Devastation: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (14 page)

Once I reached him, I gently touched his
face.

“What upsets you so?”

He closed his eyes, heaved a breath, and
leaned his cheek into my hand. He stayed like that until some of
the flush faded from his face. Pulling away from me, he reached for
a crumpled piece of parchment and handed it to me.

Having a woman assist with your bath is not
a wise decision. I am watching and will take from you all you hold
dear if you continue with these transgressions. ~Rose

“I see,” I said, though I didn’t. How did
fetching soap mean I had assisted with a bath? Aryana had assisted
with my bath in a far more physical manner at the Whispering
Sisters. Her assessment of the situation remained far from just.
Then again, all her assessments seemed to run toward unjust. I
thought of the marks on Alec’s shoulder as I glanced up at him.

He looked ready to start throwing things
again. He didn’t seem cold at all, now, and I wondered if he ever
had been. Could it be that he had only been trying to maintain
control of himself? A control he still hadn’t mastered by the looks
of it.

Though I agreed he had a reason to be upset,
his way of showing his disagreement needed to stop.

I glanced at the door and saw Mr. Crow and
Father there.

“Mr. Crow, would you bring some spring water
to the library?” He nodded and left. “Father, would it bother you
if I read aloud while you worked?”

“No. Not at all,” he said.

I turned back to Alec. “Would you care to
listen to me read for a while?”

His gaze searched mine. So much anger and
resentment churned there. Yet, I didn’t think any of it was for me.
Should it be, though? Perhaps I had misunderstood him. Or perhaps
regaining my affection was another game. After all, if I’d
misunderstood, why hadn’t he come to see Father as Swiftly had said
that day?

Instead of answering, Alec motioned for me
to lead him out. I went to the couch before the fire and waited. He
joined me with a book on farming. I smiled at the topic, recalling
better times, and took the book from him. I reclined on the couch
so my braid draped over the arm, and Alec sat on the floor. A
moment later, I felt a tug on my braid, and I began.

Mr. Crow arrived with the pitcher and cups
before I’d progressed more than a page. He quietly set everything
on the table next to the tray already there, then withdrew as I
continued reading about selective animal husbandry to create a
stronger herd.

Alec’s fingers combed through my hair as I
read, and I hoped it soothed him as much as he soothed me.

Finishing the chapter, I closed the book
with a snap then waited.

“Thank you,” Alec said softly, removing his
hands.

I sat up, moved over, and patted the spot
beside me. He rose from the floor and took the seat.

“You have every right to be upset,” I said,
reaching to pour him a cup of water. “However, destroying your
study resolves nothing.” I handed him the cup and watched his
expression.

His jaw clenched, but he nodded.

“She seems so fond of writing you notes.
Write one back.” I helped myself to a meat pie and waited for his
reaction.

“And what would I say to defend myself? She
is correct. I shouldn’t have—” He looked down at his water.

“Alec,” I reached out and took his hand in
mine, “you’re not the man you were. Don’t let her keep punishing
you for a past you’ve already paid for.”

His hand tightened around mine a moment
before he released me and walked back to his study, picking up the
ejected book on his way.

I let out a long slow breath, then
stood.

“I’ll take this tray back to the kitchen. Do
you need help with anything today?” I asked, looking at my
father.

“No, Bini. We’ll be fine here.”

I left, carrying the tray to the kitchen,
and once again not speaking to my father as I’d planned.

Chapter 7

Mr. Crow stood at the open door, polishing
the knocker.

“Would you like me to return the tray for
you?” he asked, stepping forward.

“No need. I haven’t eaten yet,” I said.

He nodded and let me continue with the
tray.

When I entered the kitchen, Kara kneaded
bread at the block. Her nervous glance at me, then at the stairs to
the cellar, only left me puzzled for a moment.

“Where is the milk?” Mrs. Wimbly shouted
from the cellar.

“Sorry, Miss,” Kara whispered as Mrs. Wimbly
thundered up the steps.

I set the tray on the table and braced
myself for a confrontation. However, when she saw me, she stopped
in her tracks. Her face turned red, and the disapproving set of her
mouth tightened. With a glare, she turned on her heel and left the
kitchen.

