Devastation: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (7 page)

The mattress dipped as he sat next to me.
His hands found my hair, undoing my braid, and the wood creaked as
he leaned back against the headboard. His fingers combed through my
long tresses and helped me forget the day’s chase, the dream, and
my troubles.

At some point, he stopped sitting beside me
and slipped under the covers. I woke with his arm draped over my
side and his hand splayed over the skin of my stomach under my
shirt. His deep breathing told me he slept. Yet, I frowned. His
smooth skin wasn’t right. It made my skin crawl and my breathing
shorten with dread.

I rolled to my stomach, seeking a more
comfortable position while remembering the pleasant touch of the
beast’s fur on my skin and fell back to sleep.

* * * *

Egrit woke me with a chipper good morning. I
burrowed deeper and refused to open my eyes. She went on,
undeterred.

“You’ve slept long enough according to Lord
Ruhall,” she said with a laugh in her voice. “He’s waiting for you
in the study.”

I groaned. Despite his warm presence, I
hadn’t slept well. My dreams had returned to Tennen chasing me and
the beast rescuing me.

“Please extend my regrets,” I said, pulling
the covers higher. “I’m ill disposed.” To sunlight and men, I
thought.

There was a moment of silence.

“I’ll leave the tray. If you feel better,
you’ll want to eat.”

She left the room, and I remained in bed. My
problem was two-fold. I missed the beast, and I missed the
direction my life had while I was helping him. My father’s
employment by Lord Ruhall was perfect. For him. Not for me. Seeing
Lord Ruhall just made me miss the beast more.

Perhaps it was time I ventured into the
world on my own. The thought terrified me as much as it did excite
me. Yet, I wanted to feel useful again.

With a sigh, I rolled toward the window and
opened my eyes. Lying in bed wouldn’t change my future.

I washed with the cool water in the basin
then removed a plain gown from the wardrobe. I dressed slowly,
thinking of the possibilities. They were too far and too uncertain.
I needed to speak with my father. While I refused to burden him
with my troubles in Konrall, I saw no reason not to seek his
guidance regarding options for my future. In the past, his counsel
always proved helpful.

I left my room and sought him out in the
library. He had a small desk set near the fire where he liked to
work. If he wasn’t there, he tended to hunt the kitchen for food or
monitor the progress on the barn.

When I stepped through the library doors, he
looked up from his ledger and smiled at the sight of me. He stood
as I approached and leaned in to kiss my cheek.

“We missed you at breakfast. Are you feeling
better?”

“I feel fine, Father. It’s my thoughts that
plague me.”

He motioned for me to take a seat then sat
beside me.

“Tell me,” he said.

I clasped my hands and thought for a
moment.

“I’ve lost my purpose and am struggling to
think of a new one. Bryn and Blye have both found their way. I’m
old enough to find my own.” I hesitated for a moment. “I’m thinking
of leaving.” I watched his expression, afraid what I said might
have hurt him.

“Leaving?” He looked troubled and glanced at
the study door, which stood open, then back at me. “Do you seek my
blessing or my advice?”

“Advice.”

He sat back and stared at the flames for a
while. I waited patiently.

“I believe the suggestion I would offer you
now, might be selfish. I don’t want to lose you. May I have some
time to think on this?”

“Of course.” I kissed his cheek. “That’s why
I came to you. As much as I want to leave, I want to stay,” I said,
standing.

My father remained there watching the flames
as I walked away. I wandered the halls for a while, letting my feet
choose their own path. Eventually, I found myself back in my room.
I opened the window to let in the fresh air and leaned against the
sill.

A crash followed by a string of cursing came
from the adjoining room. I recognized Lord Ruhall’s voice and
walked to the door. Something hit it with a thud and fell to the
floor on the other side. I laid my hand on the door and smiled. It
reminded me of the time I’d locked myself in his room. But the
beast was gone, leaving behind a man I didn’t understand or very
much like. Straightening my shoulders, I knocked.

