Beauty and the Beast (Faerie Tale Collection) (2 page)

His heart began to beat fast.

What if he were caught?

Prince Alexander knew it would be highly uncomfortable to them both, she in her state of undress and he the chosen prince of the land escaping his castle. He had been roaming farther and wider from the palace than normal of late. Escaping the confines of the huge monstrous place, he needed to be outdoors. He needed to see where it was his demented form took him to each evening. Just last night, transformed into the beast, he’d come across this exact brook and had been eager to see what it looked like in the daylight. He came as soon as he’d awoken from his night’s adventures and had become his usual self again. What had seemed like a good idea earlier, now all of the sudden seemed very bad indeed.

CHAPTER TWO

WHY MUST HE MAKE so much noise? A few moments ago, Alexander barely heard the crunching his boots made as he’d rushed along the wooded trail. Now, it would seem every step he took echoed across the whole land. Gingerly he took another pace backward, the leaves and forest floor covering snapping beneath his weight. He prayed the sound of the water and her own thoughts would distract the girl enough to allow him his escape.

Another couple of steps and he would be out of her eyesight at least, though he’d have to keep quiet a bit longer than that. Who knew how sharp her ears were.

Alexander could almost taste his freedom, when just then he startled a small rabbit from its hiding spot under the bush to his right. The animal scurried loudly across the forest floor and headed straight for the girl.

She glanced up at the sudden movement and caught the prince as he was ready to flee himself. Her eyes grew wide with shock and the inevitable anger quickly replaced her beautiful looks into the scowling fortress before him.

He mumbled under his breath, not realizing until it was too late, exactly who he had disrupted. Her face had been hidden just enough to not recognize her until now. It would have been his luck to stumble across the only female in the land who absolutely loathed him and had no problem telling him so to his face whenever she had the opportunity. How did the fates find him this fortunate? What were the odds of such an occurrence, really?

“You?!”

Miss Hammerstein-Smythe’s outraged shriek he was certain could be heard for miles.

Already Alexander’s hands were up in a defensive gesture. “Now, wait a moment. This is not what it looks like. I merely—”

“You
have
been following me! I knew it.” She quickly scrambled to her feet and brushed her gown down over her bare legs. “How long have you been spying on me?”

“I wasn’t. I was simply on my way to the brook having no idea you would be here.”

Cecelia placed her hands on her hips and faced him. “You expect me to believe
you,
Prince Alexander, decided to simply wander all the way from your castle to my father’s property, to my exact favorite spot along this whole streambed, where you could’ve stopped anywhere, at the exact same time I would be here, and that it was not because of me?”

“No. Yes! I do expect you to believe just that, because it is the truth.”

“What do you want from me? Why must every time I search for peace I find you?”

“I’m sure it’s not
every
time.” He watched her arch an eyebrow. “Look, nothing. Nothing. I want nothing. I don’t even want to talk to you.”

She scrunched her nose slightly and titled her head. “Why should I believe you?”

Alexander moved forward just a step. “Because, as I said, it is the truth.”

Cecelia was embarrassed, completely mortified if she were honest, but she would die before she let the prince know how upsetting his presence was. Instead, she did what she always did in such confrontations and went on the attack. “I do not believe you.” She took a step forward and then paused when she felt her foot crunch on the prickly forest floor. “You have never before told the truth—always bragging and lying about anything and everything—why should I care to listen to what you say now?” She folded her arms very unladylike and continued, “As far as I’m concerned you came here to torment me, so out with it.” She defiantly lifted her chin in an obvious challenge. “Say whatever lies and bullying you’d like, we’re on even ground now, you and I, with you on my father’s property and so far away from your palace guards. Tell me.”

The prince shook his head. “Miss Hammerstein-Smythe I’m not here to quarrel with you again. You can keep your solitude. Forgive me for the interruption, I wish you a good day.” With that he quickly bowed at the waist and turned on his heel to make a hasty retreat. He didn’t care where he went as long as it was as far away from the girl as he could get.

“Wait.” Cecelia cursed her impulse to call him back so quickly, but the damage had been done.

