Page 24 of A Touch of Charm (Miracles on Harley Street #3)

I n the late afternoon at 87 Harley Street, once the last patient had left, and Andre was heading to the kitchen for an early dinner. He didn’t have time to visit Stan yet but would make his way to Cloverdale House soon. Where Thea would be. He sighed, his heart heavy with the unspoken truth about his feelings.

Then there was a knock.

“Stan said it’s open during business hours,” a female voice said.

Thea?

She stepped in with Mary in tow. “Andre, hello!”

“Good evening. What brings you here? Is Stan’s fever higher? Who ensured your safety on the way here?” He went to the window and didn’t see the carriage. “Did you walk here? With List threatening… I would have come tonight… I was going to—” A million reasons darted through Andre’s mind, but he would have never guessed the correct one.

“This is for you!” Mary held out a folded card with gold-embossed letters. He didn’t recognize the initials.

“Stan is all right. He brought us here in his carriage on the way to the Langleys’ for a brief visit and he will be back soon. We wanted to deliver this personally.” Thea beamed as she shut the door behind herself.

Andre opened the card and read it.

You are cordially invited to grace the Viennese Ball hosted by Lord and Lady Ashford, which will be held at their esteemed residence on Saturday, the eleventh of November.

“A ball?” he asked.

Mary nodded vigorously.

“You risked your lives to invite me to a ball?” Andre crossed his arms.

“It’s Viennese. You ought to know about it.” Thea blushed and avoided his gaze as she spoke. “Stan kept us safe, and it’s hosted by a dear friend.”

Mary tapped her foot on the floor.

After a short pause, Andre smiled crookedly. “It’ll be an honor to attend. How could I refuse such a charming invitation by the most beautiful young woman,” he said to Mary, who was reaching for his hand and climbing on his feet. “Will you be there to dance a waltz with me?” But as Mary wrapped herself around him and wanted to be twirled around, Andre’s eyes met Thea’s.

“I hope you will grace me with the honor,” Andre said.

Thea turned a brighter shade of pink and nodded. “It would be my pleasure,” Thea said.

“Just like at your castle, Miss Thea. It will be a Viennese ball with a quadrille, beautiful gowns, and—” But Mary didn’t finish.

“That’s not what distinguishes the Viennese and London balls,” Thea tried to correct her.

But Mary was not letting reality interrupt her reverie. “Just like at your castle,” she said dreamily.

“I didn’t grow up in Vienna, Mary,” Thea said with a chuckle when Mary hopped off Andre’s feet, and they followed him to the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”

“Where’s your castle?” Mary asked when they returned to the practice. Andre opened the kitchen door for his guests, not that he usually had guests at the practice. It was strange not inviting them to his treatment room and leading the way to the relatively modest kitchen in the back of the first floor.

“In the Carpathian mountains,” Thea smiled, but she seemed absent-minded.

“I don’t know where that is. Is it a very magical place?” Mary pressed on.

They’d arrived in the kitchen, and Andre pinched his lips shut. This was usually a place filled with laughter, heated conversations, or intense discussions about how to pay the next month’s rent. Still, without Nick, Alfie, Felix, and Wendy, it was a modest kitchen with a relatively old-fashioned stove.

“I need to see the map,” Mary declared.

“I don’t have your books with me,” Thea said helplessly. “And I can hardly draw it for you, with valleys, mountains, the Barsa and Turcu Rivers.” She looked a little at a loss.

“I have an atlas,” Andre said.

Mary flashed him a bright smile, showing her baby teeth in two tiny rows.

“One moment, please,” he said, rushing out the door, up the stairs, and to his chambers as fast as he could so he could be back and look out for Thea and Mary’s safety. If he had known they would leave Cloverdale House, he wouldn’t have…

Ah, there was the old atlas on his small and overstuffed bookshelf near his armoire. He grabbed it and, on his way back out of the room, stopped by the small mirror on the wall over the wash basin and picked up his comb. For the lovely princess, he didn’t want his wavy hair to look too unkempt.

