Page 19 of A Touch of Charm (Miracles on Harley Street #3)

Cloverdale House, later that evening…

T hea found the upholstered chairs too hard as she sat beside the flickering light of the hearth, her posture straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The ticking of the clock on the mantel marked the hour with a steady rhythm, each tick a reminder that it was now past eight and soon Mary’s bedtime, but Thea still didn’t want to be alone. She glanced at Mary, sprawled on the thickly patterned rug, diligently brushing her toy cat’s painted-on fur with a tiny brush. The girl’s soft hum of concentration filled the otherwise quiet parlor at Cloverdale House.

“Do you think she misses me?” Mary asked without lifting her eyes from her self-imposed campaign. Her dark curls, like her mother’s, tumbled over her face.

Thea hesitated. Mary’s tiny fingers paused, hovering over her toy cat, Lady Felicity Whiskers. The fire cracked, sending a sharp pop like an inconvenient truth Thea couldn’t ignore.

“I think your mother has been very busy supporting your father’s growing business,” Thea replied carefully, smoothing her skirt over her knee to avoid Mary’s gaze. It was the same answer she’d given before.

Mary sighed, her shoulders slumping. “She said the traveling was exhausting, so she didn’t take me along. If she dislikes it so much, why must she go?”

A thorn of frustration pricked Thea’s chest. Of course, a child of six could not yet untangle the delicate, relentless strands of social obligation. For Mary, all that mattered was the mother she rarely seemed to see—a mother who avoided goodnight kisses for the promise of brief exchanges in candlelit ballrooms.

“Sometimes,” Thea said slowly, “ladies must do things they’d rather not because it’s expected of them. You’d do well to remember that when you’re older.”

Mary snorted—an utterly unladylike sound that made Thea fight the urge to chuckle. “When I’m older, I’ll remember not to marry a man I don’t know. I want to be exactly like you!”

Surprise unfurled in Thea’s chest, warm and disarming. Oh dear! What she’d tried to teach Mary didn’t seem half as important as the example she set.

“Like me?” Thea asked, her voice softer than she intended. She leaned forward as if moving closer; she might better understand Mary’s bright, earnest expression.

Mary didn’t hesitate, her head bobbing with unwavering confidence. “Of course. You don’t have to do what anyone else says. You read all those books, and you know so many things. You’re brave, too. I can tell even when you’re in danger. And you use everything you know to follow your heart.”

Thea’s throat tightened, and she glanced down at the toy cat in Mary’s hands, the cluster of patterns on the rug underneath.

“Oh, Mary,” she murmured, searching for the right words. How could she explain that her bravery wasn’t a choice but a necessity? That her independence bore a cost that no child could—or should—envision? That she hadn’t followed her heart as much as run away from her fears?

If I followed my heart, I’d go to Andre.

“You know, Mary, it’s what you know and what your parents give you that you will take on any adventure in life.”

Mary blinked as if she didn’t understand. “My parents never take me with them on adventures. They left me with you.”

“Yes, and it could be much worse, you know.”

“I do. But they don’t know that I have my very own princess.” Mary rose and climbed onto Thea’s lap. “And I want to be a secret princess just like you.”

I wouldn’t wish that it upon anyone.

When Mary put her little hand on Thea’s cheek in such an honest gesture of affection and admiration, Thea nearly burst into tears. Stan had been right; she’d missed a chance to help her family secure their geopolitical standing. The girl’s usual bubbly enthusiasm was fleeting, though, and soon enough, her head rested heavily on Thea’s shoulder. “I can’t even remember the last time Mama stayed to hear about my lessons.” Her whisper was quiet, yet it carried across the room as if the walls bore witness.

Thea felt a familiar ache open in her chest whenever she made excuses for Mrs. White. She could not say what Mary wanted to hear, no matter how much she longed to put the girl’s mind at ease. And yet, Mary deserved honesty, or as much as Thea dared offer. She picked a blue coverlet that hung over the back of her chair and wrapped it around Mary.

“It’s not because you’ve done anything wrong,” Thea said when her voice felt steady enough. She reached out, brushing a stray curl from Mary’s temple. “Your lessons are perfectly fine. You’re clever, and your mother knows it. I keep a record, and she can read about your achievements when she returns.”

Mary nodded, sucking in her upper lip. “But you did something wrong. You scared me today.”

“Me?” Thea feigned ignorance, but it was plain to see that Mary was worried when Andre brought her back to Cloverdale House. Mary nestled against Thea, and even though it was more than her role as governess allowed, Thea hugged her little ward.

