Beauty and the Werewolf

“Yes.”

“So you need one smart one to keep Eric from interfering or complaining to Sebastian.” She nodded. “How many of you can write?”

“Five. Sapphire, Thyme, Verte, two more.”

Probably just as well. That was already a higher rate of literacy than among the Beauchampses’ household, of whom only Housekeeper and Cook were able to read and write with any fluency. Another reason why Mathew wasn’t going to become Butler anytime soon.

“Which one of you is the Steward?” she asked, which was the next logical question. In a household the size of her own, generally the Housekeeper was in charge, unless there was a Butler. But in the enormous households of the nobility it was a loftier fellow, the Steward.

“?”

“Who is in charge of all of you?” she said, rephrasing her question.

“Eric.”

“And in charge of taking money and bringing things back?”

“Eric.”

And Eric was the only physical contact between Sebastian and the outside world. And now she began to think through the question she had raised with herself this morning: Who is managing all of this? There had to be someone who was making sure the estate was properly cared for — and at need the King’s own Chancellor of the Exchequer would see to it, if for no other reason than to make sure the Kingdom got the taxes. You didn’t get taxes out of a poorly managed estate.

Under normal cases, where there had been a Steward, the Steward would have dealt with the mines and the income from them, unless there was a separate factotum in the city that handled the commerce and merely kept the Ducal coffers filled, small as they were.

But Eric did not strike her as having that sort of education nor temperament.

So it made sense that there was someone, perhaps appointed by the King, that was in charge of those portions of the Ducal estate. That would be logical, actually, since income from the mines would be subject to a tax, and this way the King could be sure he got all of it. The only thing that the Steward would need to tend to, then, would be the household and the Home Farm. So Eric was functionally the Steward — which, after all, had more or less been what he was ever since the Old Duke died. She sucked on her lower lip for a bit. No real point in changing that. He couldn’t hurt these invisible creatures. The stupid ones wouldn’t respond to bullying, and the smart ones knew to avoid him.

“Is there a Home Farm?” she asked, realizing she had not asked that before.

“Yes.”

That explained where most of the food was from. Eric would oversee that, too, of course. “And are there more of you there?”

“No.”

Aha, so probably no one on the Home Farm knows or cares that the Duke is a werewolf. Probably just as well. “Does Eric spend much time there?”

“No.”

If farming wasn’t Eric’s expertise — and from everything she knew about him, she was pretty sure that she knew more about farming than he did — then the job was probably in the hands of the farmer who lived there.

Hmm. Eric spends a great deal of time in the city. At least in the evenings…

“Does Eric spend his nights away from here?” she asked.

“Often.”

Well, she couldn’t blame him. Being out here, so isolated, would be very difficult on someone who wasn’t as introspective as Sebastian. The city was so close that he could ride out and back again in the morning with no harm done. Except on the nights of the full moon, he wasn’t needed here. It wasn’t as if Sebastian needed a minder.

The more she thought about it, the more she began to feel some sympathy for Eric. It was bad enough to be a noble bastard; the most you could hope for was the sort of “Gamekeeper” position that he’d gotten. Well, unless you were in the household of someone who had his own private army or the like, then you could manage to become something like a Seneschal or Warlord.

I suspect Warlord would have suited Eric a great deal better.

But then to have ended up with what was essentially the job of legal Guardian and Steward without actually having the title and full authority?

It would grate on me. I don’t know about Eric, but it would have turned me sour. Probably the one thing that had kept Eric relatively civil was that Sebastian was so — likable.

Not that she was going to approve of how Eric had been bullying people, and trying to take advantage of any girl that looked vulnerable. But he had probably been brought up by some pretty rough people here — maybe the Duke’s Huntsmen, or his Head Groom, or a Bodyguard if he’d had one. Men like that were not generally known for their manners.

A child learns what he lives with.

She resolved to try to be a little nicer to the man, and see what happened. I can certainly use an ally with access to the city.

About then, her supper arrived in the invisible hands of Sapphire. She looked at the ribbon when the tray was set down. “I’d like you to hunt through the nursery and schoolroom and find some more slates and chalk,” she said. “I’d like the five of you who can write to each have your own.”