Devastation: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (13 page)

“Thank you.”

Once we had the wagon loaded—thankfully
without Mrs. Wimbly returning—Swiftly helped me into my seat and
clucked the horses to start our journey. While we navigated the
drive, I kept a close watch on the barrels tied in the back to
ensure they didn’t jostle overly much. After we reached the main
road, I turned toward Swiftly.

“What business would Lord Ruhall have at the
Water?”

“We are buying a dress,” he said with a
slight smile.

“A dress? Why would Lord Ruhall need a
dress?”

“He doesn’t. You do.”

“I have no coin. And if I did, I wouldn’t
use it for a dress. I have two, which is twice as many as I’d
like.”

Swiftly laughed.

“No need to worry about the coin,” he said,
reaching up and tapping his chest. Metal jingled.

“Whose coin?”

“Lord Ruhall. He asked that I remind you the
purpose behind the feast is to help support the community by paying
for local goods.”

A concept I understood. However, supporting
the community by impoverishing the estate would benefit no one.
Rather than pointing that out, I decided to wait and see how much a
new dress would cost. Since Blye had always made mine for me, I had
no idea.

When we reached the trade street, the homes
with children eagerly accepted the milk we offered. Barrels empty,
we climbed aboard once more and rattled our way to the market
district.

“Lord Ruhall thought you might want to try
the seamstress at the end of the street,” Swiftly said as we
approached my sister’s shop.

“No. I’d like to speak with Blye about the
dress.”

Swiftly made an odd face but slowed the
wagon before her shop. He helped me down and followed me to the
door.

“I’ll wait here,” he said, opening it for
me.

I nodded and stepped in. Blye stood folding
handkerchiefs on a small table. She looked up at the sound of the
door, and the welcoming smile on her face faded when she saw me.
She was probably hoping for a paying customer. Which I was. I
smiled at her.

“Hello, Blye. I’ve come to see if you have
time to sew a dress for me.”

“Benella, I thought I said—” She glanced at
the curtained door that no doubt led to the sewing room and started
again. “No, I don’t have time.”

She’d been folding handkerchiefs. I doubted
lack of time the reason. I studied her hard expression.

“Why?” I asked, unwilling to leave without
hearing a reason for her attitude.

She released a slow breath with a shake of
her head.

“Because I won’t associate with loose
women.”

A small choking noise escaped me.

“And you consider me loose because a pig of
a man almost raped me?”

“Benella, please. Just leave,” she said with
another nervous glance at the back room. She lowered her voice.
“And it would be better if you never came back.”

Her complete abandonment pierced me. I’d
thought Bryn cruel; Blye was more so because she had no cause. Hers
wasn’t misguided self-recrimination but rather the shallow concern
of what her peers might think of her.

Without another word, I turned and left.

Outside, Swiftly spoke to a beautiful woman
with long blonde hair. His scarlet face and averted eyes distracted
me from my anger.

“Swiftly?”

“Benella,” the woman said with a small
smile. Her voice sounded raspy and familiar. I studied her mouth
and recognized Ila dressed in a simple, normal gown.

“I saw you and hoped we might talk.”

“I’d rather not,” I said with a glance at
the Whispering Sisters’ house. The place I had once thought filled
with friends now seemed a house of lies. And it made me wonder why
Ila sought me out.

“Not there,” she said, following my gaze.
“Just a walk if you think it suitable.”

“I’m not concerned with suitability as much
as I am preservation. Aryana has done enough—”

“I’m not here for her. I’m here for
you.”

Swiftly had watched our exchange; and when I
looked at him in question, he shrugged.

“I will follow wherever you lead, Miss
Hovtel.”

“Well, then. Come, Ila. Let’s walk.”

Side by side, we slowly paced north along
the street.

“Are you well?” she asked softly.

“Well enough, I suppose. How are you? I’m
surprised to see you about at this time.” It was nearing the hour
when their clients would arrive.

“When news spread that Aryana was
responsible for Lord Ruhall’s curse, many of our customers did not
return.”

“I can hardly fault them.”

