Deceit: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (11 page)

“He has learned a few tricks over the years
and may eventually prove not entirely useless,” she said. “Listen
closely. I’ve trained him. When I first cast him to his true form,
a beast, he would barge in here whenever his cock stood straight,
thinking he would finally be free of me. Now...” she trailed off
and glanced at the door with a small smile.

After a moment of silence, a fist banged on
the door hard enough to rattle the hinges. I glanced at Rose. Her
smile widened, and she winked at me.

“Enter.”

The door eased open when I would have
expected a crash.

“Rose,” the beast growled, ducking through
the door. “Why have you taken her?”

“I thought she and I should have a proper
chat,” she said, standing. “She had a few misconceptions of you,
and I wanted to set them straight. Have you checked on Egrit,
today? She can almost walk normally again.”

My eyes widened as I realized she spoke of
the wood nymph. Had he approached her again in my absence?

“Come,” he said, holding out a hand to
me.

My gaze lingered on his clawed paw then
drifted to his face. He wasn’t asking. He was commanding.

“Remember what I told you,” Rose said as I
touched my hand to his.

Chapter 6

The beast led me from the cottage, keeping a
firm hold on my hand until we reached the manor. My mind spun with
so many observations and questions that I didn’t notice the
distance or time that passed. I’d already guessed the beast was
once the Liege Lord, and the candle maker had told a brief bit of
his history. A history I hadn’t fully believed. Could I be certain
I knew it now? Stories often differed depending on the view of the
speaker. I wouldn’t call the beast kind, exactly, but I did think
he had the capacity for fair judgment. After all, he’d remained
consistent with his punishment for trespassing...until me. He never
truly harmed children. A bruise on the butt, at most, when they
landed after being tossed. I’d witnessed worse in parental
discipline. And as for women, I wanted to say he was kind to them
too, but the wood nymph hadn’t received kind treatment.

Rose’s statement about the beast forcing his
attention twisted my stomach, though; and I tried to distance
myself from the problem so I could see it clearly. Facts.
Observations. I needed to focus on those.

The beast had been a poor, perhaps horrible,
liege lord. Therefore, the enchantress had improved the lives of
the villagers dependent on the estate by casting her spell upon
him. The candle maker confirmed both points, though he hadn’t
mentioned Rose.

I frowned, having noticed we walked the
hallway to the library. Inside, the beast had another game ready
for us.

“I need to think,” I said, too confused to
sit with him. Then I fled.

In my room, I paced. Rose’s chief complaint
had been his rule, but too much of our discussion had been on his
lust. She claimed to be here to protect the people, but what of the
baker and his manipulations? What of Tennen and Splane’s unfair
treatment of me?

If I’d been an enchantress angry at a liege
lord for the poor care of his people, I would have made him suffer
the same fates they’d been forced to endure. Fear of violence,
rape, hunger...I imagined that over fifty years ago the villagers
had experienced all of that with thieves populating these woods.
Yet, she had put the beast in the estate, had given him power to
protect and heal himself, an endless supply of food, and a tempting
wood nymph upon which he could force himself. The only actual
punishments, from my viewpoint, were the change in his form and
having to fornicate with Rose.

None of it made sense, and it seemed to me
that Rose played her own game. She not only punished him with a
change in form but many others along with him. I felt certain the
crow, wood nymphs, tree, and Swiftly had all been humans. What were
their crimes?

I stopped my pacing and stared vacantly out
the window.

The tree had asked me to teach the beast.
When I’d reflected on what the beast might need to learn, I’d
thought kindness, patience, and civility. Perhaps there was more. I
cringed at that, though. Three virtues were hard enough to teach.
Yet, in one thing, Rose was right: the man who had come before the
beast could return to Liege Lord.

Perhaps the tree wanted me to teach him to
be a better person. I sighed, unsure how I could help with that
when Rose still promoted all of the qualities that made him a poor
lord. She complained that he had assumed entitlements. How did
giving him such vast magical control over the estate teach him
humility?

