He should have known better.

He should have known that she would betray him in such a way, even if he did not want to believe it at first.

Well, perhaps "betrayed" was a bit of a reach. But still, just when he had thought that maybe she understood him—just when he had begun to hope that somebody besides Chesterton accepted him for who he was—she said the words he had heard time and again from his mother and countless others. It struck him right in his heart.

And so, hope was the worst killer of all, he decided. It made disappointment much more agonizing than if there were no hope at all.

Beast stormed around his study room, knocking over books and papers. The room was a mess. He grabbed onto his head and horns, yanking them down in frustration.

"Finished with your tantrum yet, Ashworth?" Chesterton called from his seat. He swirled a bit of wine around in his glass.

Beast snarled, furiously opening one of his drawers and frantically pulling out a cigar and lighting it.

"Maybe that will calm you down." Chesterton bounced one of his legs.

"I just don't see how it is possible!" Beast sucked in and let out a huge puff of smoke. "I almost had her. Almost! I was so close to making her understand. And then she blew it, just like the rest of them. Damned fools." He banged his fist on the nearby table.

"Maybe you shouldn't try so hard. Just let it occur naturally."

Beast whirled about to face Chesterton. "Do you even know what I'm talking about?" he roared.

Chesterton grimaced. "Something about Miss Bourne...?"

He grunted, marching over to Chesterton, pointing one of his meaty, furry claws at the man. "I'm talking about last night. How she... how she—tricked me!"

"Oh please, Ashworth. You're being overdramatic. I told you not to expect so much from a simple woman."

Beast's thick brows unfurrowed slowly. The fire in his eyes subsided. "You're right." He took another puff of his cigar. "I just thought perhaps she might be something more..."

"I told you not to get your hopes up, Ashworth."

Beast sighed, facepalming. He opened up his claws, peeking at the damage he'd done to his private study. Books, papers, trinkets... all strewn about everywhere.

"I'll go fetch a servant," Chesterton said, rising from his chair.

Beast sighed and sat down at his table. He propped up his legs and breathed in the intoxicating scent of the tobacco.

Not too much later, Chesterton returned with a servant behind him. The young boy had his cleaning supplies and immediately began tidying up.

Chesterton flopped back down in his chair and sipped on his wine.

"Are you going to listen this time?" Beast asked, irritated.

Chesterton flicked his wrists at Beast. "I suppose."

Beast was used to this kind of nonchalant, seemingly uncaring behavior; it was something he usually admired about Chesterton. This time, however, he felt a brief flicker of fury rising in his stomach.

Beast ground his fangs together as he spoke, enunciating each word: "I was trying to tell you... Yesterday, in the garden, I showed myself to her."

Chesterton lurched forward and spat out his wine all over the floor. The servant boy muffled a whine.

"You what?!"

"I took off my veil, and she saw my face."

The man's eyes widened and he suddenly seemed the soberest Ashworth had seen him in quite some time.

"What in the world were you thinking, you fool!?"

Beast twisted the cigar around his claws. "Perhaps it was an irrational decision. But she seemed to want me to…"

Chesterton flitted his eyes about the room as if to ask the walls: "Am I the only one here who thinks he's gone mad?!"

Beast put his large head into his paws and shook it side to side. "I just thought she might accept me..."

"Well, of course, she wouldn't, Ashworth!" Chesterton set down his wine glass on the table next to his chair and stood up. "How did she react?"

"Well, she seemed... intrigued at first. I could sense her curiosity. But then, as I took the veil off bit by bit..." Beast stopped, defeated.

"It frightened her, didn't it?" Chesterton asked, hands on his hips.

"I believe so. She asked me to put it back on almost immediately."

"And then what?"

"She... she told me it didn't matter what I looked like." He squinted. "That I was different on the inside from the outside."

Chesterton nodded, then chuckled under his breath. "I wonder what she would think if she ever found out about what happens at night."

"She would surely never want to see me again," Beast said, removing his paws from his face. "I just thought she would be the one to understand. The one besides you, of course."

"Well, what's wrong with me?" Chesterton laughed.

"You don't always listen," Beast smirked. "And you're never sober."

Chesterton opened his mouth and lifted a finger to protest, but stopped mid-breath. He looked down before beginning again: "Be that as it may... who really needs anyone else?"

Beast groaned, leaned forward, and rested his head on the desk.

"You just need your ole pal, ole chum—Chesterton! Not a prissy who can't even bear to stand the sight of you."

"Thanks, ole chum," Beast said, rolling his eyes.

