Chapter Thirty-Two

A lfie stood rigid, his eyes fixed on Bea as she watched Pippa and Nick accept a flurry of well wishes as the crowd came to congratulate them. He could see how her shoulders trembled slightly and how her hands clutched each other as if she were holding herself together by sheer willpower. The sun cast a golden halo around her, illuminating the tears that glistened on her cheeks like diamonds. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to offer some solace, but something held him back—a barrier constructed of society’s rules and ranks imposed upon people.

He knew it meant nothing because all people were ultimately made of flesh and blood and yet he didn’t want to ruin her chances for success in Society by making a claim. If there was anything Alfie respected, it was the future and her independence.

Among the guests and his closest friends, he couldn’t act on his desire. He was painfully aware that he was too far below her station. The world wouldn’t let him have her, he was just an apothecary and didn’t deserve Lady Beatrice Wetherby no matter how much he loved her. He just wasn’t enough gentleman for a lady of her station.

As Pippa accepted a handkerchief from Nick, Alfie saw Bea’s composure shatter. She began to cry, quietly at first, but then more openly, unable to hold back the tears. He noticed Wendy discreetly wiping away her own tears while Felix and Andre stood protectively at her sides. Yet it was Bea’s raw, unfiltered pain that gripped him. Her tears weren’t just for the beauty of the vows; they were an outpouring of deeper pain that only he, apparently, recognized.

Alfie felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was partly responsible for her distress. Unsure what he had said in the carriage and astonished at how much the truth serum had affected him, Alfie feared he’d said something terrible. All day, he had avoided her since during the night before, his own insecurities and fears created a distance between them. Now, standing here amid the celebration of love and commitment, that distance felt insurmountable. He wrestled with the urge to go to her, to bridge that gap, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, his body betraying his heart’s deepest desires.

And then, suddenly, Bea moved. It wasn’t a gradual retreat but a sudden, desperate flight. She turned and ran, her dress billowing out behind her like a white sail caught in a fierce wind. Alfie’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her flee, the sight of her retreating figure searing itself into his memory. Each step she took away from the ceremony felt like a cleft between them.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The joyous bustle from the guests, the gentle rustling of leaves in the orchard, even the light seemed to dim around him. All he could focus on was Bea, disappearing into the distance, her pain now echoing his own. Alfie knew he had to do something, but he was paralyzed, trapped in his own hesitation and regret.

Finally, spurred into action by the realization that he could not let her go like this, he started to move. The world around him slowly came back into focus, and then all that mattered was reaching Bea, finding a way to mend whatever had broken between them. As he began to follow her, he was determined. He would not let this moment slip away; he would not lose her without a fight.

The applause and cheers from the wedding ceremony faded into a distant hum as he sprinted across the garden, his eyes locked on the path she had taken. The orchard loomed ahead, its rows of fruit-laden trees casting dappled shadows on the ground. He pushed past branches and leaves, his breath coming in sharp bursts as he navigated the twists and turns of the orchard.

The scent of ripe apples filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the soil beneath his feet. Alfie’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the urgency he felt. He caught glimpses of Bea’s dress through the gaps in the trees, a flash of white amidst the greenery, guiding him forward like a beacon.

“Bea!” he called out, his voice strained but resolute. There was no response, only the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. He quickened his pace, his thoughts a whirlwind of regret and again, of determination. He couldn’t let her slip away, not like this, not when so much was left unsaid.

He rounded a corner in the orchard and finally saw her ahead, her pace slowing as she neared the edge of the trees. She glanced back, their eyes meeting for a brief, heart-wrenching moment before she turned and continued running. Alfie felt a surge of desperation, his legs burning with the effort to close the distance between them.

Bea reached the side of the main house, her movements now more frantic as she fumbled with the door handle. Alfie was close behind, his hand reaching out as if he could catch her by sheer will alone. She slipped inside just as he reached the threshold, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft thud.

Undeterred, Alfie pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The cool, air of the old house enveloped him, a stark contrast to the bright, sunlit garden outside. He could hear Bea’s footsteps echoing through the corridor, leading him deeper into the labyrinth of rooms and passageways.