“Were you and my brother very worried about me?”

Mary nodded.

“Don’t tell anyone, but he worries too much. Our father always says that. He sent him to learn from the greatest military strategists, and when Stan came back, he came back with a deeper understanding of his worries than what Father had expected.”

“What did he expect?”

“Bravery, probably. A warrior spirit and courage.” Where to begin with a list of Father’s expectations that she and her siblings rarely lived up to.

“I think he’s wrong.” Mary straightened but remained on Thea’s lap.

“Prince Ferdinand is wrong?” How refreshing! Thea couldn’t stop the smile now. She would like to see her father’s face when Mary gave him one of her common-sense lessons. “Tell me.”

“For one, one should understand the dangers before going on an adventure. That’s what Mother said to me. She didn’t know where the business trips could take her and Father, so she didn’t want to take me along.”

That gave Thea pause, for it was uncanny, and yet she’d not even considered the consequences of running away herself. “What else do you think is wrong with it?”

“Something is missing.” Mary had her precocious tone again. “The room for love.”

“Room. For love.” Thea felt her eyebrows shoot up, but she couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Yes, it takes up so much of the heart. I saw the book with the human heart in Andre’s office, and the ribcage is made of hard bones that keep all the love inside safe.”

If Thea had an answer, she would have given it. She smoothed her hand down Mary’s cheek instead.

“An excellent plan,” Thea said, unable to hide her smile. “How does one make room then?”

Mary looked at her, her blue eyes glinting in the firelight. Thea snugly tucked the pale-blue coverlet around Mary’s shoulders, smoothing it with deliberate precision.

“That’s enough stalling, Mary. It’s time for bed,” she said, her tone gentle but firm.

Mary wrinkled her nose. “I’m not stalling, Miss Thea,” she said with an innocence only a child could muster. Yet her hands clung to the edge of the coverlet, her fingers curling into the soft fabric.

Before Thea could press her further, the door opened quietly. She turned quickly, her hand still resting on the blanket. Andre stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the room, sharp and alert as always. “Pardon my intrusion, but is there anything else you need before I go to sleep?” he asked, his voice steady, though softer than usual.

Thea blinked, caught off guard. “You’re not leaving tonight?” she asked, straightening instinctively.

“No,” Andre replied calmly, stepping further into the room. “I’ll sleep in my office here in case you or Stan need me. There are servants at every door standing guard, too.”

Though she masked it, a flicker of relief passed through Thea, nodding once. “That’s… reassuring,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure whom she was trying to reassure—Mary or herself.

“Can you tuck me in?” Mary asked suddenly, her tiny voice breaking the stillness. She looked up at Andre, her wide blue eyes filled with hope.

Andre hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Of course,” he said, stepping closer to Mary and picking her up.

Apparently, Thea wasn’t the only female who enjoyed it when Andre carried her.

Thea shifted slightly to give him space, watching as he crouched beside Mary and took her in his arms. Within minutes, he’d carried her upstairs, and Thea led the way.

Once Mary was in bed, he adjusted the blanket where it had slipped near her feet, tucking it securely along her sides. His hands, always so purposeful, now moved with care Thea hadn’t expected.

“There,” said Andre, sitting back slightly on the edge of Mary’s bed as he met Mary’s gaze. “All set. Goodnight, little princess.”

“Goodnight,” Mary murmured, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips.

Thea reached out, brushing a curl from Mary’s temple, her fingers light and brief. “Sleep well,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on the child as her breathing began to even out.

“Now you have two princesses to protect,” Mary mumbled, her eyes closed already.

*

Andre straightened; his heart did that unsettling leaping again, and his gaze met Thea’s.

Two princesses to protect.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Thea stepped back quietly, letting the warmth of the chamber settle around them.

“Thank you,” she said at last, her voice low enough not to wake Mary.

Andre inclined his head. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

She nodded, watching as he turned to leave the room as quietly as he’d entered. Thea lingered for a moment longer, her eyes falling on Mary’s peaceful face. Then, with a final glance at the sleeping child, she carefully closed the door behind her.

Don’t even think about staying in the dark hall with her.

Go away.

Andre halted because his upbringing required the lady—the princess—to walk before he did. And yet, he knew he shouldn’t linger near her because it was so hard not to look at her. He shuffled uncomfortably and then nodded again. To her, he was just a doctor. Surely, missteps in etiquette could be excused.

“Andre, wait!”

He deflated.

But, of course, he stayed.