“She’ll go to Mr. Crow to complain,” Kara
said.

That Mrs. Wimbly went to Mr. Crow didn’t
bother me. She would likely find an unsympathetic ear there.
However, it did concern me that she was spending time on worrying
about milk.

“How are the preparations coming along?” I
asked as I browsed the pots for any leftovers. I’d missed breakfast
because of Alec in the bath and Rose’s nail marks, and now I’d
missed lunch because of his temper. I wasn’t about to go hungry
until dinner.

“By the fire, you’ll still find some fish
stew,” Kara said quietly. “There are biscuits in the oven, too.
We’ve stored a good portion of stag, boar, and fish for the winter.
The menu for the feast still needs to be settled.”

“Have we smoked any fish yet?” I skipped the
stew, though it did look tasty, and helped myself to a biscuit.

“Not yet. Mrs. Wimbly plans to start that
closer to the feast.”

“Will that interfere with all the meat pies
she needs to make?” I took a quick bite.

“I believe she hopes one of the girls from
the schoolroom will help us in the days just before the feast.”

“Perhaps in the evenings, but I’ll stay true
to my word. They will remain in the classroom during the day.”

Kara nodded but I saw the doubt there. I
needed to find Mrs. Wimbly and set her straight regarding the
children and their roles. Still nibbling my biscuit, I left the
kitchen.

Neither she nor Mr. Crow were by the closed
front door. Wandering further, I heard faint voices from the
library.

“...will not tolerate any more
interference,” I heard Mrs. Wimbly say from the study as I entered
the library. “You hired me as the head cook, a position that
requires me to complete preparation and planning each week.”

I glanced at my father who sat at his desk.
He met my gaze briefly then focused on his book once more, his
expression set. Whatever the discussion in Lord Ruhall’s study,
Father did not approve.

Mrs. Wimbly continued in her agitated
tone.

“My preparation and plans fall apart when
others take it upon themselves to remove supplies without
approval.”

The woman had admitted to me that she threw
much of the milk to waste. Why was she so upset? And why bring such
a petty grievance before Alec? I continued toward the study and
caught sight of Mr. Crow beside Alec.

“Mrs. Wimbly, who is taking it upon
themselves to remove supplies and what supplies were removed?” Alec
asked. Though his tone was calm, the tension from Rose’s last
letter remained in his hard expression.

I caught Mr. Crow’s attention as I neared
the study door, and his troubled gaze found mine. Nodding to Mr.
Crow, I stepped into the study before Mrs. Wimbly could answer.

“I beg your pardon, but I believe I’ve upset
Mrs. Wimbly by taking milk from the cold storage.”

“You believe? Yes, you’ve upset me. You have
no regard for—”

“Mrs. Wimbly,” Alec said, “I would like a
private word with Miss Hovtel. Thank you for bringing this to my
attention.”

“Very good,” she said. She shot me a
satisfied look and strode from the room. Mr. Crow moved to follow
her.

“A moment, Phillip,” Alec said.

Mr. Crow paused his departure and turned to
look at Alec.

“Mrs. Wimbly is to leave my employ
immediately. See her packed and delivered to wherever it is she
came from.”

“What? But why?” I asked as Mr. Crow moved
to leave. “Wait, Mr. Crow.” I held up a hand to forestall him and
turned to Alec. “We need her. The feast is just weeks away. We
can’t possibly manage with just one cook.”

Mr. Crow glanced at Alec who waved him from
the room. An edge of panic grabbed me as I realized my plea had
fallen on deaf ears.

“Alec, please be reasonable. She’s done
nothing to deserve dismissal.”

He stood and moved around the desk. His
carefully blank expression unnerved me.

“She has done nothing?” He stopped before me
and lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair from my cheek. “Phillip
said she’s rude to you and refuses to treat you with the courtesy
you deserve.”

Very few had lately. The thought brought the
hurt of my sisters’ rejections dangerously close to the surface,
and I quickly turned away.

Alec caught my arm and brought me back
around.

“What’s this, now?” he said, studying my
face. A second later, he pulled me into a firm hug. “Surely, Mrs.
Wimbly’s dismissal isn’t that upsetting. Even your father finds her
disagreeable,” he said against my hair.

