Page 19 of The Sound of Seduction (Miracles on Harley Street #4)

I t was time to return to London and Wendy couldn’t wait to see Prince Stan again.

The carriages lined the drive at Silvercrest Manor, their polished finishes glinting in the soft, wintry sunlight.

Footmen bustled, lifting trunks and hatboxes with swift efficiency, while the distant nicker of horses punctuated the crisp morning air.

Wendy stood near the edge of the gravel path, her shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders to guard against the chill.

Her traveling bag rested at her feet, but her eyes were drawn to the manor house.

The magnificent estate loomed against the pale sky with its ivy-laden towers and soaring windows.

It seemed absurd that only one day ago, its halls had been filled with music and laughter, the revelry of the ball now faded like a distant dream.

Wendy’s gaze lingered on the stately facade, an ache tightening in her chest that she didn’t quite understand.

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” Pippa’s voice broke through the din, soft and warm.

Wendy startled slightly and turned to find her sister-in-law standing beside her, elegantly wrapped in a velvet cape trimmed with brocade.

There was something maternal in Pippa’s smile, as if she could sense the turmoil Wendy wasn’t ready to voice.

“Silvercrest is your home now, too, Wendy. You’re part of the family. ”

The words struck her harder than she expected.

“Thank you,” Wendy managed quietly, though her voice trembled.

Family. Pippa’s tone should have comforted her.

Instead, doubt coiled tight. She glanced away, back toward the manor, where the gilded edges of the windows caught the weak glitter of sunlight.

“Oh yes,” Pippa added, more brightly now. “Perhaps you’ll even have your wedding here someday!” She teased as she adjusted the clasp of her cloak. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

Before Wendy could respond, a soft laugh echoed behind them. Bea stepped forward, her bonnet tilted slightly as the breeze toyed with her loose curls.

“It suits you,” Bea said, smiling kindly, her gloved hands clasped neatly in front of her. “Silvercrest has a way of beckoning like home.”

For a moment, Wendy could only manage a nod.

Bea’s words were sincere, her smile unguarded, but guilt gnawed at Wendy just the same.

She should have felt welcome among these women who spoke to her with such ease, such affection.

But it only made her more acutely aware of how misplaced she felt, stranded somewhere between two worlds.

The others bustled around them, Nick overseeing the loading of the carriages while Alfie spoke quietly with Felix just ahead.

They were all kind to her, truly, but Wendy couldn’t shake the impression of being a permanent bystander.

She wasn’t a doctor like Nick, whose hands helped build their practice from the ground up.

And unlike Bea or Pippa, she wasn’t born into this gilded world of titles and ballrooms. She was simply…

Wendy. A nurse. An observer. She knew how to bind wounds and comfort patients, not how to weave effortlessly through this glittering tapestry.

“I mean it, Wendy,” Pippa said gently, drawing her from her thoughts. “You’re always welcome here. Don’t forget that.”

The sincerity in her voice caught Wendy off guard, and for a moment, she could only stare at Pippa.

She opened her mouth to respond, but instead of words, her mind reeled with memories of the past night.

Prince Stan’s hand guiding her through the waltz.

His steady voice murmuring the steps. The way he’d looked at her afterward, his expression unreadable but piercing and lingering long after the music ended.

“Thank you,” she murmured finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Pippa reached out, brushing a strand of hair off Wendy’s shoulder in a gesture so familiar it made the ache in her chest deepen.

“Now, let’s return to London. We have work to do.

” She turned gracefully, heading toward the carriage, leaving Wendy standing just beyond the gravel path with Bea still lingering close by.

“Wendy.” Bea’s quiet voice pulled her attention, her gaze warm, but searching. “You do belong, you know.”

The kindness in Bea’s words tightened Wendy’s throat.

She forced a small smile and nodded, though she couldn’t bring herself to answer.

How could she explain the storm that churned within her?

The noise of the Ton, the judging gazes at the ball, and even worse, the voice in her own head whispering that she’d never truly fit in the prince’s world.

Wendy turned back once more as the first carriage creaked forward. The estate seemed impossibly large now, as though it were swallowing her in its shadow. She tried to shake the thoughts that pressed at the corners of her mind, but they always returned to one thing. Or rather, one person.

Stan. What could she offer him, truly? She had to stop pining after him, no matter how fiercely her heart protested otherwise.