Page 7 of To Love a Beast

Strong? All right. She'd concede that point. But he was also stubborn, intrusive, and self-absorbed. If he were to march over to the stagecoach and lift it from the ground with one hand, she'd still not find him sigh-worthy.

After ensuring Mr. Batton didn't damage her second trunk, Callista left him to the admiration of Mrs. Dawson and escaped into the small staging inn. A lad of about sixteen or seventeen glanced up from a dime novel and scrambled to attention.

"Afternoon, miss," he greeted, quickly shoving his book beneath the counter. "How can I . . .?" His eyes widened and his jaw went a bit slack as she drew near. "Um . . . I . . . uh . . ."

Callista smiled at the clerk, hoping to put him at ease. How well she remembered the first time her papa had asked her to serve walk-in customers in their bindery shop. She'd been awkward too, stumbling over her words and wishing she could hide in the back with the books.

"Good afternoon. I just arrived on the stage, and I'm hoping you can offer me some direction." She smoothed the skirt of her sage green traveling dress, hoping he didn't notice the outdated style or the frayed places on her cuffs and hem.

She'd worn her best dress, understanding the importance of making a favorable first impression on Mr. Lightfoot and his employer, but four years of wear—even if only on Sundays and special occasions—were impossible to hide. Two days of travel, first by rail then by stage, had left a fine layer of silt on the wool as well, adding to the shabby appearance.

"I'd be happy to offer whatever help y-you need, ma'am." The clerk's face reddened as he spoke, and his voice cracked a bit in the middle of his pronouncement.

Callista nodded as if she noticed nothing amiss. "You're very kind. Thank you. I have a pair of heavy trunks that I placed inside your stable. I was hoping I might be allowed to store them here until someone can fetch them for me tomorrow." She couldn't afford to pay a driver to deliver them for her. She had to trust that Mr. Lightfoot would see to their acquisition after she arrived.

The young man's head bobbed up and down with such vigor his blond hair flopped onto his forehead and covered one of his eyes. "Your belongings will be safe with us. Although . . ." He gave a quick toss of his head to send his mane back where it belonged. "I could deliver them for you. I run errands for Pa's customers all the time. Where are you staying?"

"I've been employed by Mr. Lightfoot of Manticore Manor. I understand it's a fair distance from town. Are you familiar with it? I'll need some directions if I'm to arrive before dark."

Hopefully, it wasn't farther than four or five miles. Walking wasn't ideal, but it was economically necessary. It wouldn't be so bad, though. After being crammed in a stagecoach for the past six hours, stretching her legs sounded quite inviting. Besides, she'd get to see the country and would have plenty of time to plot out the arguments she could employ to convince Mr. Lightfoot to allow her to stay and fulfill the library contract. The sun wouldn't set for another three hours, most likely. Everything would be fine.

Or maybe not. The horrified expression on the clerk's face set off a twinge of alarm in her breast.

The clerk leaned over the counter and whispered in a hushed tone. "You can't go there, miss. It's not safe. The man that owns the place is an ugly beast with a violent temper. His dog is as big as a small horse and just as mean as his master. His jaws would snap your bones like that!" He snapped his fingers to demonstrate.

Callista flinched slightly but managed to hold on to her composure. "I appreciate your warning. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for the dog." And pray the animal's bark was worse than his bite.

"You still think to go?" The clerk reared back, his eyebrows arched like a pair of cocked bows. "I'm not telling tales, ma'am. I've seen the man and dog both with my own eyes. They'll eat you alive."

The local schoolchildren had likely built up an unrealistic mystique about the place, playing up the Manticore name with imaginary monsters. He'd probably been trespassing on the manor grounds when he'd caught a glimpse of someone and the excitement of the moment had flared his imagination. Boys tended to try to prove their courage in the most absurd ways. How many times had the boys in her class challenged each other to pat a longhorn on the rump without getting skewered or see who could hold their hand over a candle flame the longest?

"Well, that's a chance I'll just have to take." Callista straightened to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than that of the lanky youth in front of her. "I've accepted employment at the Manor, and I'll not renege on my promise to appear. Perhaps the dog will be chained in anticipation of my arrival." She could hope. "Now. Since you obviously know where the manor is . . ." She pulled a writing tablet from her travel bag, set it on the counter, and opened to a blank page. "Could you draw me a map of how to get there?"

He closed the pages of the tablet and pushed it back toward her. "No, ma'am. I can't in good conscience send you out there alone." He pushed back his bony shoulders and lifted his chin. "My daddy raised me to treat womenfolk with honor and to protect those who are weaker than myself. If you're set on going to Manticore Manor, I'll just have to escort you."

Considering how much he feared the place, it was quite a chivalrous offer. Her heart warmed toward the lad. "That is very kind of you, but I'm not able to pay for your time or transport. I'm happy to walk if you'll just point me in the right direction."

"I'll take you free of charge, ma'am. It's my duty as a gentleman."

Callista bit back a smile. It seemed she'd run into her own Sir Galahad. "Why don't you check with your parents? If they agree, I'll be most appreciative of your escort."

The young man's eyes lit, and a wide smile bloomed across his face. "Just have a seat for a few minutes, and I'll arrange things with my ma." He gestured to a small sitting area by the front window then disappeared through a side door.

What a sweet boy. The Lord truly had blessed her journey. She'd met Mrs. Dawson and her son at the train station in Denton and had been able to adopt them as travel companions all the way to Graham. And now the Lord had provided an escort to her destination.

Thank you.

Settling into one of the two chairs, Callista allowed herself to relax against the padded back then opened her bag to replace the writing tablet and retrieve her book. She'd covered this copy herself when Papa purchased the unbound sheets of Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde for her twenty-first birthday. She'd brought it as an example of her work, but she'd also brought it to have something that allowed her to feel close to her father. Not to mention that getting lost in a fantastical story was her favorite way to pass the time.

Swept away to London as she followed Poole and Mr. Utterson to Dr. Jekyll's residence on a hunt for truth, Callista let herself forget about foul-tempered men with terrifying dogs for a few blissful moments. Until the door next to her opened and Mr. Batton strode inside.

"Ah! Here you are, Miss Rosenfeld. I'd wondered where you'd gotten to."

Don't respond. Just ignore him. Perhaps he'll go away.

She continued staring at her book, even though she was no longer able to concentrate on the words.

Mr. Batton claimed the seat next to hers with a loud sigh. Callista grimaced. Why must he pester her so? Good manners dictated that she put down her book and acknowledge his presence, but self-preservation insisted that she keep her shield in place.