Page 36 of A Touch of Charm (Miracles on Harley Street #3)
T his was the end.
That night at Anna’s townhouse, where the ball was about to begin, Thea had a foreboding sensation.
Andre could feel the danger vibrating in the air. Although he’d agreed with Alex and Stan that they wouldn’t leave Baron von List out of sight, the moment the Prussian stepped into the ballroom, Andre’s heart fell to his knees. He’d also seen it in the eyes of Nick, Alfie, and Felix, when their eyes met Andre’s—List entered as if he’d been invited.
Stan came to Andre’s side just as he did the night Thea had been abducted.
“I can’t fight with my injury,” Stan said, “but if he as much as tries to come close to my sister again, I’ll find a way to—”
“It won’t come to that,” Alfie said when he came between them. This time, Bea wasn’t with him, rather she stood next to Thea. And with them were Nick and his wife Pippa. As the daughters of an earl and a duke, they were following the princess everywhere that evening.
“The ladies will not be leaving her alone, and we won’t let List out of sight.”
In the far end of the room, however, Andre spotted Alex. He spoke agitatedly with another man who looked royal, dressed in an impeccable uniform.
“I’m going to see what the matter is,” Stan announced and walked away.
Laughter and music intertwined with the clinking of crystal glasses, as the crowd ebbed and flowed in a seamless, elegant chaos. Yet, amid the splendor, Andre’s eyes never strayed far from Thea. The air felt just like that night at Alfie’s wedding, his chest tightening with an unrelenting unease—the kind that turned even the most gilded gathering into a place fraught with shadows only he could see. But Thea smiled graciously, holding court in the ballroom. She belonged there like the chandeliers, she was the sparkling light of the ball.
And then Andre’s breath hitched. That night that seemed like so long ago, it was Mary who’d been caught, too.
At first, he walked. Yet, his heartbeat quickened and by the time he reached the stairs, he took two at a time. He rushed upstairs and saw a door open. He followed it and saw little Mary wrapped in what seemed like a tablecloth with a doily over her head. Alone.
Phew! Relief washed over him when she smiled at him.
Her room was a full nursery stuffed with toys, a rocking horse, and lovingly decorated with frilly curtains. In the back of his mind, he wondered why his sister had a nursery if she was only pregnant now, but sadness washed over him, and he realized it hadn’t been a room as much as an unfulfilled dream.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Andre asked.
“I’m trying to dance to the music, but I don’t know how,” she said, tugging at the sash at her waist.
Andre remembered his sister, Anna, when she was a little girl. She also put doilies over her head and wore shawls, pretending to be a princess dancing at the balls in Vienna.
The music swelled, and he counted. “One, two, three. One, two, three.”
Mary eyed him with an innocent vulnerability that shattered his resolve to only pay her a short visit and return downstairs.
So he reached out, took a long and deep bow, and offered his hand. “May I have this dance, Miss Mary?”
She beamed at him and hopped onto his feet just as before; the doily fell off her head, and she hugged his stomach. “Thank you, Andre.”
“It is my honor and greatest pleasure, Miss Mary.” He spoke with all the pomp he could muster.
And so they went through the room, the dolls sitting on the bed being the onlookers, and the milk and biscuits on the side table taking the place of a buffet with punch.
But when the music died downstairs, Andre heard the metal clinking on the glass.
An announcement.
Whatever it was, he felt he didn’t belong and wished to reach for Thea, pull her out and into his arms. But he couldn’t love his princess and remove her from this world he’d only known from the margins. For as long as Andre could remember, he’d been with the Habsburgs, just not one of them.
“You ought to go to her,” Mary said. “I saw the bouquet of roses.”
“My sister prepared them,” Andre muttered. “Now, I’m here to dance with you.”
“But isn’t Thea waiting downstairs for you?”
Andre dropped his shoulders, and Mary stepped off his feet. “She’s in love with you. I know it, she told me.”
She told me, too.
“Don’t you wish to marry her? Shouldn’t you announce your engagement downstairs?”