Frustrated with the beast, Rose, and the
tree, I wanted to reach up and yank at my own hair. Why couldn’t
people just say what they meant? The whole thing felt like a
deception.

Aryana’s words sprang to mind. Deception is
sometimes needed when truth fails. What truth failed fifty years
ago?

“Benella?” the beast spoke quietly from
behind me, bringing me back to the present. Light no longer shone
through the window. The night sky sparkled with stars.

“I know exactly where I am, but have never
felt so lost,” I said, turning to look at him.

“What did she tell you?” he asked.

He stood just within my door, still dressed
in trousers and standing on two legs. The mist pooled around his
feet, ready to cover him if he needed it, but I saw his worried
expression clearly.

How could a beast, a true beast, show such
concern? Such uncertainty? It settled my mind. I would play a game
of my own, a dangerous one that might earn the retribution of an
angry enchantress, the wrath of a volatile beast, and the scorn of
my family. No matter the ending, I would be the one to suffer. But
my suffering could free a beast, who might not deserve it, and his
servants, who most likely did deserve it.

“She told me what she thought would stop me
from helping you,” I said honestly. “But it doesn’t matter. I will
still try to help you.”

He exhaled slowly, showing his relief. His
reaction helped reassure me that I was making the right choice.

“We will keep going as we have, and
eventually, if you hold to your word not to expend your energies on
anyone other than Rose, you will be able to do what you must.”

Now, I just needed to keep his hope of
freedom alive while preventing him from breaking the curse until he
learned how to be a better person in order to rule properly. The
impossibility of the task was not lost on me.

* * * *

The beast waited outside my door the next
morning.

“Let’s work in the kitchen again today,” I
said and led the way without waiting for his answer.

He followed me quietly while I considered my
plan.

I’d already shown him the pride that came
from working with one’s own hands, thanks to the bet about making
breakfast. I planned to continue on that theme. Yet, I knew he
would tire of cooking unless there was some type of reward to
inspire him. Rewards always seemed to help promote the desired
behavior. After all, Father kept his class quiet with the promise
of earlier dismissal, and Bryn had taught the goat to hold still
for milking by giving her carrots. I felt certain I could do
something similar with the beast. Yet, I needed to have care about
what I offered as a reward. I considered my options carefully and
decided, sometimes, praise was enough of a reward. I would start
with that.

In the kitchen, we used the chef’s books to
make an elaborate breakfast, which we didn’t eat until closer to
lunch. Covered in flour, a splattering of eggs, and some other
unknown smears, I sat at the table with a sigh. The beast had
willingly assisted the entire time and didn’t look any cleaner.

“I will never again take for granted Bryn’s
skill in the kitchen,” I said, eyeing the table.

The food before us looked questionable. The
book had listed several different versions of an egg tartlet.
According to the chef’s writing, the egg would cause the mixture to
raise high above the crust. Ours clung to the bottom of a very
dark, stiff crust.

“I thought all women learned to cook,” he
said, poking at the egg.

“Perhaps most do. I wanted to learn my
letters and numbers instead,” I said. “I found there were many more
interesting puzzles I could solve that way. Finding solutions is
like winning a game, and it gives me an immense satisfaction. If I
can’t read, then I’d rather be outside, not in the kitchen, or
worse, sewing.”

Bravely, I tried to cut into the tartlet. I
sawed back and forth to force the blade through the egg. Having won
a slice free, I offered it politely to the beast.

“What were your favorite pastimes?” I asked,
keeping the question to the past so I could watch his eyes as he
thought about his past self. Did he like that man? Could he see any
of his own faults?

“It’s been so long, I don’t recall,” he
replied just before he tried a bite. He grimaced as he chewed, but
I didn’t pay much attention to that.

I had noted the lie in his eyes. He did
recall his pastimes but did not want to admit them to me. Did he
find shame in them? I hoped so.

“Then you should try to discover them. Or
find new ones. How is it?” I asked after he chewed for several
moments.

