Page 37 of A Touch of Charm (Miracles on Harley Street #3)

“T his is going to cost you,” Prince Ralph said when he slammed the door to the library shut. Thea cringed but Stan and Alex remained steadfast.

“As I said, our gold mines are being plundered,” Alex said. “We don’t have the funds to pay you off.”

“Then I want her. I am entitled to her!” Ralph pointed at Thea as if she were a statue in the room.

“I never agreed to marry you,” she said as calmly as she could.

Ralph grimaced. “Why would anyone even ask?”

At that, Stan and Alex quirked their brows.

“Perhaps we can find a more diplomatic solution to unite our families’ interests?” Alex said.

“What else is there besides strategic marriages? We’ve been planning on this for as long as… I mean… even before I went on the grand tour of Europe, I knew the Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen princess would be at the ready for me.”

Thea bristled against that.

“First of all, Prince Ralph, I’m right here and shall be addressed with respect.”

Ralph sputtered something in German that Thea rather wished she hadn’t understood. But she saw her brothers’ faces and Stan balled his fists.

“The princess is addressing you, and you will listen,” Alex commanded. He was the older brother and raised his chin just like Father did when he accepted no rebuttal.

“What do you have to say, Princess,” Ralph muttered and gave her a once-over that made her feel instantly dirty. If she couldn’t even bear for him to look at her, she couldn’t ever bear his touch.

“Instead of using me as a bargaining chip, why don’t you consider a charter to prevent the exploitation of Transylvanian gold from its mines?”

Ralph waved her off as if she were an annoying fly.

“Hear her out, she’s a political mastermind.” Stan smiled in her direction and Thea’s chest warmed when she looked at her brothers’ supportive expressions.

“There’s nobody to give enough signatures to such a charter, even if I considered it.” Ralph shrugged.

“There’s an English earl, the Earl of Langley. A French marquis, a German count, two Transylvanian royals, and a de Lorraine from Italy in the ballroom. Shall I request their presence for an international convention—”

“You can’t be serious,” Ralph shouted, combing both hands through his thinning hair.

“She is. They are some of our closest friends and will gladly sign a document that stifles your hold on our sister, and plays into Baron von List’s enrichment schemes,” Stan said, now stepping close to Ralph. He was half a foot taller, and it pleased Thea immensely that Ralph had to look up at him.

“Call them in,” Stan said, and Alex left the room.

“Let me see it.” Ralph waved at Thea. “Do you have the charter here?”

“It’s upstairs,” she said. “I can bring it here.”

Stan crossed his arms and nodded in Thea’s direction.

Thea’s slippers barely made a sound against the carpeted steps as she hurried up the staircase, her heart racing in time with each step. The walls seemed to press in on her, the scent of old wood mingling with the faint smokiness of candles burning downstairs. She burst into her room and closed the door behind her, her breath shallow. On the small writing desk by the window, the charter lay folded and unassuming, yet it held everything. Her fingers trembled as she reached for it, the weight of its words mounting in her mind. Was it as complete as it needed to be? Could it guarantee the freedom she had fought for—the freedom she needed to forge a life with Andre? She unfolded the paper carefully and began scanning the lines, her determination flaring once more. It had to be enough. It just had to.

“Don’t!” a voice echoed through the hall. Thea froze at the sound of a muffled shout wafting through the upper halls, followed by the sharp crack of something breaking—porcelain, perhaps? Her breath caught as silence fell once again, tense and suffocating. No audible footsteps followed, but then her door flew open with a force that rattled the hinges. Prince Ralph stood in the doorway, his shadow dark and foreboding against the light from the hall. Alone.

“You can’t be here,” Thea said sharply, her voice low but dripping with fury. “Get out!”

Ralph’s lips curled into a mocking smirk as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a deliberate click.

“Wouldn’t you want that, Princess?” he drawled, his tone oozing with malice. “Or should I better stay and make sure we are found in a compromising position? Then you’ll have to marry me, charter or not.”

Her blood turned to ice as his hand moved to the key, turning it with a mocking slowness. The lock clicked once, twice, and she flinched. Swiftly closing the distance between them, he gripped her arms before she could shove past him. She thrashed, refusing to make it easy for him, but Ralph was fiercer. His hand came over her mouth, silencing her protests, while the other tore the charter from her trembling fingers.