“Nor do I. But now, many of us find
ourselves idle. Without Aryana there to ensure our future, some
have left for other occupations, thanks to their education. Two had
offers of marriage.”

“What do you mean? She’s not there?”

“She gave us all a small fortune and
disappeared not long after...” Conversation halted for several
moments. “I heard some of what your sister said to you and am
afraid you will find the same welcome at many of the seamstresses
here.”

“They condemn the wrong party,” I said with
a frustrated exhale.

“They do.”

“It’s just as well. I wasn’t looking forward
to another dress. I long for the days when I walked the woods in my
sturdy shirt and trousers.”

Ila chuckled.

“If you’re willing, I would be glad to make
your dress. We’ve grown adept at creating our own dresses because
we’ve found the same welcome at most shops here.”

I stopped walking and turned to Ila. The
sincerity in her gaze and her words filled me with enough
compassion that I answered more kindly than I would have
previously.

“I would be honored and will wear it
proudly.”

She seemed relieved, and I wondered if
boredom hadn’t prompted the offer.

“What does the future hold for you,
Ila?”

She shrugged and looked around. “I wouldn’t
mind finding a man willing to take me as I am.”

“I wouldn’t think that would be an issue.
How old are you?”

She gave a small smile. “Almost twenty.”

“Plenty of time to meet a decent man.”

“Not here.”

I looked around and caught the long glances
aimed our way.

“No, not here,” I said in agreement. “Come
to Lord Ruhall’s feast and be my special guest. There will be many
faces there that I think you might not yet have seen.”

Her smile widened. “I would be honored.”

“Now, do you need my measurements?”

She laughed. “No need. I know them
well.”

“Payment?” I glanced at Swiftly.

He handed her the gold.

“I hope that’s enough,” I said with a
question in my voice.

“It is. Your gown will be lovely.”

With nothing more to say, I nodded farewell
and followed Swiftly back to the wagon.

He and I rode back in silence. My thoughts
were heavy and unsuitable for company. My sisters shunned me; and
though Ila sought me out, I wasn’t ready to trust her or count her
among my friends. I could count Egrit as a friend to an extent;
however, she didn’t treat me as a peer. Her affection for me ran
closer to savior and part errant ward. I realized I was quite
friendless. Now, more than ever, I wished I could leave the
North.

Swiftly dropped me off at the front door and
clucked the horse to bring the wagon to the barn. I let myself in
and closed the door behind me. Though I wanted nothing more than to
escape to my room, I turned toward the laundry to help press the
table linens. Neither Egrit nor Mrs. Palant commented on my subdued
responses to their active conversation.

Lord Ruhall had Father fetch me for a
stilted dinner where Father glanced at me often, a knowing sadness
in his gaze. I wondered what Blye might have said to him when he
had gone to the Water. No doubt she’d accepted the invitation well
enough, just not Father’s presence. My heart was heavy for him as
well.

Alec remained quiet throughout the meal, the
set of his jaw becoming more tense with each moment until I finally
excused myself.

With relief, I sought my bed.

* * * *

The sound of steps roused me. Someone moved
about in my room. Before I could panic, Alec spoke softly.

“Why do you refuse to see I’m here?”
Frustration laced his low words.

I knew he was speaking to himself. He didn’t
understand. I did see him. I knew he was there. And my longing for
who he used to be was destroying me.

The pacing stopped and the bed dipped. He
wrapped me in his arms, and I stayed awake long after his breathing
lulled.

* * * *

I lay in bed after waking. My heavy heart
wouldn’t let me stand. I hated the need for the feast and my
commitment to stay to see it through. I wanted to speak to my
father and flee.

Pushing aside my despondency, I slid from
bed. It was only when I stood and felt the air on my bare legs that
I recalled I still slept in his shirt. Wrinkling my nose, I pulled
it off over my head. It needed a washing. Though Egrit hadn’t
commented on it during the many times she’d come to wake me, I
thought it better to return it to Alec’s dirty laundry than to wash
it myself.

After I washed and dressed, I strode across
the room with the shirt. Perhaps it was time to put aside my
memories of the beast. His return was unlikely, and my continued
hope for it, unfair. Twisting the handle, I pulled the door wide
and froze.

