Devastation: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (3 page)

My mind raced. I could see him again.
Excitement surged for only a moment before I killed it. No, I
couldn’t see
him
. I would never see the beast again. He was
gone. Lord Ruhall, the man who had watched with dispassionate eyes
as the baker tried to force himself on me, had taken the beast’s
place.

“Is this why you asked if I wanted to
return?”

“Yes. When I visited, people were coming and
going through the gates at will. I don’t think there would be any
danger.”

I considered the letter once more and didn’t
see that Father had much choice but to accept. The idea of
returning made my stomach churn with anger. Yet, unlike my sisters,
I would not make Father sacrifice any more of his books when there
was a viable option to save them. His books meant so much to him.
Books...I stopped my pacing and smiled at him excitedly.

“We most certainly should go, then. You will
love the library, Father. There are more books than you can
imagine.” Of the beast and the Liege Lord, I forced myself to give
little thought. One was dead and the other a cold stranger.

Father smiled and patted my hand, and we
agreed to travel to the manor the next morning with the hope that
we might return with a carriage for our belongings.

Chapter 2

The gates stood open as Father had said.
Around the iron, vines curled, green, yet lifeless; the vitality
the enchantment had imbued, gone. A man with a scythe hacked at the
growth that crowded the drive. Another man worked not far from
there, pulling out roots and picking up the cut remains the first
man left in his wake.

Father and I walked the drive, each of us
carrying a single bag. With the sun shining and the lane mostly
cleared, the estate lacked the feeling I’d previously associated
with it. A forbidden safety. Now, it seemed only a rundown
estate.

When we reached the door, the man who swept
the steps looked us over. There was no recognition in his eyes when
he glanced at me, and I knew he was new to the Liege Lord’s
service. He directed us to the kitchen door. Familiar with the
grounds, I nodded and led the way along the newly-made, narrow
path. As I walked, I wondered how many of the original staff had
remained after the enchantment had broken.

The kitchen door stood open, the hearth
overheating the room as the three cooks set about making the
morning meal. This room appeared much the same, yet with so many
present, very different. Those differences gave me hope that the
memories of my time spent here would remain buried and that I might
be comfortable here once more.

“Good morning,” my father said to the
kitchen staff.

One of the cooks looked up with a slightly
disgruntled expression.

“We’ve hired the staff we can. Come back
next fall. There might be more work then.”

Father didn’t even blink at her less than
welcoming tone.

“I am his Lord’s man of estate. Mr. Benard
Hovtel.”

The cook glanced at us once more then dusted
her hands on her apron.

“I’m Mrs. Wimbly, Lord Ruhall’s head cook.
I’ll have the maid inform him of your arrival.” She moved toward
the hall and yelled for Egrit.

The familiar name almost made me smile. So,
a few had stayed.

“Have a seat,” the cook said with a nod
toward the table. “I’ll feed you while you wait.”

We’d barely seated ourselves when she set a
coddled egg before each of us and moved away.

Behind us, someone strode into the room.
Thinking it Egrit, I glanced over my shoulder. It wasn’t Egrit, but
still a face I recognized. And the sight of it killed my
appetite.

The events that had unfolded at the bakery
had overshadowed my glimpse of Lord Ruhall. Now, however, I saw him
clearly. He was young and handsome with a strong jaw and a regal
nose. His dark hair and thick brows made him appear a bit imposing
while his blue eyes lent an air of cool detachment. He was dressed
in fine clothes, his hair was neatly combed, and he appeared quite
well.

Resentment clouded my thinking. How could he
look so well when I felt so ill?

The Lord of the estate looked around for
someone, presumably the cook, and froze when he saw me. Surprise
colored his face as his gaze swept over me then moved to my
father.

“I would speak to your daughter, with your
permission, sir,” he said to Father, not even looking at me
again.

“It is not my permission that matters, but
hers,” my father said, looking at me in question.

“It is yours that matters at the moment,”
the Liege Lord said.

