Page 10 of A Touch of Charm (Miracles on Harley Street #3)

S carcely had the clock ticked away a handful of moments, when the air of Andre’s treatment room seemed transformed. And Thea’s state of mind was also altered.

She admired Andre from her vantage point, keeping an eye on Mary, who was dutifully assisting him. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, and the air carried the soothing blend of dried herbs and beeswax.

Mr. Hollingsworth, an elderly tailor with a neat white mustache, sat across from Andre, his face a mix of hope and worry. Thea observed how Andre’s demeanor shifted seamlessly from the light-hearted charm he often displayed to a gentle seriousness. “Let’s have a look, then,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. He reached for the tailor’s wrist with a gentleness that spoke of his practiced care.

“Push against my hand,” Andre said, holding up his muscular hand, which looked youthful and strong compared to his patient’s. The man seemed strained as he pushed, but Andre didn’t wince.

“How long have you suffered from the loss of strength?”

“Since the accident, Dr. Fernando. But it’s gotten worse. Especially in the evenings.”

“After a long day’s work?”

“Yes.”

Andre nodded and examined how far the man’s fingers could bend. Not very far, Thea thought.

“Limited range of motion and loss of strength, Mr. Hollingsworth,” Andre said.

“I agree,” Mary nodded as if she had all the expertise in the world.

“Thank you, Miss Mary. It’s good to have a second opinion that finds approval of my diagnosis,” Andre said. Thea suppressed a chuckle.

“I have nine grandchildren, Dr. Fernando,” the older man said, his warm gaze pointing toward Thea. “Congratulations on your young family.”

Thea gasped. He thought she was… oh but…

“Thank you so much, but she’s merely a dear friend’s sister, and this is Miss Mary White. She’s our guest until her parents pick her up when they return from Dr. Folsham’s wedding.” A white lie to ward off further questions and keep Thea’s identity secret.

Keep her safe.

“Oh,” the patient’s eyes darted from Andre to Thea and then to Mary. “I assumed wrong. My sincere apologies.”

Thea noticed that Andre blushed a furious red color. He seemed like a man who wasn’t accustomed to lying to his patients and it tugged at her hear that he had done so for her, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

Suddenly Andre furrowed his brow with concern. “Mary, we really must ask you to step out for a moment,” Andre said, his tone both firm and kind. “I have a patient to attend to.”

Mary, her curls bouncing with every nod, crossed her arms defiantly. “But I can help! I want to be your nurse.”

Thea couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s determination. “Mary, it is very kind of you to offer, but—”

Before Thea could finish, Mr. Hollingsworth paused, taking in the scene with a knowing smile. “Ah, but how could one possibly refuse such an offer?” the patient declared, a playful glint in his eye. “Surely any old man would be most fortunate to have not one, but two lovely nurses to fuss over him.”

Thea felt a warm blush creep up her cheeks, a mixture of amusement and mild embarrassment. Mr. Hollingsworth’s charm was somehow endearing. She glanced at Andre, whose mouth twitched in a reluctant smile.

“Very well,” Andre conceded with a sigh, though his eyes twinkled with good humor. “But Mary, you must promise to do exactly as you’re told.”

Mary clapped her hands in delight, her enthusiasm infectious. “I promise!”

As Mr. Hollingsworth settled in the chair, Thea caught his eye, and he winked conspiratorially. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Thea felt her spirits lift. This unexpected task may benefit her and Mary, not just the patient. Or was it the doctor who had this effect?

*

Andre rather wished he hadn’t said anything. He couldn’t introduce Thea as the princess, he’d promised Stan to keep her safe, and the best way to accomplish that was not to show off who she was. He could barely hide a ravishing beauty like her, but a princess? If anyone found out, the news would spread through London like wildfire, and List would know where to find her.

It was too dangerous.

Yet, he’d done her a great disrespect by introducing her as a friend’s sister. But it wasn’t a lie. She was his friend’s sister. Some of his friends were in high places, and it wasn’t very much his fault that their sisters—this one in particular—were extraordinarily beautiful.

And smart.

And kind.

And she was staring at him so intensely that the hairs on his neck pricked up.

