A/N: Hello again!

After numerous months of drafting points for the plot of this book, I have a solid enough idea to start publishing! Hooray!

As you may have figured out, this is the sequel to my story, Noble Sentiments. I've been looking forward to this book since I conceived it, so I cannot wait to write it! Fair warning though: Due to the fact that I am a recent college undergrad prepping for grad school, chapters may be few and far between. But know that when I have spare time (and spare energy... and brain capacity), I will be working to complete this!

I'm picking up a few months after its ending, but what had happened in-between the ending and the "present" of this book will eventually be revealed.

Another huge thanks to phoenixsoul13 for beta-ing!

Feedback is always welcome. I hope you enjoy!

Noble Intentions

Chapter One: Water under the Bridge

April, 1740

Gentle rain tapped rhythmically against the glass panes of le Château du Lac. Easter had come and passed. The château now empty again, its residents, royalty and servants alike, could take a well-deserved day of rest to recuperate from the festivities and events of Holy Week.

With this major point of focus gone, Lumière's mind became restless once more. Months had gone by: three and a half, almost four. Spring had arrived. Refreshing rain had swept in to wash away the memories of winter. The castle continued to be as bustling as ever. Easter had taken over a month of preparations, a task Lumière had wholeheartedly welcomed. With plenty to do, there was no time to think. With no time to think, there was no time to remember.

Lumière watched the rain patter lazily against his chamber window. Maybe it could not cleanse him while he remained inside.

He followed where his feet took him, the stables becoming his pinnacle of focus for the brief time it took to get there. As he entered them, the smell of straw tinged with soaked wood met his nostrils. The sound of the rain felt more soothing out here, and he allowed himself a deep breath of the clean air to absorb what he could of his surroundings.

He thoughtfully stepped to the edge of the stables, stopping at the blurry wall of ever-falling droplets as he let himself lean against a post. Staring out at pale grey clouds and evergreen trees in the distance, he thought about all of the time wasted—no… yes, wasted—contemplating all the memories of those several short weeks that still made him feel a rush of want and passion, that still made him regret and kick himself, and made him smile and laugh. Whenever he felt he was finally beginning to move on, the thought of her name or a flash of her face would dart across his mind, and he would have to resign to the fact that he was not ready. How much time did it take? How much time would he need? Each day this went on, he felt weaker, because if he was strong enough, this would all be behind him by now.

It was like he was suffering from a mental block, but of his heart. He did not feel anything the same as before. Not for his work, and not for women. Though he was eating the same diet as always, the taste was dulled. Colors appeared monochrome. When he wanted to really feel, he wasn't able, and he couldn't force himself to be. The passion he had felt for what he did had faded somehow. He knew it was there still. It had to be. But how could he access that part of himself again when he did not know how?

He had failed on his own to overcome this heartache, despite having suffered from a broken heart before. But none of those previous were of this magnitude, he realized. Still, no matter how much he spoke of his problem to those he trusted, like Mrs. Potts or Angélique, their advice and comforting words could not cure him.

What was it then? Was he holding himself back? Still hoping that it was possible? That she would spurn her title and return to him? No, because that would be ridiculous. He would not even approve of those actions, because that would mean she had abandoned her family and bloodline, along with her duties as a future countess. There were plenty of things he would do for love, but there was a line—

Wait, love?

At this point, Lumière did not know what it was: love or an obsession with a ghost. It had been so long since she had left that what he imagined could be the compilation of what he believed her to be, which was everything he could want in a woman. She was now a figment of his love-addled mind, a fantasy that could bring him no tangible joy in the present or his future.

It was time. It was more than the right time.

Withdrawing a hand from his pocket, he timidly immersed it in the rain, letting the drops fall and trickle off of his palm. Taking another full breath of the world around him, he brought out his other hand, cupping the water until it overflowed and then splashing it on his face.

It was cold and crisp but it felt renewing. Perhaps not as significant or potent as a baptism, but it was a kind of cleansing that left him feeling as though he could truly start fresh, and go back to living in the present like he had always done.

He wiped the excess water from his eyes and chin, shaking it off of his fingers. Heading to return inside, he spotted the burly, chestnut stallion looking over at him curiously. A gloved hand petted his nose, and a pair of light blue eyes over scarlet lips turned to face him.

Lumière shook his head, furiously using his sleeve to mop his face dry. Opening his eyes, the vision was gone. The stallion huffed and nodded at him as though to say, What's the matter with you?

The maître d' raised an eyebrow at the horse, rather peeved at himself. Don't ask.

The stallion stared after him as he strode back into the château while the tip-tapping of the rain continued to create music on the stable roof.

"Do not utter a word," Cogsworth made sure to order, approaching Lumière at his full height.