Anything for my princess.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” Thea wrung her hands and came to Andre’s side, eyeing him with the innocence of a woman who surely didn’t know how alluring she was, especially not in the dim light under the flickering wall sconces in the halls.

Note to self: Tell Nick and Pippa that brighter hallway lighting will be needed at Cloverdale House.

Before Andre could suggest something prudent, bright perhaps, such as enlisting Stan for a nightcap to help Thea sleep, she closed the distance and whispered in his ear. “Mary said the funniest thing, that my father is wrong.” Thea chuckled. “If it weren’t the words from a child or if I said such a thing, it would be bordering on treason.”

Andre got goosebumps from the butterfly touch of Thea’s breath close to his neck, and he tilted his head to face her.

Bad move.

Her eyes were aglow, and she licked her lips.

Andre was instantly hard.

“Let’s walk a little.” He gestured toward the staircase. Take her to your office. Sit at opposite sides of the desk, putting three feet between you and her.

“Could you show me the orangery?” Thea asked as she descended the stairs and was only two steps ahead.

“Surely, you’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

“But I’d like to know more about the plants. Perhaps I can teach Mary there tomorrow. I’d rather not venture to the park again.”

Andre’s chest tightened again when he recalled the danger in which he had found Thea only hours before.

“The orangery has a lock inside the door that leads out. Let’s make sure it’s closed.”

And so they walked downstairs and through the quiet halls of Cloverdale House. Her proximity sent an unrelenting awareness through him, his body taut with a tension he couldn’t name. Every fiber of him seemed drawn to her—her warmth, her subtle lavender scent, the unintentional softness of her presence that lingered like a touch.

When they arrived in the glass-encased building of the orangery, beads of water ran down the large windows. A servant rose from a stool next to the only door leading to the park.

“Dr. Fernando, how can I assist you?”

Don’t leave us alone.

His hands itched with the memory of holding her, of feeling the fragile strength beneath the silk of her gown, the way her lithe figure had molded so briefly against him. She wasn’t just alluring—though even in the simplest attire, she could command his full attention. No, she was something far more impossible to resist. There was a vulnerability in how her hand trembled just slightly when she brushed back a loose strand of hair from her cheek, leaving him inexplicably undone.

“I need to speak with Dr. Fernando alone, please,” Thea said.

The princess wishes it, and I will oblige.

With anything.

The servant bowed, and Andre took a step back.

Every time he touched her, a jolt shot through his veins that nearly magnetized him, forcing him to get closer to her even though he mustn’t.

When the servant had left, Thea walked through the rows of raised beds and brushed her fingers over the foliage of the many plants. “What are these potted ones? Their leaves look like citrus.”

“Oranges and lemons,” Andre remained a raised bed away at a safe distance. Thea nodded as if she knew the answer.

Is she testing me?

“And these?” she asked, pointing at a tall, prickly plant that looked like an octopus extending its tentacles into the air.

“Aloe Vera. It’s not a cactus,” Andre said. “It’s used for its soothing properties on skin irritations and burns. The juice is gelatinous and can be applied directly.”

He was ready for the next question from Thea, the governess. He could protect Thea, the princess. But he knew he couldn’t withstand Thea, the woman.

She seemed most interested in being alone with him and had dragged him to where there were only the plants as their witnesses, confusing Andre’s interpretation of her intentions.

Unless she liked him back…. The thought lingered in his mind.

She didn’t have any intentions. Stay away from her. Basta!

“Are any of these useful for my brother?”

Ah, she was being the concerned sister. Andre exhaled deeply. Speaking to her as Stan’s doctor was indeed the easiest path forward.

“Neem is helpful.” He pointed at a little tree with the elongated, jagged leaves.

“I’ve never heard of neem,” Thea said as Andre came to her side and picked a leaf.

“It tastes bitter, but the powdered leaves promote healing, cleansing of the blood, and speed up the healing of wounds.”

Thea took the leaf from him and held it to her mouth.

“No, don’t eat it,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with concern. Gently, his hand encircled hers, the warmth of his touch slowing her impulsive gesture. “The leaves need to be dried first. As they are, they could upset your stomach.”

She stilled under the firm yet tender hold of his fingers. Her gaze slowly lifted to meet his, questioning but unguarded.

“And you care if my stomach turns?” she whispered with a hint of a teasing smile, though her voice trembled faintly.

He smiled—a small, earnest thing, like a secret between them. “I care about more than that.”

Her breath caught, the air between them charged yet unspoken. She allowed her hand to rest loosely in his grasp, her lips curving into a delicate smile of surrender. “Then I suppose I’ll trust you… about the leaves.”