“I do, very much, but it’s not that simple.” How could he ever explain the hierarchy of aristocracy to the child without a title? And how could he tell her that he was a bastard himself? Otherwise, he’d be the Habsburg offering for Thea’s hand now. She was holding court among the cream of the crop of the ton, while he just couldn’t get past the fact that he was the bastard who wanted to marry her more than he wanted to breathe the air that kept him alive. Just for a little while longer, he wanted to allow her to shine and remain shielded from the scandal their union would surely cause.
Andre tried to hear what was going on in the ballroom downstairs. He went closer to the open doors to the balcony of Mary’s chamber, and there was barely a sound emanating from the ball.
“What do you think is going on downstairs?” Mary asked.
“I don’t know. All I can hear are the crickets chirping.”
“Crickets? The little beetles?”
Crickets were not beetles, but considering Mary’s grimace, Andre thought it better not to tell her about the distinctions of insects. He remembered Anna’s dislike of the smaller crawling creatures, while he and his brother liked to see them hop in Tuscany and follow them around the cypress trees. Anna preferred kittens and puppies.
“I don’t hear any crickets. Beetles don’t make sounds,” Mary said matter-of-factly.
“Then what do you think this sound is?”
It was loud and clear.
“Stars.”
“What?” Andre squatted so he could face Mary.
“The sounds at night. Like this—” She cupped her ear to show she was listening to the chirping outside. “This is the sound the stars make when they sparkle.”
“That’s so sweet,” Andre said. His chest tightened. A sense of romanticism in Mary’s worldview gave him hope. It was children like her that made the world a better place.
“You have to go and tell Thea that you love her,” Mary said.
“She knows.”
“But she’s alone at a ball, and you are here with me. You have to claim your princess, or else someone else will.”
And then there was a thud and a scream.
Andre’s arms grew cold, and his legs heavy.
Thea cried out nearby.
*
A few minutes earlier, downstairs at the ball…
Thea felt as though this was the ball she’d missed the night she refused Prince Ralph. Well, truth be told, she hadn’t made it to the ball that night, and this was different. Tonight, she knew she’d find Andre and nestle into his embrace… but where was Andre?
Thea scanned the room and saw Stan approaching Alex who seemed consumed in an argument with another man.
Oh no! White breeches, a black coat with golden buttons…
Thea excused herself from Pippa and Bea and felt all the eyes on her as she walked toward her brothers.
Red cuffs and golden lapels.
Thea’s pulse quickened and she wasn’t sure how her feet carried her there, but she wasn’t going to run away this time.
And when she came to her brothers’ side, they stilled.
Before her, the man bowed, and Anna appeared with a bouquet of red roses.
The Viennese tradition was the crowning event of the evening. The prince would offer a bouquet of roses—and if she accepted them, they’d be effectively betrothed.
Never!
The man in the Viennese uniform was Prince Ralph, Thea knew it the moment she saw Anna’s look. He turned to receive the flowers from the hostess of the ball, but Anna stepped back, clutching the roses in her arms.
“What is the meaning of this?” Prince Ralph asked.
The music stopped.
As did Thea’s heart.
“As I tried to explain, she doesn’t wish to marry you.” Stan squared his shoulders.
“And we represent our father while on diplomatic mission in England, thus, as we explained, we’d like to dissolve the betrothal agreement,” Alex said.
“No.”
Thea narrowed her eyes. That was all he had to say, no?
“Is something the matter?” A tall blond man stepped through the crows with a smug grin that seemed as unsettling as a Venetian theatrical mask.
“Baron von List,” Stan nodded politely, shooting Alex and Thea warning looks, “this is a private matter.”
“Apparently not, or else you wouldn’t make such a spectacle of yourselves,” the Prussian said with a slightly open vowel sound that betrayed his accent.
Prince Ralph turned to Anna. “Can we speak in private somewhere?”
Anna pointed at a door off the side wall. “In the library over there, Your Royal Highness.”
Where’s Andre? Thea’s heart thrummed as she led the way as etiquette required, followed by her brothers and Prince Ralph. Everyone watched her, the runaway princess’s fall from grace. The scandal would fuel enough shame from England to Transylvania, there was no doubt. But that didn’t matter.
As long as they don’t wage war over me…