Beastly Beauty

Fifty-Seven

So this is death, Beau thought.

It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He was warm, at least. And lying on something soft.

Am I in heaven?he wondered.

Would he find his mother here? What would he say to her? How would he tell her that he’d failed her, that he’d left Matteo all alone?

He forced his eyes open, searching for her face, for the brown eyes he’d known, so warm, so full of kindness. Instead, he saw a pair of gray eyes looking down at him. Soft as a gull’s wing, full of worry.

“Arabella?” he rasped. His throat felt as if someone had rubbed it with sandpaper. “Am I … am I alive?”

“Had enough of malingering, Sleeping Beauty? Time to get your scrawny backside up.”

Beau turned his head and saw a whiskered face staring down at him, too. It was wearing a cantankerous expression.

“Looks like I didn’t make it to heaven,” he said, his voice still a croak. “Looks like I’m in hell. With Satan himself.”

Valmont straightened, affronted. “I cleaned you up, thief. Stitched you, washed you, stayed up half the night with you.”

“Didn’t know you cared, Monty.”

Valmont turned to Arabella. “I shall have breakfast sent up, Your Grace,” he said crisply, then he left the room.

“You’ve hurt his feelings,” Arabella admonished.

Beau closed his eyes. He didn’t give a damn about anyone’s feelings. They’d lied to him, all of them, and their lies had nearly cost him his life. After swallowing a few times to ease his parched throat, he spoke again. “How did I get here?” he asked.

“Valmont and Florian. They went out after you, found you in the woods, and carried you back,” Arabella replied.

“But the wolves …”

“I took care of them.”

She poured a glass of water and handed it to him, explaining as she did that she’d run from the castle deep into the forest, but then she’d heard the wolves howling and him shouting, and she’d returned and fought the animals off.

Should I thank her for that?Beau wondered. He didn’t. He forced his eyes open and looked around. He was lying in a four-poster bed, in a large, well-appointed chamber. He sat up, grimacing at the throbbing chorus of pain coming from his arm and leg.

“Why am I not in my tower room?” he asked, his voice still gravelly.

“This one is closer to the kitchen,” Arabella explained. “It’s easier to carry hot water here, as well as medicines and poultices to fight off infection.”

He looked at her then. She was sitting in a chair by his bed, wearing a night-robe. It looked as if she’d just come in from the woods. Her tousled hair hung loose around her shoulders. Leaves and tiny twigs were stuck in it. She met his eyes, then looked down at her hands. They were knotted in her lap.

“You saw me. The first time I tried to escape,” he said. “I made it down the tower stairs to the landing. You chased me …”

“I only meant to scare you. To keep you from roaming the castle and learning its secrets.” Her eyes met his. “If there’s anyone you should be angry with, it’s me, not Valmont. For chasing you. For attacking you in the dining room. For the gouges in your arm. I—I can’t always control it. I’m sorry, Beau. So sorry. For everything. Florian, Henri, myself … We’ll get the bridge built for you. I promise. Valmont will help, too. And Martin and Gustave and anyone else who can sharpen a pole or swing a sledgehammer.”

As she spoke, a few of her ladies assembled in Beau’s chamber and clustered together, whispering behind their hands, shooting curious glances at him.

“I think he’s going to die,” Lady Rafe predicted. “Of some dreadful infection. Sepsis, perhaps. Gangrene. Or rabies.”

Lady Sadindi wrinkled her nose. “Let’s hope he does it quickly and doesn’t make a smelly mess.”

More members of the court entered the room, crowding in through the doorway. They were followed by Josette, who was carrying a breakfast tray. There was so much chatter that no one noticed the two small girls who snuck in behind her and hid within the draperies.

Josette set the tray down on a table, then curtsied and left. Arabella rose, assembled a plate for Beau, and placed it on his night table. Her ladies watched her every move with busy, bright-eyed interest.

“I’ll go now. You must rest,” Arabella said, turning to go.

There was something evasive in her voice, skittish in her manner.

“No,”Beau said.

Arabella halted in the doorway. “Is there something wrong with the breakfast? Something else you’d like?”

“Stop it, Arabella.”

She nodded as if she’d been expecting this. “What do you want, then?” she asked.

“The truth.”

Arabella gave a bitter laugh. “Where would I even start?”

She’d asked the question of herself, not him, but he answered it nonetheless.

“I saw you. In the mirror in your old chambers. With your mother and aunt. You were trying on gowns for a ball. Start there.”