Andre stilled instantly and then splashed some cold water on his face.

This was not how he ought to think about Stan’s sister. His task was to keep her safe.

She’ll always be safe in my arms.

And wasn’t his job to ensure her safety when Stan wasn’t nearby? He wasn’t a bow street runner; he was a doctor. He’d certainly ensure her physical well-being, but he worried about her emotional well-being.

She’d run away from her home in Transylvania and hadn’t confided in him whether she planned to return.

I don’t want to lose her.

But he didn’t even have her…

Clutching the atlas in the brown leather binding under his arm, Andre walked down at a more adult pace than he’d sprinted upstairs like a green boy in heat.

“This was my atlas,” he said as he handed it to Thea.

“Why did you need maps when you studied humans?” Mary asked.

Andre chuckled, his heavy heart instantly forgotten when she asked her pointed questions. This little girl was astute, direct, and intelligent, reminding him of his sister.

“I didn’t always study bones, veins, and muscles. There was a time when I had to memorize borders, capitals, mountains, and rivers, just like you.”

Thea seemed to avoid his gaze, surveying the room without as much as the tiniest expression of disappointment. A princess would and should expect to be invited to the finest dining rooms in London, and… that was the idea!

“Are you hungry?” Andre asked Thea, but Mary jumped up and beamed at him.

“Oh yes! Do you have any milk?” Mary asked excitedly.

“Not here, but I’ll get something even better for you,” Andre said. “Whipped cream and custard.”

Mary clapped her little hands and jumped while tugging at Thea’s sash. “Can we go? Please?”

“Is it very far?” Thea asked but Andre could tell that he’d already won them over. “Only a five-minute walk from here.”

“Do they have the same madeleines you gave us earlier this week?” Thea asked, smiling.

Andre winked. “Even more!”

Said and done.

Within a few minutes, they entered the Patisserie de la Loire, a French bakery on the corner of Harley Street. As usual, the little bell over the door chimed as they entered, and the owner, as soon as he spotted Andre, smiled and called over the two customers ahead of him, “Madeleines are coming fresh from the oven, Monsieur le Doctoeur.”

He was a man with a kind smile, chubby cheeks, and an infectious smile, especially because he loved that he had the same name for him and Nick, Monsieur le Docteur.

“Are these the same madeleines you brought me as a gift?” Thea asked when Mary didn’t pay attention.

“Would it be alright if I said yes?” Andre asked. I could forever look into her beautiful eyes and never get enough.

*

Thea adjusted her shawl, the light November chill beginning to seep past the fabric as she took Andre’s offered arm. His warmth close to her side was a comfort, though she would never admit how much she relied on it. They walked slowly through Marylebone, the stones of the pavement clicking softly beneath their boots. The street was quiet except for the occasional creak of coach wheels. Rows of identical white houses lined the road, each one neat and proper, without a single crooked window or chipped paint to disturb their symmetry.

Each house had an air of order she couldn’t match. Perfectly symmetrical windows framed the entrances, black-painted doors standing steadfast in the center. Some had potted boxwood plants on either side of the doorstep, pruned into clean, round shapes as though their owners had measured every last leaf. The uniformity unsettled her. Marylebone was lovely, but it made her feel like an ink blot on a pristine sheet of paper. She was a stranger here, someone who didn’t belong and whose steps could be erased as easily as the morning mist on the glass panes.

Her own situation only deepened the contrast. She wasn’t just new to the city; she was in danger, and it was her own fault. Now, she found herself stumbling through an unfamiliar world, the ground seeming more uneven beneath her every hour, and the future uncertain for her entire family. The only thing she knew was that she wanted Andre close by, and that’s why she’d ventured to see him.

For, even when Marylebone’s order left her unsettled, Andre made her feel steady. His strong arm beneath her gloved hand kept her from drifting too far into thought. He seemed acutely aware of their surroundings—ever the protector.