“Horrible,” he said bluntly, setting down
the slice.

I laughed, stole his slice so I wouldn’t
need to saw through the tartlet again, and took a small bite. It
tasted fine, but the texture ruined it.

“This isn’t bad for a first try. I think we
overbaked it or had the flame too high. Let’s try again.”

We made three more tartlets as the day
progressed. The final one passed with both our approvals, though it
was far from the fine dishes the beast could magic.

After finishing the last bite, I stood with
a sigh. “We better start washing if we want to see our beds yet
tonight.”

“Wash?” he asked, staring at me in partial
dread.

“The pots, pans, spoons, and every surface
in here. I think we spattered eggs on the ceiling.” I pointed up at
a spatter I’d watch fly from the beast’s mixing bowl during our
first attempt.

“No,” he said firmly.

“I understand.”

While cooking, his cooperation had been
easily gained by asking for his help and praising his efforts.
Earning his cooperation for cleaning would require more than a
request for assistance and a word of thanks.

I bent and started unlacing my boots. My
feet hurt from standing stationary for most of the day, and I
wanted to walk barefoot on the cool stone floor. But mostly, I knew
how it would look to the beast.

“If you don’t want to help, you won’t upset
me; but I do ask that you leave so you’re not in my way.” I pulled
off one boot then the other. “If you stay, I’ll put you to
work.”

I stood with a stretch and felt his eyes on
me as I went to fetch some water. He watched me put it on the fire
to warm. Knowing I had his attention, I stood before the flames for
a moment and lifted my underskirt to wipe my face, exposing a leg
all the way to mid-thigh.

Behind me, the beast’s chair scraped against
stone as he pushed away from the table. I dropped my skirt back
into place. He hadn’t moved fast enough to see anything; but
without a doubt, he knew he’d missed some sort of view.

“Are you helping?” I asked, turning to arch
a brow at him innocently. “If not, you’re in my way.”

“I will help for a while,” he said
reluctantly, glancing at my skirts.

I suppressed my triumphant grin.

We cleaned for a long while. When he did
something especially helpful, I thanked him and did something
innocently to reveal a bit of skin. In my mind, it was nothing he
hadn’t already viewed when I’d spent the day naked in his presence.
But the glimpses seemed to have an even greater effect.

A glimpse of my bare calf when I stood on a
chair while trying to wipe the ceiling had him watching me
inconspicuously afterward. He always watched me, but his attempt to
watch me without being obvious called his regard to even more
attention.

When I moved the hot water from the fire, I
used my outer skirt to protect my hand and left only my underskirt
to cover me. He stood washing the butcher block, and I knew the
fire glowed through my skirts and outlined my legs.

“We never addressed the issue of my
underclothes,” I said, turning toward him innocently. “Do I get
them back?” I walked the water to the washtub and waited for his
answer.

“They will be there when you need them,” he
answered hoarsely.

I thanked him and kept working.

For the remainder of the night, I focused on
not displaying anything else.

* * * *

The underclothes did not reappear the next
morning, and I smiled as I picked out a dress to wear. Another
plain one, though the wardrobe kept its usual variety.

Not wanting him to grow bored with any one
task, I decreed we would try to discover some of his old pastimes.
I knew what a few of those were and honestly did not want him to
think about them once again, so I took him to the last place we
would find them.

Connected to the library, a door led to the
Lord’s study. We breached the dusty room on the pretext of looking
for clues.

On the desk sat an open ledger. I glanced at
it casually when I walked a circle around the small room. Many of
the books that lined the shelves were past ledgers or family
accounts of daily life. A feminine swirl covered the open pages of
the most current ledger. The last number noted had been underscored
with force. Thirty-seven gold. An astounding amount to me, but for
a vast estate it seemed a bit sparse.

“How many servants used to live here?” I
asked, coming back to the study door, leaving the room
undisturbed.

“Twenty, at any given time,” he said, his
eyes following me.