“Bea, please!” he called again, his voice softer now, tinged with a pleading note. He followed the sound of her footsteps, his own steps measured but urgent. The walls around him seemed to close in, the antique portraits and ornate wallpaper blurring as he focused solely on finding her.

“Oh, now you will speak to me?” Her voice wobbled and he looked up the staircase, seeing her more than twenty steps above.

He took two steps at a time and caught up with her just when she slipped into a bed chamber. Bea stood in the center of the room, her back to him, her shoulders rising and falling with each ragged breath. Alfie took a hesitant step forward, his heart breaking at the sight of her so vulnerable and distraught.

“Bea,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. She stiffened but didn’t turn around, her silence speaking volumes.

“Get out of my room!”

Alfie saw a bed, an open trunk with fabrics. The journal on her vanity table. This was a room in which she’d spent much time before. It was a home for her, her grandparents’ estate. And he was an intruder.

“I’m so sorry,” he continued, his words rushing out in a desperate attempt to bridge the cleft between them. “I’ve been a fool. I should have talked to you, should have told you—”

“Why now, Alfie?” Bea interrupted, her voice trembling with raw emotion. She finally turned to face him, her eyes red and glistening with tears. “Why are you here now, when it feels like everything is already falling apart?”

Alfie took another step forward, closing the distance between them. “Because I can’t stand seeing you in pain. Because I care about you more than anything, and I can’t see you like this.”

Bea shook her head, her expression a mix of anger and sorrow. “You don’t understand, Alfie. I’ve been trying so hard to hold everything together, and now… my parents are here. I failed at the one thing they asked me to succeed at, because of you!”

“Why me? I gave you the love serum. I stepped aside so you and Prince Stan can—”

Her eyes flashed at him, full of emotions he didn’t dare identify. “I don’t want you to step aside! Why would you even?”

Alfie jerked his head back. “Why? Because you’re a lady and I’m not the prince you deserve.”

“I’m an earl’s daughter and I have danced with so many gentlemen, Alfie. I’ve been to Almack’s and the finest balls in Town just like they wanted. Yet, I failed to accomplish what they wanted me to—marriage to a peer—and the worst is that I don’t even care about the failure as much as I care about not getting what I want.” She crossed her arms over herself and frowned in a way he might find adorable if she wasn’t so upset. “I’m a spoiled doll,” she declared.

He sobered himself. “You’re not a doll, Bea. And you’re not failing. You’re standing up for what you believe is just, and you’ve been helping the prince to help my friends. That’s strength of character. And you’re quite the diplomatic genius!” Alfie said firmly, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “What do you want that you can’t have anyway? You can afford anything you want to make you happy.”

“Except for you,” she whispered.

Except for you , his heart echoed. Bea. My Bea.

Silence hung between them, heavy and charged with unspoken feelings. Alfie took another step, and then another, until he was standing right in front of her. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking her hand in his.

“I’m here, Bea,” he whispered, his voice full of earnest sincerity. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere if you wish for me to stay. But you have to say it.”

Bea stared at him, her eyes searching his for some sign of the truth. Truth without truth serum he supposed.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she began to relax, the tension in her shoulders easing as she allowed herself to believe him. Alfie squeezed her hand gently, offering her a small, hopeful smile. In that quiet, sun-dappled room, surrounded by the echoes of the past, they stood together, ready to face whatever came next.

“Why didn’t you speak to me last night?”

“I did.”

“No, you avoided me in the carriage.” Bea looked down at her hand in his.

“I had some of the truth serum and didn’t want to spill too much… Everybody has secrets.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Am I one of them?”

He shook his head. “Not you. Only my feelings for you.”

“And you didn’t want to admit them? I feared you didn’t—” she sucked in air, “I wanted to hear you say it.”

“It wasn’t my place. Just like it wasn’t in India—”

“It is now.”

And Alfie’s resolve grew. Downstairs was the prince, her parents, and uncountable members of the Ton who’d welcome seeing Bea with the royal. She hoped nobody had seen her return to the building since they took a rarely-used side door. But here, she was with him.

Finally alone.