"You're welcome, my good man." He bowed flamboyantly, then corrected: "Or—my good monster."

Beast shook his head. "What would I do without you?" he grumbled, his deep voice rumbling the room.

Chesterton picked up his wine glass again and plopped into his chair. "Who knows?"

As Beast puffed on his cigar, he leaned back and fell into deep thought. The initial rage brought upon by her words and rejection of his appearance filtered out of his system. The cigar helped with that. Everything was smoky now, a thick forest fog of tobacco in his mind. He knew it was uncharacteristic of himself to have a temper. After all, he was mostly good-natured and even-tempered if just left alone, if given his time out in the woods each night, if in the company of like-minded men.

But let a woman in his life... and everything fell through. He could not think straight, he had outbursts and hurled his things across the room. Perhaps he should have never even let Miss Bourne stay at all! That was what his mother and Mrs. Kensington and his family and countless others wanted. They wanted him and her to be friendly and amicable together so that they could marry and he could be human. And the only reason they wanted him to be human was so that they could more easily exploit him and his money and power. And he had fallen for it. He had fallen for all of their tricks just because Miss Bourne had shown an interest in him, whereas other women had not even dreamt of such a thing. It was the fact that she was kinder and more accepting than any other woman had ever been. She accepted that he was human when he wasn't.

But he wasn't about to be fooled by their tricks. He was going to stay a beast whether they liked it or not.

Beast crossed his arms, letting out a defiant "Hmph." He turned around in his study chair to face the window. Outside, some birds flew by and swooped down below, landing in the gardens. He leaned forward and caught a glimpse of the arch leading to the maze. A part of his heart sank.

He thought about her fiery red hair, almost the color of the sunset. And how her icy blue eyes glinted in the sunlight that broke through some branches of the shady oak tree.

He sighed. It wasn't her fault that she was swindled into this. It was all his mother's idea. She had practically used the girl. He furrowed his brows and thought deeply... In a way, both he and Miss Bourne were tricked into this.

Of course, he was foolish for believing she might accept him for him. His hopes were too high. And Chesterton was right. The Romantic in him had hoped for too much from a simple woman. But that did not mean she could not still be his acquaintance.

His brows unfurrowed and his eyes widened. He picked his head up and looked off into the clouds outside the window.

He wanted her to be his acquaintance... He wanted her to stay.

Beast put his palm up to his forehead. But she would never want to stay after how he had behaved the night before. He would have to apologize for his words and behavior if he ever wanted to show his face around her again.

"Chesterton," Beast called suddenly.

"What is it, Ashworth?"

"What drinks do you have?"

"Wine and brandy. Why?"

"I'm going to need them if I'm going to do what I think I'm about to do."

◜❦︎◞

Rose had cried herself to sleep the night before. She woke up with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, like she was empty again. Like something was missing in her life again.

Moments later, before she had time to gather herself, knocks sounded at the door.

"Come in," Rose groaned, turning on her side and pulling the covers over her head.

Lucy barged in. "'Ow'd the missus sleep?"

"Fair."

"Just fair?" Lucy came to the girl's side and sat down at the edge of the bed. "What's wrong? You can tell ole Lucy." She put her motherly hand on Rose's head and stroked her curls.

Rose pushed back the covers and looked up at the woman.

"Oh, dear!" Lucy cried. "Your eyes!"

"What is it?"

Rose bolted up out of bed and went straight to the mirror, preparing herself for the worst. When she looked at herself, she saw that her eyes were puffy and red from the night before.

"Oh..." Her shoulders slumped. "It's nothing, Lucy. Don't worry."

The woman was already halfway into the bathroom when she called: "Let me go get some warm water and rags."

Rose sat back down on the bed, her hands in her lap, her neck and head drooping forward.

Lucy shuffled back in. She set a bowl of water down on Rose's nightstand and wrung out a rag. The girl pulled back as the woman tried to bring the rag up to her eyes.

"I gotta fix you up, Miss Bourne! I want my missus lookin' 'er absolute best."

Rose complied and winced as the warm, wet rag pressed against the sore skin around her eyes.

"Now, tell me. What 'appened?"

"Nothing, Lucy."

"Were you cryin'?"

Rose's silence spoke for itself.

Lucy sighed and pulled the rag away from the girl's face. "I know a cryin' face when I see one. Now tell me. What upset you so? The Master?"

Rose nodded, squinting her eyes. She sucked in her breath to keep from crying again.