The room on the other side silenced then the
door swung open. Lord Ruhall’s disheveled appearance shocked me.
He’d ripped the seam on the right shoulder of his jacket, his
neckcloth hung askew, and his hair stood on end. His chest rose and
fell with his rapid breathing.

“You wear my shirt to bed then tell your
father you want to leave. Why?”

I blinked at him. I’d forgotten about the
shirt when he’d entered the room last night.

“I wore the shirt because I miss him,” I
admitted, tearing my gaze from his.

“Him?” he said with a confused frown.

A brief small smile lifted my lips, a sad
offering of amusement.

“The beast. The very creature chosen to be
your punishment, the one you loathed...the one I want back.” I kept
my eyes on the ground, unable to look at him to see what he thought
of me.

“Why?” He didn’t sound angry or upset
anymore.

“He growled, threw fits, chased me about the
estate, made all manner of inappropriate demands of me, but he also
did something else.”

“What?”

My chest ached with the truth.

“He made me love him,” I said, finally
meeting his eyes.

Joy lit his face, then after meeting my sad
gaze, a somber frustration crept in.

“You stubborn girl,” he growled. “I am still
that beast!”

“No, you are not.” It hurt speaking the
words aloud. My heart ached with what I’d lost. The man before me
was but a poor replacement for the beast who’d stolen my heart.

“You growl and yell at servants, yet you are
stuffy and detached. The beast with all his anger and frustration
didn’t hold back his feelings. Well, not much,” I added, recalling
the many times he had in fact shown restraint.

“Are you calling me cold?” he asked,
appalled.

I considered how he had stood in the doorway
when he’d found me with the baker, how he’d helped Egrit and I
clear the top floor, and how he’d sat through so many meals with
me, speaking of nothing but estate affairs. His tantrum on the
other side of the door just now wasn’t his usual behavior.

“Yes, I think I am.”

“I see,” he said.

I expected him to walk out the door.
Instead, he turned the lock.

“Sir?” I asked hesitantly.

“Alec,” he corrected, removing his
jacket.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he turned
and stalked toward me.

“Changing your opinion of me.” With a slight
smile, he reached up and unknotted his neckcloth.

Panic flared in my chest as I understood his
meaning, and I started to back away. He caught my wrist.

“I don’t think so.”

His thumb gently stroked the sensitive skin
protecting my pulse, and my heart started to beat in fear.

“Please don’t do this.” My breaths started
coming too fast. I felt the baker’s weight pushing down on me
again. “I won’t let you do this.” Panic and desperation pitched my
voice.

Horror filled Alec’s expression.

“Benella, no. I would never...”

Instead of stepping away, he wrapped his
arms around me, pinning me to his chest.

“Never,” he whispered in my ear as I
shook.

He made no further move, other than to run
his hand over my hair. I breathed in the smell of him and closed my
eyes, imagining I had the beast back. He held me tightly until the
shaking stopped.

When he pulled back, he looked as lost as I
felt. He dropped his hands to his sides and stared at me.

“I don’t know how to prove who I am.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I don’t need to because you think you
already know.” His gaze reflected the pain I’d caused him. He shook
his head and left, slamming his door.

For some reason, my eyes began to water.

I hoped Father wouldn’t need too long to
consider my plight.

* * * *

An hour later, someone knocked, disturbing
my musings. I opened the door and found my father standing just
outside. Hope lit me from the inside, despite his grave
expression.

“I cannot find Lord Ruhall. Do you know
where he might be?”

Lord Ruhall? Keeping my disappointment
hidden, I answered.

“Did you try his room?”

“Yes. Right after you left, a boy delivered
this. I’ve been looking for him since then.” Father handed me a
letter.

I fully expect you to hold with tradition
and open the manor for the harvest feast with invitations sent to
appropriate guests only. I will be watching. ~Rose

“Harvest feast?” I said, looking up at
Father.

“I don’t have the details of what this means
but with only three hundred gold to last until spring, I cannot see
how the estate might host any feast. That she wants invitations
sent...”

Invitations typically went to those of
wealth. Those equal to Lord Ruhall’s standing. For two heartbeats,
happiness filled me. It was impossible to do, just as my father had
suggested. The beast would return.