Their eyes lingered, the moment unexpected yet filling the space with more than words could hold.

Don’t engage. Look away.

Pick a flower for her.

No!

“I overheard a part of your conversation with Mary,” Andre said.

Thea curled her lips downward, and Andre wanted nothing more in this instant than to kiss the sadness away.

“She’s a deep thinker but still a child. I can’t tell her how I failed my family.”

He studied her as if her words carried the weight of a secret she had yet to share. “Thea, you didn’t fail,” he said softly, his fingers lingering near hers as though afraid to break their fragile connection.

She looked away. “You don’t understand how we were raised,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

I do—more than you know.

But he couldn’t tell her that he was a Habsburg bastard. She didn’t want a Habsburg prince, so how could he ever measure up?

“Stan was… everything good that came from our family. He bore all their expectations so easily, so gracefully. I… I stumbled with the most important of all steps.” Thea flattened her lips.

Silence stretched between them for a moment, heavy but not uncomfortable, like a shared breath before confession.

Andre leaned closer, his tone gentler now. “Thea, strength isn’t always measured by how easily you carry the weight. Sometimes, it’s about continuing, even when it feels impossible. And that… that is where I see you.”

Her eyes flicked back to his, surprise mingling with something unspoken. “You’re kind to say that,” she said, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile. “But you saw how he endured—how he fought, even when he feared for my life. He’s defending our family here in London. Stan is… perfect. Even in his weakness, he is perfect.”

Andre shook his head slowly, his gaze unwavering. “Perfection doesn’t make a man loved, Thea. You think your parents placed value only on what he could endure, but true love—it’s what remains when all the expectations fall away. And I would wager they saw that in you, too, even if you couldn’t feel it.”

She startled slightly as though his words had brushed against a truth she’d tried to hide. Her voice softened. “I don’t know if I’ll believe that. Perhaps not for a long time.”

He gave her a faint smile, his thumb brushing her wrist—a deliberate, grounding touch. “Then I’ll believe it for you until you can.”

“What makes you so sure?” she asked.

“My family. They loved me so much, and that love risked their lives. So I had to leave.”

“You left out of love?” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s as absurd as it is painful, I imagine.” Her eyes glistened, but instead of tears, something lighter was in her expression. “You have a most peculiar way of making me feel as if I’m not utterly hopeless,” she admitted, a delicate laugh escaping her lips.

He straightened slightly but did not release her hand. “Maybe that’s because you aren’t.” Then, after a pause, his voice shifted, a hint of teasing returning to lighten the moment’s weight.

“Now, tell me—did Stan grimace as much as you think he did when he swallowed that neem?”

Thea laughed more freely this time, her fingers tightening slightly around his. “Oh, he grimaced all right. You could tell from the twitch of his nose. But still, he swallowed all of it.”

“I’m sure I’d disappoint again if I had to,” she said, her smile faltering again.

“But you never did anything to disappoint him!”

“I did! In disappointing Father, I let them all down. After all these years of training to dance, to study French etiquette, to write to ladies in waiting at every notable royal court in Europe, and the countless lessons in pianoforte, mathematics, Latin, French, German, English, and the many, many fittings for dresses so that I always look presentable—after everything, I didn’t want to do the one thing my family expected from me.”

“Marry Prince Ralph?”

“It was all Father needed me for.”

“Thea, you make it sound like your father doesn’t love you.”

“Not for who I am, no. He loved presenting me as a pretty and well-cultivated bargaining chip. He was proud of all the promise I embodied, my ability to perform my role as the dutiful daughter, and especially the fact that I succeeded.”

“Because you’re smart.”

“But that’s not what he sees. Never did! And it’s not enough to make him smile at me anymore. Do you know that he avoided eye contact after I refused to dance with Prince Ralph at the ball?”

Andre shook his head.

“It was the result he wanted and the steps leading there,” she continued. “When I said I’d refuse Ralph when he came to the ball, Father looked at me as if he’d lost me. But in reality, I lost my father that night.”

Her voice wavered, the bitterness seeping through each word. “He never saw me as Thea, just the sum of what I could achieve for him, his ambitions, his plans. When I chose for myself something that didn’t align with his vision, it wasn’t just disappointment in his eyes—I saw disdain. That night, I realized he never truly knew me, and maybe he never wanted to. He just wanted his perfect bargaining chip, and I could never be that, not if it meant losing who I am.”

If only you knew how badly I’d like to catch you.