My eyebrows rose, and my hand instinctively
closed over my coddled egg. Suddenly the egg sailed through the air
and hit the returned Lord of the North in the chest. I couldn’t
remember throwing it. Yet, I didn’t regret it.

“I think my permission matters most, sir,” I
said, standing. Despite his apparent disregard for me, I
mattered.

His shocked gaze swung to me. Yolk dripped
from his neckcloth onto his coat.

Several of the servants looked at me with
rounded eyes as well. Of course, I’d shocked them. One of our rank
did not disobey the Lord of the North or, at least, didn’t lob an
egg at him. The assistant cook moved forward to offer him a cloth
to clean up. He accepted the rag.

“Sit,” he said in an authoritative voice
that rang in the kitchen.

While he looked down at the mess I’d made of
his shirt, I ignored his command and marched from the kitchen
toward the hall. I was wrong to think I could reside here. Wrong to
think I could avoid my feelings of resentment and mistrust for him
or that I might avoid him entirely.

“Benella!”

Anger laced his voice, sending a chill
through me. My pulse leapt, and I instinctively lifted my skirts
and ran. Egrit barely twisted out of my way near the laundry
room.

Behind me, he yelled, asking which way I’d
gone. I needed to leave. Quickly.

I slid into the entry where a weathered
butler stood beside the door.

“Open the door,” I said as I raced toward
the man. His black eyes widened, and I immediately knew him. “Mr.
Crow, open the damn door.”

He hurriedly tugged it open. Just a few hand
spans, but it was enough for me to squeeze through before the Liege
Lord raced into the room.

“Why did you let her out?” I heard him
demand as he pulled the door open.

“Because she was trying to escape you,
sir.”

I kept running but almost laughed. The
servants who’d been enchanted had learned well.

Without warning, an arm encircled my waist,
and I found myself tumbling forward. Something pressed against my
back, and I turned in midair.

Facing the sky, I landed on something soft.
Him.

I scrambled off and backed away a few steps
as he slowly climbed to his feet. Poised to run, I glared at
him.

“Why are you always throwing food at me?” he
asked, his face red.

“You deserved it,” I said, my temper freeing
my tongue. He deserved far more than a lobbed egg.

His eyes flashed, and he took a step toward
me. I backed up a step. He stopped his advance and threw his hands
in the air.

“Why are you acting as if you fear me
now?”

I almost snorted. When had I ever let fear
rule me?

“How should I act?”

His expression softened.

“The same as you always have.”

This time I did snort. “I thought you didn’t
like me throwing food.”

He relaxed his stance. “You are correct. Act
the same as you always have with the exception of the food
throwing. Stop that.”

“I cannot act the same. I am not the same
person and neither are you. I thought I knew you, but I do
not.”

He frowned at me. “What do you mean?”

Bitterly, I eyed him. “The beast I’d grown
fond of growled at me, ranted at me, and clawed through doors to
get to me. He fed me. Cared for me. The Liege Lord stood in the
doorway of the bakery and did nothing when that pig of a man rutted
over me.”

He paled and reached for me. I pulled back,
and he dropped his hand.

“I am still that beast. Only Rose’s
restraining hand kept me from—” He closed his eyes briefly.
“Benella, I wanted to kill him for touching you.”

I struggled not to scoff.

He studied my unforgiving expression for a
moment then took a slow breath.

“I need you here,” he said. “I’m barely in
control. Rose is watching me. She doubts I can be a lord in
truth.”

He needed my help, just as the beast had,
but the pity I’d felt for the lonely beast didn’t pertain to the
man before me. I didn’t want to help the Liege Lord. Yet, I knew I
could give only one answer. For my father’s sake and to avoid
destitution, I had to agree.

“Of course I will help you, my Lord.”

He stepped close again, and I quickly backed
away several steps.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he asked,
anger flashing in his eyes.

“It is not proper to stand too close to a
servant. Haven’t you learned anything?” I glanced at the lower
windows of the manor, glad for the several faces that peeked out at
us.

He followed my gaze and growled but kept his
distance.