Alexander paused, but did not turn fully around. “Yes?”

Nervously she clutched the sides of her gown. “I—you, what is wrong?”

He turned toward her. “Wrong?”

Goodness, would she never learn to keep her mouth shut? She took another step forward, heedless of the sharp floor below, she felt compelled to continue. “There’s something different about you. What is it?”

Alexander attempted a laugh. To his chagrin, it came out sounding more like a nervous goat bleating, which he quickly covered with a cough. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing different at all. What do you mean?”

She grinned. She couldn’t help it. He looked just like the neighbor’s son when he was caught snitching Cook’s pastries. “Where are my insults? Have you nothing rude to say to me? You’ve never stopped before from saying exactly what was on your mind. Why is today an exception? Something has happened.”

Could she tell? Was he really different? The prince half-heartedly replied, “I can have you hanged for treason if you keep this up.”

Cecelia laughed right out loud. “That’s the best you can do? Now I know something is wrong! What is it?”

There was nothing that annoyed him more than meddling nosy females, and she was the absolute worst at interfering. Always poking and prying herself into everyone’s business. He’d seen her countless times querying and discussing all sorts of things with anyone she was around. Helping herself to offer advice, counsel, and even ailment curing to anyone from the maid to the people of the court. It was bad enough to think she thought he was different, it was quite another to subject oneself to her pitying and snooping. Before he’d know it, she’d be finding all sorts of things “wrong” with him and trying to poke and pry into his life like she did everyone else.

“Excuse me, Miss. I will leave you to your own imaginings on what you believe to be flawed with me.” With that he bowed again and left. Not caring if he ever saw Miss Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe again. In fact, he was positive if he never saw her again, it would be too soon.

***

Cecelia quickly forgot about the prince as she came back toward the house an hour or so later. She’d thought about him enough as it was that afternoon, with his strange behavior and abrupt departure. But now was not the time to worry over him, now was the time to begin her preparations for the wonderful Lord Willington. In no time at all she’d bathed, powdered, dressed, and primped for the delightful man, until she was simply the beauty of perfection in emerald green stripes. Her long curls artfully arranged by her maid in a sumptuous updo, purposefully designed to capture the heart of all who looked upon her. Or more importantly to secure the heart of one who was already hers.

She giggled as she turned from side to side at precisely a quarter past the hour and knew then she’d never seen herself look so happy or so fine. In just a few moments everything would change in her life—simply everything. And she could not wait!

Cecelia elegantly made her way down the wide staircase, slowing her steps to appear much more refined than she felt at the moment. Her purposeful approach a few minutes late also had the same effect. One should never try to appear too eager, or it gives the courter an unfair advantage over you.

“Miss Hammerstein-Smythe, you look ravishing!”

Lord Willington bowed, his shiny blond locks bobbed a bit, causing her heart to flutter to a stop. Cecelia loved the way Charles’ curls broke free from their confined hair treatments once his hat was off. She loved every aspect of him, but she did not let it show beyond a glimmer in her eyes as she curtsied. “Thank you. You look very fine, as well.”

She stepped into the pelisse the maid held out for her, and allowed the young girl to button the pretty overcoat, while she slipped her hands into her short white gloves. A moment later her matching bonnet was perched atop her head and she was ready to go. Beaming, Cecelia turned toward Lord Willington’s waiting arm, gratefully clutched it, and with a quick farewell to Sanford they were walking out into the glorious sunshine. She was gallantly handed in the carriage by Lord Willington himself, causing the rapid beating of her heart to become so loud she wondered if he could hear it.

In a trice they were off, and the clop, clop, clop of the horses’ sprightly hooves did much to increase her excitement. Many people came to their windows to watch them leave. They had quite become the talk of the village, and soon, very soon, they would be all celebrating with her at the grand engagement ball her mother and brother had been spreading word about.

Yes, life was joyously splendid.

After a few minutes at a very brisk trot winding through the village and countryside, Lord Willington pulled the carriage to a little alcove, nearly completely hidden within the copse of trees and low lying branches. It was there, with the reins in his hands, he finally turned and looked fully at the handsome girl beside him.

