Page 6 of A Touch of Charm (Miracles on Harley Street #3)

T hea was glad they were staying at Andre’s practice that night and not only because she knew Stan might need the doctor at night but also because she didn’t want to be far from him. Stan was going to sleep in the apothecary’s room, right next to Thea. It had been lived in but seemed abandoned now, with no personal items left, except for a shelf full of books about botany, herbs, medicinal plants, and alchemy. They were all upstairs, but she heard Andre moving around downstairs, perhaps cleaning his treatment room or doing something else terribly smart and alluring.

Thea and Stan kept their voices low.

“I have to send Mary’s parents a note,” she started, looking around the room.

“And explain what exactly? That you are a princess on the run, in hiding, in the aftermath of an attack, a kidnapping, and in London?”

Thea pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

“Please, not at this hour. Let’s tell them that Mary’s safe tomorrow morning. We should sleep a little,” Stan said as he winced and let his arm hang from the freshly sutured shoulder.

“Where?” Thea eyed the bed in the room, a chair behind a desk. It was neat and well-lived in, but most certainly not a large bed.

“Well, we can’t stay here at the practice. You won’t bring Mary to the Langleys’, or will you? It’s where I’ve been staying.”

“You can take Nick’s tonight if you wish. I’ll sleep just upstairs,” Andre offered.

“She’s not sleeping in his bed, Andre. Thank you, but it’s out of the question.”

Andre reddened at the implication.

“I need to keep an eye on her; she’s bound to run away again,” Stan added.

“Oh, am I being kept captive like an animal?” Thea seethed. “Threatened to jeopardize my virtue by sleeping in beds that have been left behind by married men?” True, it wouldn’t be proper to sleep in the bed of the oculist, but it probably wasn’t as bad as what she was imagining it would be like to sleep in the bed of the dashing orthopedist, whether he was in it or not, but she wouldn’t let her brother keep her caged either.

With his good hand, Stan rubbed his eyes and let out a frustrated groan. “Andre, could you leave us, please?”

“Certainly,” Andre said with a curt nod. “Let me know if you need anything; I’ll be downstairs.” With those words, he left.

When the door clicked shut, Thea heard Andre’s footsteps, and saw Mary turning in the bed across the hall, but she didn’t wake up.

“Do her parents not know who you are?” Stan whispered, giving Thea a frustrated look.

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not your business to pry.”

He narrowed his gaze. “As your elder brother and the only one here, I’m responsible for you.”

“No, thank you. You delegated the task to the doctor even though I’m quite capable of being responsible for myself.”

“By working as a governess to a merchant’s family? A princess of your standing?”

“And what standing is that, hmm?”

Stan’s eyebrows rose high, but a flash of defiance sparkled in his eyes. Thea knew she almost had him. He was the only brother who could understand her predicament… if he listened.

“Soon, before the altar—”

“Not you, too!” Thea huffed and slipped out of her shoes. She’d sleep a little next door but she wouldn’t rest if Stan were going to lock her in an ivory tower again.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me!” Stan whispered in the most menacing tone he could muster without waking Mary across the hall. Terribly dangerous indeed, but not too loud to wake a sleeping child.

Thea shook her head. Why was it that men thought she’d submit to their expectations?

“The White family don’t know who you are, so they can’t tell anyone you stayed with them. As far as they are concerned, you’re just an incredibly well-trained governess. If we merely say that you missed me and came to visit before your nuptials, we may be able to save your reputation.”

“Stan, I either sleep in the room with Mary or in the one next to her. She’s six. Rest assured, my virtue is intact. And I’m not going to lie; there’s no shame in working as a governess teaching a wonderful little girl Latin, geography, and arithmetic.”

“It’s unexpected for a princess.”

“Well, it may be. Things happen that are unexpected. Look, I’m here. Surprise!” Thea said with a feigned smile and stretched her arms over her head as if she’d dramatically appeared on stage.

That gave Stan pause. “What has happened at home since I’ve been gone?”

“Nothing new.” She shrugged.

“And yet unexpected enough for you to flee?” Stan cocked his head.