“If your diagnosis is bad, Dr. Fernando, don’t tell me! It’s my livelihood. I can’t sew with the left hand, much less use the scissors. I work with wonderful fabrics—”

“I understand,” Andre said and rose from his stool. “There isn’t a cure, but we can treat the symptoms to alleviate your discomfort.”

Andre noted the slight wince on Mr. Hollingsworth’s face as he examined his elbow and shoulder next, the subtle tremor Andre seemed to detect without a word. He could see the worry in the tailor’s eyes, the way his fingers struggled to obey his will. Andre’s hand rested on the back side of the patient’s shoulder.

“Does it pain you in the morning when it’s cold?”

Mr. Hollingsworth quietly confirmed the question, seeming both relieved and resigned.

Andre’s attentiveness was unwavering as he explained the nature of the ailment.

“It seems you’re suffering from what we might call a craftsman’s ailment,” Andre said, pointing to the affected area precisely. “You have rheumatism, which causes inflammation of the joints. Combined with the severe wear of the joints, we need to watch it very closely.”

A flicker of hope danced in Mr. Hollingsworth’s eyes at Andre’s words, but he didn’t want to mislead the tailor into thinking there was a remedy.

“Rest the hand as much as your trade allows,” he advised. “A menthol bath can increase the blood supply and ease your discomfort on days when cooling helps. I will also ask the apothecary, Mr. Collins, for an ointment with arnica if you experience days of swelling. Choose whichever feels good because it may alternate at times. And don’t hesitate to come to see me if the pain increases.”

“Thank you,” the old man said as he stood with renewed determination, gratitude evident in his posture.

As Mr. Hollingsworth departed, after thanking Mary profusely for her outstanding care as a nurse, Mary’s satisfaction was palpable, a quiet pride that filled the space between them. Thea remained in the doorway, her arms crossed and her gaze warm with a seeming appreciation for the treatment.

“Once I clean up, I shall take you to the Cloverdale House,” Andre declared. “It’s not quite ready yet, but it will be an adequate accommodation for you and Stan. We’re turning it into a rehabilitation center. I mean, the other doctors and I. I can look after Stan there, too.”

Thea nodded. “You have transformed a moment of pain into one of promise,” Thea said, admiration coloring her voice.

“He was very grateful for your assistance,” Andre told Mary, unsure if he’d found the right words.

Andre sighed. “I cannot help him much. His muscles atrophy, lessening his strength. If he continues to make the same motions for hours every day, he will further wear the joints down, and once the nerve is pinched, he won’t be able to work with the pain.”

“How can it be stopped?”

“It can’t. Every profession has its own pattern of wear. The body shows it after years of hard labor. All I can do is ease the symptoms and perhaps slow the progression. But time takes its toll on people.”

And he had a sinking feeling that the more time he’d spent with Thea, the harder it would be when she left his life again.

As Mr. Hollingsworth left, Mary tugged gently at Andre’s sleeve, her eyes wide with excitement about her recent role. “Andre,” she chirped, “will I be your nurse for real when I grow up?”

Andre chuckled, patting her head affectionately. “Perhaps, Mary. You did a splendid job today.”

Mary beamed, then glanced shyly at Thea, her curiosity seemingly piqued. “Miss Thea,” she asked innocently, “will you be Dr. Andre’s nurse, too? You look at him like my mama looks at my papa.”

Thea’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, and the child’s candid question momentarily swept away her composure. She exchanged glances with Andre, whose eyes danced with amusement and something deeper.

“Well, Mary,” Thea replied with a gentle smile, “I think I will leave the nursing to you, the expert.”

Mary giggled, satisfied with the answer, and twirled around the room, her energy infectious. The air between Thea and Andre shifted in the silence left by Mary’s innocent words. Andre shifted awkwardly, a warm flush creeping up his neck at Mary’s audacious suggestion. His gaze darted to Thea, who seemed to be battling her own rising color. He told himself it was merely the absurdity of the notion that painted her cheeks with such a rosy hue. Yet, as he fumbled for words, a glance at Thea’s eyes, wide with surprise, reassured him that decorum would soon restore their composure.

However, as Andre watched Thea wring her hands, Mary’s simple question lingered, weaving their unspoken feelings into something tender and hopeful.

It may be doomed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.