love potion from him.

Alfie tasted acid. He’d been so consumed with impressing her with his skill that he hadn’t considered that he’d handed her the instrument to achieve her goal with a man that wasn’t him.

While he’d be here, heart bleeding for her, rinsing beakers, corking flasks, and at a complete loss of what to do with the rest of his life; if Bea left with the prince, she’d take his heart and leave him a shell of what he had been before he met her… before he kissed her.

She was the girl sitting by the window, veiled and lonely. She’d never been allowed to speak to him, a mere servant at the Residence in Delhi, but she’d communicated with him. All these years, Alfie thought he’d made more of it in his mind than it had been, that he’d wished for his feelings to create memories of events that had never happened. But they had.

And Bea remembered.

They’d found the missing explanation of the puzzling attraction between them, a shared connection from the past. She was the forbidden fruit he’d kissed in the Orangery—the irony wasn’t lost on him. And yet, the closer he wanted to be with her, the more absurd his idea was. A noblewoman didn’t marry a commoner… except that Pippa and Nick were about to do just that.

Chromius had led Alfie to Green Park, across the cobblestones to the linden-lined path, where the bushes provided squirrels with ample hiding spots.

Of all the women he’d kissed and tupped, the only face he could conjure up was Bea’s now.

He saw her everywhere.

Her lovely copper-colored tresses under the bonnets of the women walking with a parasol.

He heard her voice—or imagined it.

He smelled her perfume and sensed her closeness.

Even though he stood under the fragrant linden trees, he smelled Bea.

Alfie sucked his lips in, for he could even remember the lush softness and the eager pressure from her lips.

A kiss wasn’t enough anymore, and he longed for more now. He longed for her.

Alfie chastised himself for being unable to think of anything but his self-pity for falling for the aristocratic cousin of Nick’s bride. He hadn’t meant to let it happen; he knew it was not wise.

Alfie closed his eyes and slumped against a tree.

He’d fallen in love.

Despite better judgment, he’d contracted the one condition he had no remedy for—lovesickness.

Then, Chromius tensed, his body straight like an arrow.

Alfie looked toward where Chromius was staring, and then he froze.

Bea was riding in a carriage along the path and next to the prince.

Alfie stepped around the tree trunk and into the shadows lest he be seen.

*

This was her chance to forge her future. The love potion smelled lovely, and she hoped it would work because she couldn’t wait to start a new life after Pippa’s wedding—just not the way she’d initially planned. With only hours left in her old life, Bea never felt more ready for a change.

After Pippa’s wedding, Bea would start a new chapter in her life. The new plan was in motion.

Bea blinked and then narrowed her eyes.

Alfie had crafted an intoxicating perfume that lingered on her skin. It was a unique blend that reminded her not just of his alchemical talents, but of his tender touch. Each moment spent with Alfie had imprinted itself upon her senses, and now, enveloped in this new fragrance, she felt a profound and novel energy within herself. She wasn’t just wearing a different perfume; she was blossoming with a newfound sense of identity, one that resonated with confidence and clarity.

“That’s why the gold mines are such a fruitful target. We have four in Alba County, Zlatna, Abrud , Baia de Arie? , and Ro?ia Montan? .”

“I know, they date back to the ancient Romans. But there’s Brad , too. In the Hunedoara County.” Bea remembered the pages in her atlas when she’d studied Transylvania. But it didn’t appeal anymore.

“You know the names of the counties?” He asked but she couldn’t follow the conversation. Her heart was in turmoil and instead of hoping the love potion would work, she now feared that it would work in the way she’d originally hoped rather than what she now wanted. It had been too late to cancel the carriage ride with Prince Stan, but Bea had put on the love potion for Alfie. She’d changed into a more elegant gown and decided to tell him what she wanted—him! Alfie!

As the carriage rocked gently along the path, Bea couldn’t ignore the growing dissonance within her. Sitting beside the man she had briefly envisioned as her future husband, she realized how wrong her plan now seemed especially when she couldn’t deny her feelings for Alfie. The ambitions and dreams she had held onto so tightly suddenly felt like remnants of another life—one in which she hadn’t yet discovered who she truly was or what she truly desired. Shifting slightly on the bench, she moved further away from him, creating a physical distance that mirrored the emotional rift opening up between them.

“Zlatna has many other precious metals, too. It’s a flourishing city.” Stan talked and talked, and Bea thought he might be homesick. She would be, too. Her desire to travel were naught now if they didn’t include Alfie. All the longing to see the world had been something else entirely and she understood that now, she’d been on a search for him all this time.

Alfie occupied her thoughts, and the realization struck her with startling clarity. The man beside her, though perfectly amiable, could never ignite her soul the way Alfie did. It was Alfie’s touch, Alfie’s voice, Alfie’s very presence that had awakened something deep within her—a passion and a purpose that she’d been stupid to attempt to deny. She wasn’t the old Bea in Alfie’s eyes, and wanted to grow into the adventure of the new woman she became when he held her in his arms. The plans she had made now felt like a constricting corset, one she was desperate to shed in favor of the freedom that came with being true to herself. As the carriage carried her onward, Bea knew that her heart had already chosen, and it was leading her straight to Alfie.

Bea tried to pay attention to what Stan had explained to her, and the county borders and the political impasse between the Austrians, Hungarians, and Prussians would be fascinating if she didn’t have a sense of urgency to speak to Alfie again.

“So, I said, not all citizens have the same protections under the law, and it’s not how justice was meant to be. Even the ancient Greeks recognized the need for equality among men and a balance of power between those who govern and those who are governed.” Stan seemed to talk to himself as much as her—although he was so consumed in his lecture that she could have been anyone—even a tree.

Bea turned her head and held her bonnet to keep her eyes shaded. It was unseemly to roll her eyes at a prince, especially one who’d agree to stroll in the park with her when he was so busy with himself otherwise.

Alfie had never done that, she thought. He’d never talked on and on about things that only interested him without considering her an equal partner in the conversation. Even when he’d explained the workings of his connections, he’d stopped and asked for her opinion. He’d given her a vial to smell. She sighed and let her eyes glaze over with tears.

Holding her, pleasuring her… it had been the most wondrous experience and she had never felt more wanted and desired.

Bea shuddered at the thought that she’d lost control as she had, letting Alfie lift her naked out of the bath and… oh, what a wanton he must think of her for even accepting his offer of bathing in his quarters.

Bea squinted. She could have sworn she saw a man who looked just like him under the Linden trees.

No matter, for she mustn’t allow the inner hunger for him to take over her mind.

No, Alfie had first taken over her mind, and now her body wanted to follow suit.

She tilted her head back and groaned.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lady Beatrice. Have I overstepped?” Stan asked, his brows furrowed.

She blinked at him, but the sun hung low and was too bright, making Stan look like no more than a dark silhouette. The carriage turned around a curb, and Bea glanced again.

Then her stomach lurched.

It was Alfie.

With a shaggy brown dog. Chromius.

She’d recognize the dog anywhere.

And the man with those strong shoulders, narrow waist, and the way he combed his hands through his curly hair.

“Lady Beatrice?”

Bea turned to Stan and eyed him curiously. He was handsome in the classic sense, clean-shaven, with dark eyes, she suspected had seen more of the world than he’d care to admit.

But he wasn’t Alfie.

He didn’t have the same turquoise eyes that sparkled like emeralds around the obsidian circle of his pupils when he looked at her.

Why did Stan look at her so intently?

Bea jerked her head back and withdrew when Stan leaned in, closed his eyes, and— oh no!