*

Tears welled up in Thea’s eyes as the memories flooded back. “Every time I tried to talk to Father after that, it was like speaking to a wall. He wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t see me. I thought our love was conditional, based on his dreams, not mine. It broke me, knowing I’d never be enough for him.”

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt?” Andre asked gently.

“I did. He didn’t accept it. He said he couldn’t hear it anymore; he couldn’t suffer the pain.”

“The pain to hear how you felt?”

“Yes, he didn’t acknowledge my feelings at all. The effect my failure had on him, not how I fared, was too much for him to bear. And every time he laid eyes on me, I saw the sorrow and the disgust. My presence weighed on him. So I left.”

“That’s not possible, Thea. It’s just not—”

“Oh, but he said so! I trapped him at Bran Castle without hope of establishing the rights for the monarchy.”

“What?” Andre grimaced.

“Well, think about it. Since I didn’t make the liaison with the Habsburg family possible, he will continue to fight the rivalry among everyone who wants a hold of the region.”

“Or you fueled it further,” Andre mumbled.

“Exactly. I could have prevented it, but I made it worse. And Stan knows it, too. That’s why he called Alex for help.”

Andre crossed his arms and looked at the gas lamp hanging from the center of the orangery as if the solution to the dilemma could float down from the light source and brighten the future ahead.

“But he’s your father, he loves you. There ought to be more understanding.”

“Love and hate are close, and the pain I caused him was too great. I tipped the scale and used up the love he had. What’s left is something else that runs deep, but it’s not love.”

“How do you know that’s true? Perhaps you need time to heal the wounds. Surely, he won’t put the connection with the Habsburg family over his daughter.”

His words sank into her, slow and steady, like the warmth of the fire in his eyes reaching her heart. How could he see the fractures in her practiced composure so clearly? Even those she’d worked so hard to smooth over? And why was it so easy to talk to him?

“He already has. How he looks at me—you weren’t there, but it was with such disgust.” Thea’s voice cracked, her eyes burning with tears.

Andre reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Maybe there’s still hope, Thea. Maybe with time, he’ll come to understand.”

She shook her head, the pain evident in her expression. “I don’t think so. It’s like everything I ever did right vanished in that single moment of defiance. He can’t see past his disappointment to recognize my pain. I’m a living disappointment, not a daughter with valid sentiments.” Thea’s voice dropped to a whisper, her emotions pressing down upon her.

“Shouldn’t you go home and resolve this misunderstanding?” he asked as if her answer could decide his fate along with hers.

“Don’t you think I tried?”

Thea sighed. “All winter, I tried. Every attempt to reconcile was met with resistance, like I’m wounding him anew every time I speak. Mother shields him, protects his broken heart from the truth I carry. She’s become this barrier, constantly reminding me to keep my emotions in check, not to upset him further.”

“He’s under a lot of pressure. That’s why Stan came to England and is trying to resolve the problem with the gold mines. And Baron von List is blocking every bit of progress, isn’t he?” Andre asked.

“And threatening us now. He even endangered Mary when he sent his—”

“I agree that the Prussian attackers probably came from him, but can we be certain?”

“Alex will help us to find out.”

“And if your brothers resolve the problem with the gold mines, it would set you free?”

“Nothing would set me free, Andre. I’ve lost value as a bargaining chip. I’m a promissory note for a broken promise.”

“Where do they think you are? How are they covering for your loss of…”

“Reputation? You can say it, Andre. I suppose they told a lie. Perhaps I’m shopping for dresses in Vienna or taking voice lessons at the opera in Budapest.” Thea gestured as if the lies her parents would tell to explain her failures away could be as vast as the ocean.

I don’t care anymore.

Andre narrowed his eyes. She realized he believed her despite trying to downplay the rift between her and their father. Yet, he listened to her feelings and stayed loyal to Stan. Andre was an upstanding man in every sense. And she trusted him wholeheartedly.

“Those last few months at home were like walking on shattered glass, trying to navigate a familiarity where my very essence was too painful for them to bear. The conversations that could mend our broken bonds are the ones they refuse to have. And every time they push me away, it breaks my heart again.”

Thea’s breath hitched as she continued, “I see their avoidance, the way they divert the subject or leave the room when I try to open up. It’s as if my feelings are a poison they can’t tolerate, and they are the victims of my bad choices.”

“But this was the first choice you ever made. You’ve always been the exemplary daughter, haven’t you?”

For the first time, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe she wasn’t entirely alone in this world. Even though she wasn’t sure how to continue, the excitement and possibilities were much more encouraging than a life shackled to a Habsburg Prince she didn’t like.

And then someone came to mind she thought she might like quite a lot.