Page 49 of The Sound of Seduction (Miracles on Harley Street #4)

T he tension in Wendy’s old chamber was suffocating, a thick, invisible fog that clung to every surface and every silence.

Wendy stood near Stan, her arms crossed tightly as though holding herself together was the only thing grounding her in that moment.

Nick’s glare burned a hole in Stan, and Alfie’s disapproving frown seemed cut from the same cloth.

Andre and Felix weren’t much better, their expressions mirroring frustration, disappointment, and fear.

And yet, even with the heavy weight of her brothers’ judgments, it was Stan’s stillness that unsettled her most. His face was set, his features schooled into calm, but his knuckles on the back of the armchair betrayed him, white and tight.

If Nick didn’t give his permission, would Stan still marry her?

Would he leave London with or without her?

And would she truly leave the practice and her brother in England to follow Stan to Transylvania?

“Wendy,” a cheerful voice interrupted, startling her from her thoughts.

She turned toward the door where Pippa and Bea entered, wide smiles lighting their faces like the promise of a summer stroll.

They looked so out of place in the oppressive gloom of the room, their bright gowns and laughing eyes unaware of the quiet storm brewing within its walls. The contrast was almost startling.

“Splendid, you’re all here!” Bea chirped, gliding forward with the easy confidence of a newlywed, the glow of happiness still clinging to her.

She tucked a loose curl back into place and grinned in Alfie’s direction, whose mien instantly softened as he made his way to her and kissed her check with reverence.

“Come, Wendy. We’ve come to whisk you away.

We’ve much to plan, and Violet is expecting us. ”

But Pippa halted mid-step, her smile faltering for only a moment as her keen eyes darted between the figures in the room, each one radiating a tension she couldn’t ignore.

Only Stan was not glaring in her direction, though his lofty calm was arguably worse.

She bowed her head, her brows raising in silent contemplation.

Wendy didn’t miss the fleeting glance Pippa exchanged with Bea.

“Whatever’s amiss won’t improve by standing about,” Pippa declared, her voice a balm to the awkward silence yet commanding enough to head off any interference.

Then she flicked her fan open and waved it dramatically.

“Come along, Wendy. I didn’t make the trek all the way to Harley Street just for you to say no . ”

Wendy swallowed hard, her gaze shifting from Pippa to Stan, whose brown eyes finally met hers. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but firm.

“Go with them,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll speak to Nick.” His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and while his words were steady, faint cracks lay beneath them—cracks only Wendy would notice. “It’s better this way.”

Better this way. Their fraught gazes lingered for a moment before Pippa seized Wendy’s arm, too eager to pry her from the room where emotions simmered precariously. She tugged her toward the door, with Bea flitting along behind them, entirely unaware of Wendy’s reluctance to leave.

Moments later, Wendy found herself in the carriage, bumping along London’s cobbled streets.

The warmth of sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, spilling onto Bea’s rosy cheeks and Pippa’s bubbly perfection.

The air in the carriage should have been lighter, filled with Pippa’s chatter and Bea’s occasional exclamation, but Wendy felt weighted and disconnected, like an unwanted guest in her own life.

“You only just returned from your wedding and now there’s the next ball?” Wendy’s voice rasped out, her attempt at normalcy weak at best.

Bea nodded eagerly, her hands smoothing her skirts.

“Violet is helping us prepare. It’s to be held at Lady Anna Ashford’s house.

” She clasped her hands together and sighed with drama only Bea could deliver.

“The Ashfords, Wendy—can you imagine? This ball will be quite the spectacle. It’s in honor of Princess Thea, so naturally, her brothers will both be in attendance. ”

Pippa, however, wasn’t so easily distracted. Her sharp eyes softened as her gaze lingered on Wendy’s face. “Did you cry?” The question was simple, direct, and impossibly keen.

Wendy nodded before she could stop herself, her throat growing tight as an unbidden tear escaped down her cheek. She turned away quickly, but the damage was done.

“What happened?” Bea asked, alarm replacing her cheerful tone. “What did I miss?”

For the first time since stepping into the carriage, Wendy conceded.

Her lips quivered as she began to explain, her voice trembling under the weight of everything she had been struggling to understand herself.

She recounted—not every detail but enough.

Enough for her sisters-in-law to piece together the scandal, her heartbreak, her humiliation.

The emotions spilled out like a dam finally bursting, leaving her raw and exposed under their watchful gazes.

“So, you saved his life?” Bea asked quietly when Wendy fell into silence.

Wendy shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with a trembling hand. “He got through the fever himself,” she admitted, though her voice hinted at the bond that suffering together had forged. “It wasn’t me.”

“It was you,” Bea said in awe.

“That’s how you grew closer?” Pippa pressed gently.

Wendy nodded again, her fists curling against her lap. “And then they caught him climbing out of my room,” she whispered, the shame of it rushing through her anew. A fresh tear rolled down her cheek, and she buried her face in her hands. “They think I’m compromised.”

A beat of silence passed before Pippa spoke with a clarity that left no room for argument. “Well, nurses are always compromised, aren’t they? It’s expected because they see patients naked.”

“Pippa!” Bea spat.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Pippa said.

“No, not like—” Wendy’s breath shuddered as her composure cracked further. “I’m not like either of you. I’m not in society properly. I can disappear into the periphery, but you two belong there. For you, this matters.”

“It matters for you just as much,” Bea said.

“I’m not a lady who’s respected in society,” Wendy said, accepting a handkerchief from Pippa. “How odd,” she thought, “I’m usually the one carrying fresh towels. And now I need one.”

“You’re wrong,” Pippa said, directing her words more at Bea than at Wendy.

Pippa and Bea exchanged a deliberate nod, one that spoke volumes in a single glance. Bea leaned forward, a smile tugging her lips. “But you will be.”

“What do you mean?” Wendy asked wearily, unable to hide her confusion.

“Because tomorrow is the ball,” Pippa replied in a conspiratorial tone. “Princess Thea will be introduced… and you could be, too.”

“For what possible purpose?” Wendy’s voice broke, and she shook her head fervently. “I can’t be with Stan. You both know how dangerous everything is. If I am with him, it’s…?”

“And things change, Wendy. You’ve outgrown being a nurse to the Ton. They may not see it yet, but we will show them—Nick, Alfie, Andre, and Felix. You’re elevating your status at the ball; trust us.” Pippa received a nod of approval from Bea.

“There are two ways to rise in status: through marriage or respect,” Bea held her hands out as if offering Wendy two imaginary platters. “If you try to do it through marriage, you could become Stan’s princess.”

“But that would be all,” Pippa added.

Wendy furrowed her brows, momentarily forgetting to cry.

“So, there’s the other way: respect. Which few people can earn.” Bea glanced at her other palm as if the second imaginary platter contained all the answers.

“This is what you have already achieved, and it’s why you’ve outgrown your role.

” Pippa placed a hand on her chest. “And oh, am I relieved. I should have seen it all along, and I’m so sorry I didn’t.

You’re perfect for the position!” As the tears streamed silently, her lips couldn’t form what came next, the impossible weight of it pressing the air from her chest.