Guilt killed my brief joy. No matter how
much I missed the beast, I could not condemn Alec to a fate he did
not deserve. He had paid for his past sins and truly seemed to have
learned from them. He didn’t chase after women, drink, or gamble;
and he was working hard to amend the poor affairs of his estate. He
had suffered enough. Rose’s game needed to end. And my father
deserved steady employment without the threat of enchantment.

I tapped the letter against my palm with
resolve and started to consider options. The three hundred gold
currently noted in the ledgers needed to remain there for the
estate to endure over winter and prosper once more in spring. Could
a feast be hosted without spending estate gold?

“We need more information to know exactly
what this feast entails. I’ll find Mr. Crow; you keep searching for
Lord Ruhall.”

With purpose, I strode from the room.

* * * *

Mr. Crow proved as hard to find as Lord
Ruhall. His usual post by the door was vacant as were the library
and study. I left Father in the study to wait for Lord Ruhall while
I continued my search. Near the kitchen, I heard voices.

“If the food preparation is complete, then
use your time to polish the silver. Idle hands will not be
tolerated here.”

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Wimbly said with a bob of
her head as I entered. Her gaze met mine, and I suspected we had
the same thought. My hands, when idle, seemed tolerated well
enough.

Looking away, I spotted a kettle on the
block and realized I’d missed breakfast and the midday meal. My
stomach rumbled hungrily but I knew I would not be welcomed to eat
just then. After Mrs. Wimbly turned away to find an appropriate
task for herself, I moved toward Mr. Crow.

“May I speak with you?”

“Certainly, Miss Hovtel,” he said
formally.

He walked me to the cook’s personal room.
The cookbooks that the beast and I had combed through were missing,
the floor was scrubbed, and the window was open to let in the fresh
air. Mr. Crow sat behind the desk.

“Is this your study now?”

“Yes. I made the mistake of ignoring the
day-to-day activities of the staff in the past and will not repeat
it.”

I wondered how an office in the kitchen
helped that, but didn’t ask.

“Can you tell me about the harvest feast
that used to be held here?”

“Large affairs that stopped long before Lady
Ruhall left for the South, just after the current Lord Ruhall
invited several...unsavory guests.”

That explained Rose’s note about appropriate
guests.

“How many guests usually attended? Were
certain families typically invited?”

“The harvest feast wasn’t as formal as the
winter feast. The doors opened to whichever locals Lady Ruhall saw
fit to invite. Music and dancing filled the ballroom, and the
tables groaned with food in the dining room.” He sighed and looked
out the window for a moment. “So many looked forward to the harvest
feast. It was a time when the Lord and Lady did not stand above the
rest. They joined them, listened to their problems, made merry with
them. From Konrall to the Water, everyone looked forward to seeing
an invitation delivered to their door.”

I withheld my cringe. Though inviting locals
meant a less grand affair, it also possibly meant a larger number
of guests.

“An estimate, Mr. Crow. How many guests do
you recall hosting?”

“As many as would fill the ballroom.”

I sat in the chair across from his desk and
set the letter before him. Sharing the information was necessary as
it affected them all.

“Mr. Crow, Rose is placing a condition on
the estate’s continued freedom. The tradition of the harvest feast
must renew. When does the feast typically take place?”

Mr. Crow paled.

“After the harvests are complete. Another
three or four weeks, perhaps.”

Four weeks. Three hundred coin. I bit my
lip, thinking.

“How many servants did you have then?
Twenty, wasn’t it?” I said, answering myself.

“Yes. That included the cooks, livery men,
housemaids, and myself.”

The hopelessness in his tone caught my
attention.

“Mr. Crow, do not give up before we start.
We need an accounting of the stores. Every last thing from milk to
wine, from wilted carrots to salted pork,” I said, standing.

“Where will you be, Miss?”

“The ballroom.”

I left the room and called for Egrit.

“I sent her to milk the goats,” Mrs. Wimbly
said, sounding impatient.