"I 'eard all of it. I'm very sorry that 'appened, Miss Bourne. 'E's usually not like that and I don't know what came over 'im."

"Was this the ungentlemanly side of him you spoke to me about?" Rose lifted her head, and her bright blue eyes stuck out, contrasted with the red puffiness surrounding them.

Lucy grimaced, sucking in her cheek. "I'm afraid it was, Miss Bourne. I just didn't think 'e would show it to you."

Rose leaned back on the headboard of the bed and brought her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs. "I don't even know what upset him so terribly." A single tear streaked down her splotchy red face. "I do not mind that he looks like a beast, and I told him that."

She remembered back to the night before. While his appearance was gruesome, she told herself that it was not the real him. That he was just under a spell or curse. But his animalistic snarl, the anger, and unearthliness in his shimmering green eyes, the fangs that protruded out of his lips... they told her otherwise. She tried not to think of what he could have done to her if he hadn't left before he got any more furious.

Lucy laid the rag down in the bowl of water before sitting beside Rose on the bed. She smelled of cleaning salts and Rose could feel the cool sweat on her arms. "I 'aven't been workin' 'ere for all that long, Miss Bourne, but—" she laid her hand on top of Rose's, "from what I've 'eard, 'Is Lordship is very... particular. 'E doesn't like for people to call 'im a 'uman."

Rose's thin brows knotted together. "I wonder why..."

"According to the rest of the staff, 'e believes that 'e's really, truly a beast. And 'e doesn't want anyone convincin' 'im otherwise. The only one that 'e tolerates is Mr. Chesterton because Mr. Chesterton accepts 'im as a monster."

Rose's eyes bugged out in defiance. "But Mr. Chesterton is such a fine gentleman! I can't imagine how he could view his own friend as a monster."

Lucy shrugged. "I only know what I know. You'll 'ave to ask the Master or Mr. Chesterton about that."

Rose lifted her face to the canopy above her. "I'm not sure I even want to see Lord Ashworth ever again."

Lucy gasped and laid a hand on Rose's. "You mean, you'll be wantin' to leave so soon?"

Rose put her face in her hands. "I don't know, Lucy... Truly, I don't want to leave. It's been so wonderful, but if my interactions with Lord Ashworth continue to be anything like they were last night…"

"I understand what you mean. Per'aps you should talk to 'im."

"After last night? Oh, I couldn't possibly!"

"Lord Ashworth is a understandin' man... for the most part. Give it a try." Lucy wrapped her motherly arm around Rose's petite shoulders.

"I'll think over it. Thank you, Lucy." Rose patted her lady's maid's shoulder.

"Of course, dearie." Lucy shuffled off the bed to the wardrobe. "Now, then, what shall we dress you in for the day?"

Rose felt herself sinking into the sheets, only wanting to remain in the comfort of the bed. A part of her wished that she was in her own bed back home, even if it was only half as luxurious as her canopy in the castle.

Lucy sifted through dresses in the cabinet. "Hmm?"

"Any will do," Rose said, hugging her knees to her chest. "Whatever you think would look best."

"Oh, everythin' looks the best on you, dear. Any drab ole dress would become a fine evening gown if'n you only wore it."

Rose smiled, looking down. She tried not to revel in the compliment—no matter how much she wanted to believe it was true for only a fleeting moment. She knew Lucy said such things only because she was her lady's maid, and that it was her job to make Rose more confident in herself.

As Lucy picked out a pale green and white dress, three knocks sounded on the door, followed by an old woman's voice:

"Mrs. Kensington. May I come in?"

"Oh– Erm… Of course!" Rose stammered, startled.

Lucy straightened up, making herself professional.

The door opened and Mrs. Kensington walked in. She glanced about. "Getting ready, are we?"

She always has to be so suspicious… Rose thought.

"Yes, ma'am," Lucy said, holding out the dress.

"Very good, very good." Mrs. Kensington clasped her hands together. "Then I presume it shan't take you long to get your bearings together and come to breakfast?"

Breakfast?

Rose looked at Lucy, who appeared just as baffled.

"You mean, I won't be taking it in my room this morning?" Rose asked.

A small smirk inched along the wrinkled, thin lips of the old woman. "No, not this morning. His Lordship has requested you join him for breakfast."

Rose gasped and she felt her chest tighten as her heart beat wildly. "Oh– Oh…"

"Is there a problem?" Mrs. Kensington said.

"No, no ma'am. Not at all." Rose brushed her loose curls back out of her face, running her hands through her hair.

"Good. I'll tell him you'll be down presently then." She shut the door.