“No!” her scream was swallowed by his palm as she watched him fling the papers onto the bed.

Thea’s breathing quickened. Cold sweat drenched her neck as her eyes darted to Ralph’s menacing body—far too close. His grip tightened, and he shoved her against the wall with a thud that knocked the air from her lungs.

Panic churned in Thea’s chest. She needed to escape. Now. Her body tensed, her mind racing for any opportunity. With every ounce of strength, she drove her knee upward. Ralph’s strangled growl of pain broke through the roar of her racing pulse as he staggered back, releasing her momentarily.

“You’ll set me on fire in bed, whether we’re married or not,” Ralph spoke onto his hand as if he tried to spit the words in her face.

But Thea didn’t listen.

She moved swiftly past him and to the connecting door to Mary’s room, gasping for air, but then the doorframe filled with another figure.

*

Andre’s grip was iron as he slammed Ralph against the heavy oak door, the force rattling the wall. The venom in his voice dripped with barely contained fury as he growled, “How dare you lay a hand on my fiancée?”

Ralph smirked faintly, the smugness of a man who had pushed too far, even in the face of being caught. His lack of fear only fanned the fire in Andre’s chest, his hands tightening at the man’s collar. “You’ll regret this, bastard!” Ralph began, but Andre wasn’t there for threats.

“I don’t care what you call me, but the bastard here is you!”

Before Ralph could answer, the thunder of hurried footsteps filled the hallway. Stan appeared first, breathing heavily, his arm cradled protectively to his chest. Alex followed right behind, with Nick, Alfie, and Felix surging into the corridor like a calculated wave of reinforcements. “Where’s Princess Thea?” they called in unison.

“He knew,” Stan called out, his voice strained but steady as he shot Ralph a murderous glare. “He knew exactly where I was injured. Twisted my arm just the right way—he wanted to make sure I was out of the picture completely.”

This was premeditated.

Andre’s head pivoted sharply toward Stan, and suddenly, a sickening sense of clarity slammed into him. The missing piece of this sprawling and vile puzzle fell into its rightful place.

“Ralph…” Andre said through gritted teeth, his voice low yet deadly. “It wasn’t just List, was it? You’ve been working with him. All this time.”

“He’s been sabotaging our gold mines to force me to marry him!” Thea called.

Ralph’s silence spoke louder than any denial could have. The faint sneer pulling at his lips stung like salt on an open wound, confirming Andre’s worst suspicions.

Stan took a slow step forward, pain evident in the way he moved, but determined, nonetheless. “You’re a coward,” he stated coldly, his words each like a dagger being driven home. “Using List to cover your tracks. Sending his lackeys to do your dirty work.”

“You’re not a man deserving of your title,” Andre barked, his rage barely tamed as he finally released Ralph, shoving him toward Alex and Alfie, who were ready to hold him down. The prince stumbled, but his expression’s momentary flare of indignation was quickly suppressed when Alex reached for him, his grip unrelenting.

“You won’t get away with this!” Ralph hissed through clenched teeth as Alex twisted his arm behind his back with little effort.

“Keep him out of my sight,” Thea called bitterly, apparently unable to stomach another moment of the man’s presence.

“You’ll pay for this!” Ralph spat toward Stan and Alex, but neither responded. They were already hauling him down the hallway, with Nick, Alfie, and Felix ensuring no escape would be possible.

Andre watched the group for a long moment, the weight of adrenaline still coursing through his veins—and yet, the moment his eyes settled on Thea, his world grew still.

From behind, he heard the quick sweep of skirts against the floor. “What’s all this commotion?” a familiar voice exclaimed, pulling him temporarily from his focus. Andre looked toward the staircase, where Anna appeared, her face flushed with worry. His mother trailed her, her sharp gaze scanning the chaotic aftermath. Her expression was just as it had been all those years ago in Florence.

This time, I didn’t run, Mama.

But all the noise, the shifting shadows, and the looming judgment melted into the background for Andre. He stepped closer to Thea, his voice soft now as he spoke just for her. “Are you all right?”

The world could burn. Ralph could scream. But in that moment, all Andre could see—truly see—was his princess.