Lord Ruhall reclined in a bathing tub on a
rug at the foot of his bed. The wide expanse of his bare shoulders
had me staring stupidly. I’d never before seen a man without his
shirt. Not true. I’d seen all of Gen at the Whisperings Sisters. My
stomach dipped and heat flooded my face as I recalled every detail
of that particular lesson.

At the sound of the door, Alec turned his
head and caught my gaze. The move brought more of his back out of
the water. I swallowed and averted my gaze slightly to his shoulder
and the tiny red marks there. Deeply puckered scars. As I stared,
the small crescent shapes took on meaning, and my world
pitched.

“Benella? Are you all right?” His words
broke through my revelation, and I struggled to recall my
purpose.

“Yes. Quite. I wanted to return your shirt.
It needs a wash.”

“Take a new one,” he said, leaning back in
the water once more.

The wardrobe stood just a few feet from the
tub. My mind in a jumble, I absently dropped the old shirt to the
floor and went to the wardrobe to select a clean one from the
several waiting within. As I closed the doors, something tugged on
my skirt. I turned. Alec had an arm extended from the tub and held
the material in his hand. He looked up at me, his expression
masked.

“Could you bring the soap for me?” He
pointed to his dressing table near the wardrobe.

I absently nodded, and he let go of my
skirt.

What did the scars mean? Could I have been
wrong?

The well-used cake of soap was small and
made me feel so guilty that I couldn’t find a way around using
estate gold for the feast. Soap in hand, I turned and brought it to
Alec. The water did little to hide the strong length of his legs or
the hard planes of his chest and stomach. He was so much bigger
than Gen’s lean frame. So much more interesting to study.

“The soap?” Humor laced his words.

I shook myself and handed over the soap
before rushing from the room. In my own chamber, I went to the
window and stared out.

The marks were unmistakably fingernails.
Only one person had set her hand on Alec’s shoulder. Rose. The
morning the baker had almost raped me. Had Alec truly wanted to
come to my aid? Though Rose posed no threat physically, her nails
would have served as a reminder of what she could do with her
magic. Why stop him, though?

The sun traveled the sky as I debated the
possibilities. I needed to talk to someone. The only person left to
me was Father. I knew he would listen, yet the reason behind the
lackluster rescue of my near rape would be a potentially
disquieting topic for him.

Sighing, I left my room and felt a small
measure of guilt that I’d done nothing to help that day. Many of
the rooms I passed had open doors and windows. Fresh air swept
through the first and second floors.

I met Otta at the bottom of the steps.

“Otta, what are you doing out of the
schoolroom?”

She looked nervous. I reached out, smoothed
back the hair on her head, and gave her an encouraging smile.

“We stopped for the midday meal. Mrs. Wimbly
had me deliver a tray to your father. I’m to return straight to Mr.
Roost.”

“I’ll speak with Mr. Roost and Mrs. Wimbly.
You should have no tasks during the day.”

“Thank you, Miss Hovtel,” she said before
she scampered away.

As I continued toward the library, I heard
what sounded like someone stomping on the floor. The sound came
again. Not stomping. Something hitting the floor.

Lengthening my stride, I rounded the corner
of the library door just in time to see a book sail from the study.
It landed not far from the door with a loud bang. Cursing followed,
punctuated by something hitting wood.

Father half-stood behind his desk, his shock
clear. We looked at each other before I hurried to the study.

I ducked to dodge another book that Alec
threw without seeing me. He was in a rage, his face red and his jaw
clenched. He grabbed his chair and began to lift it high over his
head.

“Alec,” I said. Shock robbed my voice of
volume, yet he heard.

He froze at the sound of his given name and
turned his angry gaze on me. His chest heaved, and his eyes were
dark. My pulse leapt at the sight. How many times had I faced him
like this?

Cautiously, I walked into the room.

“Set it down,” I said softly.

He yelled loudly and half-slammed the chair
to the floor. I stepped further into the room and carefully
approached him. I almost smiled. His mood reminded me so much of
how he’d acted the time I’d locked myself in his room.