“No, I’ve been there for the past two months, haven’t I? Clearly, I’m still there and trying on veils for the ceremony,” Thea retorted and brushed over an imaginary veil that didn’t hang behind her back. The idea of trying one on for the Habsburg prince was more akin to a noose than a veil. “I’m the runaway bride now,” she added. But then Thea saw Stan’s rather sad look, as if he pitied her for the trouble she’d gotten herself into. “Do you know you are the only one who ever understood me? And now you don’t!”

“That’s not true!” He laughed at that. Their connection was still there. He’d always been the one brother who listened to her before passing judgment on a mere girl.

“It is in matters of power.”

“I have no power; I’m the youngest of four brothers. I’m the runt of the litter.”

“You’re taller and kinder than all the others, so you’re not the runt of the litter.” She gave her chin a feminine tilt. “And women certainly don’t see you as one.”

“I don’t count.”

“Well, what about me if you think you don’t count? The only thing worse than being the fourth son is to have come after him and be a girl. I’m the only daughter, the last one.”

“Mother loves you more than any of us boys.”

“No, she relates to me more and feels my voiceless pain. For Father, I’m a mere bargaining chip.”

“You’re a princess.”

“A valuable bargaining chip, no more. You should have seen how he looked at me the night I—”

“Thea, please don’t tell me…”

“Oh, but I did! And I know what I’m doing.” Some of the time. But he needn’t know.

Stan deflated visibly and sighed deeply as if he’d witnessed the drama of that night himself. “You told Father that you don’t want to marry Prince Ralph?”

“Yes. And that was when I presented him with the charter.”

Stand grimaced as if he’d seen the disaster unfold. “What happened then?” He rubbed his brow.

She inhaled deeply, but the pain of the heartbreak that night hurt her so much that even the cool air couldn’t settle her nerves. “He wailed.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what else to call it. It’s a new sound he made, a cry combined with a deep sort of—”

“Grunt?”

“How do you know?”

“I thought this was his sensational cry of disappointment especially reserved for me,” Stan said.

“Well, his look truly broke my heart but solidified my resolve.”

“Oh, Thea.”

“It did! He looked at me as if I had died in his eyes and as if I had stooped so low that he was the victim of a daughter for whom he’d done everything right to ensure my success, and yet the disappointment of me as a failure was too much to bear.”

“Because you gave away the only chance to help our family.”

“By marrying Prince Ralph?”

“No. Yes. Well, that charter of yours, it’s not a new idea. I’ve been trying to align our allies and pressure our trading partners to agree to such a charter—well, a treaty actually.”

“Good! So you can use some of the text that I’ve drafted if you like.”

“Not if there is no reason to pressure our enemies into signing it. And if word gets out that you’ve lost your virtue, then only Alex’s alliance with the English tradesman Lyndon can help us.”

Thea stood and her arms grew cold as realization chilled her to the bone. Her mind raced, as Stan’s words crashed over her like a relentless tide. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms, grounding herself against the pain of her thoughts.

The dim room felt stifling, the air thick with the consequences of her rashness. Candlelight flickered, throwing her shadow against the wall—a stark silhouette of her turmoil. Each decision replayed in her mind—a cascade of missteps that now threatened the very fabric of her family’s alliances. Her brother Alex’s happiness hung in the balance, tangled in the web of her making.

“What happened?” Andre suddenly appeared with a flask in hand.

“Ask her,” Stan said grumpily.

But Thea didn’t want to admit to her selfishness and avoided the handsome doctor’s discerning gaze.

“Well, here’s something for the night in case the incision pains you.” Andre handed Stan the flask and then gave a curt bow. “Please let me know if you need anything tonight. I’ll be back to check on Stan.”

As Andre turned to leave, Thea retreated into her room without another word to Stan. She left the door ajar to keep an eye on Mary, who slept peacefully. Envy flickered in her heart at the sight of Mary’s innocent rest, yet Thea was relieved knowing they were secure at 87 Harley Street. Despite the chaos in her mind, Andre’s presence offered a deep, instinctual sense of safety that she couldn’t ignore. He was a miracle in a time of need—not only because he’d treated Stan’s shoulder, but also because there was something about him that anchored her, so she didn’t panic given her troubled situation.

The image of his steady hands and the warmth in his voice had woven themselves into her consciousness, offering a solace she hadn’t expected. And somehow, she thought that the handsome doctor could offer even more than that.