Lucy waited until Mrs. Kensington was out of earshot, and the clickety-clacking sounds of her shoes disappeared down the halls. "Always so pertinent."

Rose started breathing heavily. "Oh, dear. Lucy, what could he want?" She put her face in her palms. "What if he tells me to leave? To pack my things immediately?"

Lucy's eyes flittered about the room, deep in thought. She laid the dress down on the end of the bed.

"I don't want to speak to him—not now when I'm so disheveled and out of sorts!"

"Miss Bourne, Miss Bourne," Lucy said, calming her down. "Listen to me."

"Yes?"

"Do you wanna stay in the castle?"

"Well, I suppose so, but— I just don't know if I can speak to him this morning. Not after last night. I don't know if he's going to apologize or expect me to apologize to him. Or if it's just going to be the end of things…"

"Just answer me, Miss Bourne. Do you wanna stay in the castle, yes or no?"

"Yes, I think I do, but—"

"Then we'll make it 'appen." Lucy marched over to the dresser drawer and dug around in the cabinets.

"How?" Rose pulled the covers up, overcome with dread.

Lucy pulled out a tube of lip paint from a drawer. "We're gonna give the Master a offer 'e can't refuse."

◜❦︎◞

Beast had already drank one splendid keg of wine—with due credit to his alcoholic friend, who insisted on having his own private stock in the wine cellar.

There was no denying he felt wonderful. The best he had felt in quite some time. The tension in his shoulders melted away, and all the troubles of the world lifted. He could hardly even remember why he was so upset at Miss Bourne in the first place.

I really should drink more often, Beast thought to himself.

He ushered his thoughts away as the door to the breakfast room creaked open.

"Master," Mrs. Kensington called, curtseying. "Miss Bourne will be with you shortly."

"Ah, thank you, Mrs. Kensington." It took all of the power within him to keep a straight face. Thankfully, the black veil covered his idiotic grin. But how he longed to burst out laughing for no reason at all.

Mrs. Kensington cocked a brow at him before exiting the room.

Suddenly, panic flooded him. Would he be able to keep it together in the presence of Miss Bourne? Would she be able to tell he was inebriated? Heavens, he hoped not.

It wasn't too much later that a servant opened the door and…

Was it even her? How had he not seen before that she truly was such a magnificent specimen? Something about her eyes was different, or had they always been that electrifying shade of blue? Perhaps it was her dreamy day dress—midnight blue, ocean green, with gold embellishments—that complimented and accentuated her eyes. Or maybe it was something else…

And her lips, his heart skipped a beat at her lips. They were a deep rose color.

Something was definitely different, but he could not tell what.

He shook his head. It's only the drink that's making me see her differently, he assured himself.

"Good morning, Miss Bourne," he said. "I didn't know a lady could look so elegant so early in the morning. That dress could almost be an evening gown."

"Good morning, Lord Ashworth." She curtsied, before taking the seat the servant had pulled out for her. "I always attempt to look my best, even in the early mornings. And especially in the presence of a baron."

He laughed, finding it hard to cut off the laugh before it lingered a little too long. "Well, I must say I'm flattered, but I hope that soon you'll find I'm not so much of an intimidating figure that you must dress to the nines in my presence. Let us become good, well-acquainted friends."

She seemed to smile, at least a little. "Yes, let's."

As their steaming meals were brought out fresh from the kitchen, Beast couldn't help but notice Miss Bourne twisting her head around, looking in every direction of the little round breakfast room.

"Is everything alright, Miss Bourne?" he queried.

She seemed caught off guard. "Oh, yes. It's just I've never been in here before. I usually take breakfast in my room. But it's so lovely and quaint."

"We should dine together more often in here then."

"Yes, we should." He couldn't tell if she was being sincere, or if it was just pleasantries.

"It's much more intimate than that long dining hall, don't you think? I actually prefer this space for private audiences," he commented as he cut into his meal.

"Really? I can see why, although I think I would prefer the dining hall for a private audience."

"Why?"

"It would provide more space for clear thoughts. I don't think I would feel as intimidated by the other person."

"Are you easily intimidated?"

"I try not to be, but I can't help that I was born with a rabbit heart." She spoke so softly.

"Interesting." He took a bite. "There's no need to be intimidated around me though."

"No, I suppose not."

He finished chewing. "A rabbit heart you say?"

"Yes, but what I lack in confidence I try to make up for in good judgment, and perhaps, a soft wit."

