Beauty Reborn


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 © 2023 Elizabeth Lowham
 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, ­Shadow ­Mountain Publishing®, at ­[email protected]. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of ­Shadow ­Mountain Publishing.
 This is a work of fiction. Characters and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously.
 Visit us at shadowmountain.com
 Library of Congress ­Cataloging-­in-­Publication ­Data
 CIP on file
 ISBN 978-1-63993-106-4 | eISBN 978-1-64933-157-1 (eBook)
 Printed in the United States of America
 Lake Book Manufacturing, LLC, Melrose Park, IL
 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
 Book design: © Shadow Mountain
 Cover images ©Shutterstock/Ironika/Paprika/Havoc
 Author photo: Aubrey Nicole Photography
 Art direction: Richard Erickson
 Design: Sheryl Dickert Smith
 
 
 To Brady,
 who supports me in every book,in every thing, even the whimsy,always and forever.
 
 
 Contents 
 
 
 
 
 
 Prologue
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Chapter 3
 Chapter 4
 Chapter 5
 Chapter 6
 Chapter 7
 Chapter 8
 Chapter 9
 Chapter 10
 Chapter 11
 Chapter 12
 Chapter 13
 Chapter 14
 Chapter 15
 Chapter 16
 Chapter 17
 Chapter 18
 Chapter 19
 Epilogue
 Acknowledgments
 Discussion Questions
 About the Author
 
 
 Prologue 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 It’s true what the folktale says: I did choose to live with the beast. But not for the reason you think. Not to save my father. Not even to save myself.
 In truth, I was hoping I’d be eaten.
 Everything began with Stephan Galliford, who had a gleam in his gaze from the first moment he saw me, who bent low and kissed my hand and lingered. 
 Stephan asked me three times to marry him. Three times, I said no.
 After that, he didn’t ask.
 When the news came that Father was bankrupt and we had to sell all we possessed to pay our debts, my eldest sister, Astra, wailed in such a way it might have been the death of everyone she loved—if she loved anyone besides herself, that is. Callista and Rob were more reserved in their responses, though they also grieved the loss of the home and life they’d known. Father was silently broken, the echo of a man who went through every required motion though he no longer lifted his eyes from the ground.
 I alone was ungrieved. Astra hated me the more for it, but Callista said, “It’s wonderful, Beauty, that even in all this darkness, you can still find hope.”
 It was not hope; it was escape, albeit temporarily. But I did not correct her.
 While Astra wept over the loss of every embroidered gown and jeweled brooch, I assisted Father with the auction. I smiled at potential buyers and urgently chattered about why this painting was a necessity for a regal sitting room or how that riding habit was in most excellent fashion and taste. As a lady of society had once told me, chatter was my only true skill, and I employed it relentlessly while Father did all he could to recoup the debt incurred by the loss of his silk and his ships.
 Only one item at the auction gave me pause. I cradled it gently, ran my thumb along the curve of the base. I would have plucked one of the strings if not for my father’s glance just then. In his eyes, I saw the longing to allow me one relic, one testament to all that was gone. But relics could not be afforded—not when I’d already seen Astra tuck a necklace away—and my violin would sell for more than my wardrobe, so it was the only contribution I could make.
 Catching the attention of a lady I recognized, I said, “You’ve wanted your daughter to engage in a fine hobby. There is nothing so fine as music.”
 And the deed was done. She lifted the instrument out of my hands, leaving my fingers cold and exposed. I curled them into my palms, hugged my arms to my body, and resumed my chattering with more devotion than ever until the day was worn out, the auction done, and our once-warm house empty of soul.
 When I chattered in the same way during dinner that evening, Astra screamed at me to be silent. If not for Rob’s quick hand of restraint, she would have doused me with the wine from her cup.
 Father scolded her sharply. “Without Beauty, I’d have accomplished little these past days. What have your tears accomplished, Astra?”
 There was silence after that.
 I had managed to restrain my flinch, but still I trembled. Even though I had no desire to be alone, I excused myself before they could notice my weakness.
 Stephan did not come to the auction. I imagined the lord baron had not wanted his nephew and heir near a penniless, ruined girl, no matter how Stephan argued. The daughter of a wealthy merchant was one thing, but no future baron could leash himself to a peasant who would soon have to dig her fingernails in the dirt and grow calluses to survive.
 I prayed for a thousand calluses and twice that many nights without a glimpse of Stephan’s gleaming eyes.
 But I could not pray away the haunting memory.
 My father’s connection to another merchant secured us a new house on the far west side of town. It was barely a hut and so close to the wild forest’s border that no one had been able to use it. The land was untamable for trees, but tame it we would have to.
 “Easy to make a choice when there’s only one option on the table,” I joked. “Perhaps we shall be fortunate enough to be offered a second rickety hut, this one near a wicked fairy’s tower. Then our heads would truly spin.”
 Rob put a gentle