“We have more to discuss. Come to my study
when you’ve finished your meal.” Then, he stomped back inside.

I chose to walk around to the kitchen door.
My heavy heart dragged my feet and slowed my progress. Seeing him
had shocked me. And I realized my affection for the beast hadn’t
disappeared with the dear creature. Yet, it didn’t extend to the
man, either.

When I returned to the table, Father looked
up from his eggs and studied me with a slight smile on his
lips.

“How did your talk go?”

“Well, I’m not sure we ever got to the point
of his request. He wants me to go to his study after I’ve finished
eating.”

“You have egg in your hair,” Egrit said as
she passed me.

* * * *

After washing in the laundry, I made my way
to the library. Lord Ruhall paced in his study. As soon as I
entered, he turned toward me. Some of his agitation faded as I
approached.

“Sit,” he said.

“Do you ever tire of giving commands?” I
asked as I sat. Behind me, he closed the study doors.

“No.”

He walked around my chair to stand in front
of me. He still moved with the grace I’d grown accustomed to,
walking with more of a prowl than a stride.

“Is it different? As a man?” I asked before
I could stop myself.

“Yes. Uncomfortable, truthfully. I had more
freedom before. Everything feels so restrained now. Not just my
clothes, or how I move, but my own skin.”

“How old were you when you were
enchanted?”

“No more than twenty-three,” he said.

“You are over seventy years old. Of course
you’ll feel a little strained.” He grunted, but I caught the amused
twinkle in his eyes so like the twinkle the beast had in his eyes
in the weeks before I was taken. I felt an ache in my middle at the
sight.

“Of what did you wish to speak?” I asked,
not wanting to spend more time than necessary with him.

He leaned back against his desk and studied
me for several long moments. I fought to remain still under his
scrutiny. Finally, he sighed.

“I think estate concerns are the safest
subject for the time being. As you suggested, I read up on farming
and contacted your friend, Henick, whom you shall never kiss again,
by the way.”

My eyebrows shot up, but he continued
without pause.

“There is no hope for planting any of the
overgrown fields this year, but there are many ways to prepare them
for next year. I need you to listen to my plans and point out any
flaws.”

He explained that he’d harvested several
bags of primrose from the lands and contracted with the local
candle maker for scented candles. He also contacted the traveling
merchant to establish a permanent trade route, though he didn’t
state what he planned to trade.

For the candles that the candle maker had
created from the flowers, the merchant paid the estate half of what
was owed in gold and half in goats. The twenty goats now grazed in
the overgrown fields, helping to prepare the ground for spring.

The remaining gold had been used to hire
three cooks, two housemaids, five workers, a butler, a teacher, and
a man of estate.

“Why three cooks?”

“I would slowly starve if I were left to
feed myself.”

The memory of the beast dropping eggs on the
floor pressed against me, and I frowned. I didn’t want
reminders.

“I’m concerned with the expense. Surely one
cook can handle simple meals through the summer.”

“What of preparing food stores for the
winter?” He tilted his head, appearing truly interested in my
thoughts.

I recalled all the work Bryn did for the
four of us and adjusted my thinking.

“Two cooks perhaps, but certainly not three.
What are the five workers doing?”

“Two are clearing the drive so wagons with
supplies can pass. Swiftly is repairing the stables. And the other
two are gathering and re-sowing the seeds from the primrose to
expand the field for next spring.”

“How many horses do you have?”

“None yet.”

“What of the one...” I couldn’t finish the
question. The image of Swiftly bringing me home in a horse drawn
carriage also called to mind the baker. Lord Ruhall seemed to read
my mind.

“Borrowed,” he said quietly.

I struggled to think of something else.

“Have Swiftly help with the drive. With
three there, as soon as it’s passible, all five can work on the
seeds. Re-sowing will give the greatest return next year. A horse,
if you obtain one, can wait for stables to be repaired.”

He rubbed his jaw as he listened
intently.

“And having two maids seems extravagant when
not much of the manor is being used,” I said.