Secure in his arms, the hurt from Blye’s
latest rejection eased. His hold felt so right. I leaned into the
protection of his arms, allowing myself a moment of shelter from
all life had been throwing at me lately. I wrapped my arms around
his waist and breathed deeply of his familiar scent.

“You can speak to me, Benella,” he said
softly. “I’m here to listen. Always.”

I sighed as I realized how much I needed
just that.

“It’s not your dismissal of Mrs. Wimbly.
It’s my life. I can’t—”

His arms tightened around me so much that I
looked up. His closed eyes, red face, and clenched jaw surprised
me; and I knew I’d upset him. Removing my hold from his waist, I
cupped his face.

“Alec, you’re no longer listening.”

He exhaled slowly, and his turbulent gaze
found me.

“I am. You still want to leave. Don’t.” He
closed his eyes once more and set his forehead to mine, a tormented
man seeking sanctuary. What a poor pair we were, both seeking the
same thing.

“I’ve made up my mind to stay and help with
the feast. I won’t abandon you.”

“Say ever. Say, ‘I won’t abandon you ever,
Alec.’”

I soothed my fingers over his jaw. His
breath tickled my neck. When I said nothing, he opened his eyes.
From the study, my father loudly cleared his throat, and I surmised
we’d been quiet for too long.

“About Mrs. Wimbly?” I said, trying to step
back. Alec’s arms tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might
not release me. Then, they fell to his sides. He studied me
intensely, and I wondered what he searched so hard for in my
expression.

Finally, he shook his head.

“Phillip will search for an immediate
replacement. I would like you to help interview whomever he
finds.”

“Of course.”

* * * *

That night, I didn’t sleep until Alec came
to my bed and wrapped his arms around me. I waited until his
breathing deepened then turned in his arms. Lightly, I ran my
fingers over the marks. The hard, puckered skin rose from the
sculpted curve of his shoulder. Rose had marked him deeply.

As I lay there, I again struggled with how
he’d stood there and calmly ordered the baker off of me. Were these
marks enough to absolve him of his inaction? No. But they were
enough for me to start questioning what happened after Tennen took
me from the manor. Questions that I would never speak because I
trusted no one to tell me the truth.

The most important in my mind was, why
hadn’t Alec come for me like Swiftly had said he would?

* * * *

In the morning, Egrit woke me with a letter
and a coddled egg.

“A letter is never good news in this place,”
I said, sitting up.

Egrit grinned at me. “You’re very
perceptive.” She left the room before I could say more. Sighing
heavily, I unfolded the note.

Benella,

Bryn and I have heard Lord Ruhall is in need
of another cook. I know Bryn deserves less after her treatment of
you, but would you perhaps mention her for consideration? Business
remains slow enough that I manage the store and the stove well
without assistance.

Yours,

Edmund

Ungraciously, I did not want to endure my
sister’s presence on a daily basis. Yet, I knew her skill in the
kitchen and knew we could do worse. However, it wasn’t a decision I
wanted to make without Father’s input.

I dressed and carried my egg and the letter
to the library.

“Good morning, Bini,” Father said from his
seat at his desk.

“Good morning, Father. I received a letter
this morning.”

“Letters bode ill here.”

“My sentiments as well. I cannot ignore this
one. Yet, I do not know how to respond.”

I handed him the letter then sat on the
chair near his desk. While he read, I ate the egg, enjoying the
deliciously soft yolk.

“Hmm,” Father said, sitting back. “What were
your first thoughts after reading this?”

“That Edmund was correct. Bryn doesn’t
deserve my consideration. Then, I immediately felt guilty for
having such uncharitable thoughts. Even if Bryn doesn’t deserve the
opportunity, Edmund does. For him to reach out...I think he truly
needs help.”

“So you’ll speak to Lord Ruhall.”

“Speak to me about what?” Alec asked,
walking into the library. His gaze went to the empty eggshell and
spoon that I held. “How was it?”

“Did you make the egg?”

“I thought with Mrs. Wimbly gone Kara might
need some assistance in the kitchen.”

A laugh escaped me. It couldn’t be helped.
The image of him wandering into the kitchen and offering aid...