Thea’s hand rested lightly on Andre’s arm, her stride falling in step with his as they walked along the cobbled street. Ahead of them, Mary skipped and twirled, her laughter curling through the air like a ribbon, unbothered by the adults’ subdued conversation.

“You never answered my question,” Thea said softly, glancing up at him.

Andre’s gaze remained ahead, his expression composed, save for the slight tightening of his jaw.

“Which one?”

“The languages,” she replied. “You speak so many, but why? And why choose this? A doctor in Marylebone, instead of the larger life you seem capable of.”

He paused a moment before responding, guiding them around a cart laden with vegetables. “Circumstance chooses for us far more often than we choose for ourselves.”

“Circumstance,” she repeated, her tone skeptical but not unkind. “Convenient, but unconvincing.”

A slow exhale escaped him. He looked down briefly at her, then back at the uneven stones beneath their feet. “When the world is at war, no one’s path is straightforward. I did what I could to ensure survival. For myself, and for the family I lost along the way.”

Thea’s arm stiffened slightly against his, but she didn’t loosen her hold. “You lost them?” she asked, her voice quiet but pressing.

“I did,” he said simply. “When I fled… Vienna was no longer safe. For a while, I thought we’d scattered as far as we could. I searched for them after the war, but there was only silence.” He kept his tone measured, though the words carried an undertone of resignation she couldn’t fail to catch. “So I did as I had promised and cultivated my craft.”

“You wanted to make them proud?” Thea asked.

“Yes, my father was a doctor, and my mother was very devoted him.”

“Military records must exist if Napoleon’s army took them,” Thea ventured, her voice suddenly steadier. “You made inquiries, didn’t you?”

He nodded once, sharply. “Many. None returned.”

Her brow furrowed, her voice dipping lower. “But why wouldn’t you use genealogic resources? I mean, wouldn’t you—”

“I couldn’t examine the parish records in all of Europe. They could be anywhere,” he interrupted, though his tone contained no trace of impatience. “Too many dangers remained for those of my blood. Napoleon’s hatred did not vanish with his empire, and his old soldiers needed little reason to act.”

They walked on a few paces in silence, the smattering of a horse’s hooves filling the space. Finally, Thea tilted her head, her gaze searching his profile.

“Do you still hope they will find you?” she asked.

Andre’s lips pressed tightly together. “Hope,” he murmured, as if testing the taste of the word. “I carried it once, but after a time…” His voice lowered. “After a time, hope becomes another weight to bear.”

Her hand tightened on his arm, though he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—meet her eyes. “That doesn’t mean they’re lost,” she said after a moment, her voice so quiet it barely reached above the breeze.

“They’ll never be lost if I carry them in my heart, Thea. I’d give anything to be with my family again.”

I ran away from mine.

Ahead of them, Mary’s laughter rang out again as she hopped from one stone to the next. Thea looked up at him again, forcing a faint smile despite the ache in her chest. “Perhaps, hope isn’t as heavy as you imagine. If only you would share it.”

His expression softened, but before he could speak, Mary called out, skipping back toward them. The spell of the moment broke, and Andre only smiled faintly as he turned his attention forward once more.

“One day, I’ll have a family of my own perhaps. For now, Nick, Wendy, Alfie, and Felix are the family I have.”

Thea gave his arm a squeeze but could do no more.

Mary, of course, had noticed. Mary always noticed. Just the night before, a maid had commented on how little she had slept and dared to speak of Andre. But how could Thea explain it? Even she couldn’t untangle why every stray thought eventually circled back to him. Somehow, Andre had become the pivot on which her world turned, his steadiness the thing that kept her upright when it felt like her knees might give way. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, this lived-in certainty of his presence in her life, but it was there now, settled into her like roots twining into soil.

They paused at a corner, and Thea looked down the next street. Another row of identical houses stretched into the evening haze, lit only by the glow of a streetlamp. She tightened her hold on Andre’s arm, grounding herself in his solidity. The streets might all look the same to her, but with Andre near, she told herself she might just learn where she was going.