Charles had never seen anyone more beautiful than Cecelia. He allowed his eyes to wander lovingly across her delicate features and paused to contemplate her most perfectly delectable rose-colored lips. Nothing had been more tempting to him than kissing her, but it would not do. Not today, not the day when he’d purposely set out to tell her of his Kathryn, his Lady Dashenwold, his intended from Baythorpe Hall. No, he needed everything as perfect as it could be to break the news as gently as possible to her. For there was no way he’d ever be allowed to wed this beautiful creature next to him. Not without the proper lineage behind her. Not without the proper fortune to satisfy his father. Yes, she had a large home and her family had obviously been wealthy enough for the village, but not enough to please his father. He wanted his dear son to make an excellent match, to an excellent lineage with excellent connections. No, indeed, Miss Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe would never be the proper wife for Lord Willington and he hoped against hope she’d already come to this exact same conclusion.

CHAPTER THREE

“WELL, OF COURSE, I never thought any such thing! My goodness, imagine me thinking I would marry you!” Cecelia exclaimed with a forced smile upon her face, which she prayed looked real. “You deserve as much happiness as anyone. And Lady Dashenwold sounds the exact person to bring you such happiness.”

Cecelia had no idea what she was saying. The lies escaped so easily from her tongue she wondered briefly if the prince had rubbed off on her.

Her hands were still clasped within Lord Willington’s strong hold. She didn’t want to let go. She knew she’d never be able to hold his hands in such a way again. But, she didn’t want to hold on either. She couldn’t. They weren’t her hands to hold.

“And when did you propose to her?” Her fingers tightened upon his, showing the only sign of how painful such a question was to ask. She hoped he mistook the unconscious action as a sign of eagerness. Laughing gaily she remarked, “I wish I could have been there to witness it. Was it as truly romantic as any girl could hope for?”

Cecelia could not hear the words he spoke; it was as if her own ears were protecting her from such vileness. All she could make out was the dreaded pounding of her heart and voice inside her head repeatedly telling her to leave. Run. Quick, before he caught her crying over him.

How did she ever find herself in such a predicament? Whatever would she tell her mother and her brother, William? They would never let her live this down. Ever. She would become the complete laughingstock of the whole village. And yet, she could not keep this charade up. She must tell them. They must know Charles never meant to propose to her at all and, in fact, was very much, at this moment, decidedly engaged to another.

How she kept her composure the whole way home was a miracle unto itself, and one she could not completely identify as having anything to do with. She was in a state of utter shock. She was not coherent, she had no recollection of anything she had said or was saying. But by the good graces of luck, she’d found herself answering, giggling and doing all things happy and proper. It was as if her body were on some sort of automatic reaction and the real Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe was very far away looking down upon it all in a sad reminiscence of everything she believed she once had and saying goodbye to a world that would now never be hers.

She was shattered. She was heartbroken beyond anything she’d ever known before.

Oh, how she had loved him. How she did love him still! There was nothing she would not have done for him, nothing she would not have given him. And yet, it still was not enough. He did not want her.

He wanted another.

In a grateful haze, Cecelia thanked Lord Willington and made her way up the stairs to her room. One look at the butler as she passed was enough to let him see she needed a few hours of privacy. Sanford would take care of everything for her and make her excuses until she could face them all. Plopping onto her bed, she took enough time to remove her pelisse and bonnet, setting them on the bench in front of the footboard, before curling up in a ball—driving boots and all—and burying her face into her pillow.

Several hours later, Cecelia opened her eyes to a darkened room. She was still in her gown, but it looked as though her maid had come in and sweetly placed a blanket over her. Rolling on her back, she could just make out the moon as it slivered through the cracks of the curtains. It was quite high, signifying the night was well underway. Blinking and stretching a bit, she debated over removing her shoes and putting on her nightgown or just staying as she was. But she wasn’t tired. And now that she was awake, memories of that afternoon came flooding back with a vengeance.