"We need more of that in the world, I should think." He hadn't thought about it before all that much, but in her own way, she could be witty. She was at least pleasant and interesting to converse with.

Surprisingly, he didn't feel all that intoxicated when speaking with her now.

"So, what was it you wanted to speak with me about?"

Ah, yes, now he remembered why he had gotten drunk in the first place.

He smiled, noticing how the thoughts in his head were floaty and light. The dark, angered thoughts from the night before and early this morning had sailed away.

"I'm glad you mentioned it, Miss Bourne. I wanted to speak with you about last night."

He couldn't fully tell, but it almost seemed like she flinched.

And then, without any forewarning, both of them simultaneously—Miss Bourne more nervous and high-pitched, and Beast more low and sincere—called out: "I want to apologize."

He caught her eyes through the veil and kept her gaze. Miss Bourne could not have been anything else but shocked, her eyes widened all the way—while Beast tried to keep himself together, but instead just let out a large belly laugh. His voice practically shook the small breakfast table.

In his booming voice, he shouted out, laughing, "Should you go first, or I?"

"P-perhaps, I should go first, if you need a moment to collect yourself." Her voice was so tiny and mousy compared to his.

"Oh, yes, of course, of course," he coughed and cleared his throat, attempting to collect himself. "Go right ahead."

She looked at him seriously, while he just continued with little hiccups of laughter every few seconds, not to mention the idiotic smile that he knew must have been on his face—thankfully, she wouldn't see that. He knew it must have been so embarrassing for her, but he honestly could not stop himself.

"Well, I, I suppose I—" She clasped her hands together in her lap, looking down. "I shouldn't have asked you to show yourself to me in the first place. It was out of place for me to do so, and I know it must have made you uncomfortable. I should not have been so eager to ask something so improper of you."

She made no eye contact with him, but part of him wished she would.

"That is quite alright, Miss Bourne," he said, hardly even remembering the previous night at all. "All is forgiven."

"More than that," she urged, glancing up for but a moment before lowering her head again, "I shouldn't have made such comments to you about what I think you are. I see now you are completely comfortable in who you are and I should not be the one to tell you otherwise, even if I disagree."

The night before suddenly came flooding back to him: "That is not who you truly are…" He felt a welt of anger and hurt rising up before the alcohol subdued it and he felt the wave of calm again.

"As I said, Miss Bourne," he smiled through his sharp teeth, "all is forgiven. Truthfully, I should not have been so forthcoming about my appearance. I should have gotten to know you better before revealing myself to you… I just thought…" He shook the words away. I just thought perhaps you'd be the one to understand.

"I sincerely appreciate that, Lord Ashworth," she said, looking at him again. The color returned to her cheeks.

"I hope one day you might be comfortable enough around me to tolerate me in my natural state. But I understand if that might be difficult for you and our relationship never quite reaches that point."

She looked down at her hands again. "Perhaps one day…"

He almost forgot. "I also apologize for snapping at you," he said hurriedly, as though if he didn't get the words out then, they would never get spoken. "I quite dislike it that you got to see that side of myself."

She remained motionless.

"I understand if you… do not wish to remain in my presence anymore, or at the estate in general, after my loss of self-control. But—I do wish you would stay."

Her eyes seemed to lift after that, the glow returning to them.

"I do enjoy being in your company, Miss Bourne." The most serious words he had spoken all morning.

"Likewise, Your Lordship."

It still seemed as though something was wrong. She was far too reserved.

"Is there anything else I can do to make your stay more comfortable?"

Rose looked out the window longingly. He knew instantly.

"I hadn't realized it until this morning, but—" she turned to look in at him, her eyes almost pleading, "I do miss my family."

His heart sank. "You wish to go home then?"

"No, no, not necessarily. I do miss my home to an extent, yes. I've never spent this much time away from it, but— I can do without that old house. It's my family I miss much more."

Beast thought for a moment, scratching his chin. "Would you want to arrange a visit with them? I would be open to that."

"You mean, them coming here?"

"Of course. Why not?"

It seemed the thought of a visit hadn't occurred to her, as her face lit up immediately—all her troubles washed away.

"Really? Oh, thank you, thank you!" Almost embarrassed at her slight outburst, Rose crept back into her shell. "I would greatly appreciate that, Your Lordship. That is such a kind gesture."

"Oh, of course," he said. "I should write a letter to your father later today then."

"That would be really wonderful." She beamed up at him. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome, Miss Bourne."

Although he was sincere, Beast couldn't help but wonder: Would that have gone any differently without the wine?