Lumière was at a loss for words to begin with. After the nobles had left on Christmas Day, he had just entered the library in the hopes of finding seclusion only to find he had been in pursuit by none other than Cogsworth. Not to mention this was the fiercest the majordomo had ever appeared.

"Lumière," he began, his voice low. "I have managed this household for six years, and before that, I was Her Majesty's head of affairs for five. For eleven years, I have put in all of my efforts into this regime to make my Queen and King's lives as blissful and easy as is within my power; all of the servants here are under my meticulous supervision, just as the counts and barons of the province are under Their Majesties." His eyes bore down on the maître d'. "There was one girl—one—that was under both mine and Their Majesties' protection. One girl that was within your reach yet you had no right to. In all of my days, in England and France, this is by far, the most intolerable and disrespectful transgression I have ever had the misfortune of being in authority over." A threatening finger was pointed at Lumière's heart. "You will be reprimanded for this."

Over the course of Cogsworth's speech, Lumière was stunned at not only the majordomo's words, but the deadly expression he wore. He had never seen him so furious. But at the mention of Babette, whatever anger Cogsworth felt was matched.

"Fine!" Lumière cried, letting his vexation overflow. "Tie me to the post and give me forty lashes! Or hook me to a wagon and let the horse drag me through the mud all the way to Paris. Oh! I know: Use the Christmas trees to make a crucifix! Whatever punishment you deem worthy could not be worse than what I now feel."

"Oh, you melodramatic, selfish ninny!" Cogsworth exclaimed, his volume rising. "This isn't about you! It never was! All she had to do was live and work here, as her parents bid me, and you couldn't keep your womanizing nose out of her business! I told you, Lumière, I told you specifically and in crystal clear terms that she was an aristocrat! A daughter of a count! Only a cad would continue to pursue a woman far out of his league, in breeding and decency—!"

Lumière burst out laughing. Was he really having this conversation? "Do you think that never occurred to me? That I chose to feel this way? Of course, she was above me! She is a goddess compared to what I am."

His flushed face almost a shade of purple, Cogsworth bellowed, "Then what were you thinking?"

The words caught in his throat. Lumière turned away, running his hands through his hair agitatedly and straightening his vest, anything to keep his hands busy and distracted. The truth, that he could love her, hit him like a sucker punch to the stomach.

Cogsworth glared at the pacing maître d', eyes narrowing. "Exactly as I suspected: Nothing."

Lumière turned on him, staring daggers. "Excuse me?"

"As you've shown time and again, you think nothing of the consequences of your actions, ever since you set foot in this castle! With all that you've done, I certainly have the grounds to dismiss you permanently."

Lumière's glare waned, the severity of this argument finally coming upon him. "You would... dismiss me?"

Cogsworth briefly glanced away, but overcame his hesitation. "Despite your work in the kitchens, this can outweigh it all. You did more than disrespect me, Lumière. You disrespected the Chantemerle, not only at the ball, but this morning, keeping Babette from leaving!"

He couldn't let Cogsworth make him feel guilty for his feelings, not more than he already did. Passion reigniting, he voiced, "If you could even begin to comprehend the dearest affection I have for her—"

The library's door opened, and both servants swiveled their heads to it and froze.

"Your Majesty," they acknowledged in unison.

"Gentlemen," Queen Beatrice replied, entering the library carefully as she sensed the tension that vibrated between them. She smiled as both relaxed their clenched fists and fighting stances to bow respectfully. "What seems to be the trouble?"

Before Lumière could get a word in edgewise, Cogsworth stepped forward. "Your Highness, I hope we did not disturb you. I recognize that perhaps our… argument was not at an appropriate volume, and I first wish to beg your pardon on my carelessness."

"Of course, Cogsworth, there was no harm in it," the Queen pardoned with fondness.

"Thank you, Mistress," he said with an inclination of his head. "Now, to the trouble that you had addressed, I can point no further than to this man." And he aimed a finger in Lumière's direction.

"Wait!" the maître d' blurted. This misunderstanding had to end before a livelihood was ended, and frankly, Lumière couldn't bear to lose the only part of himself he had left. "Please, Your Majesty, I know I cannot undo what's been done, but I implore you to sympathize—"

"Lumière," the Queen interrupting, but not unkindly. With keen eyes, she nodded to him. "If you could excuse us, I believe you deserve some rest after the trying holiday you've had."

Though hesitant and fearful, Lumière consented humbly, "As you command, ma reine."

As he took his leave, the Queen gave him a subtle wink before he passed her.

"Lumière."

He looked up to find Angélique had been walking in stride with him trying to get his attention.

She smiled at his quizzical expression. "Still living in your mind, are we?" He rolled his eyes, but she added, "Honestly, I never knew you were capable of being this pensive."

Though he glared, a flicker of a smile was visible. "To what do I owe this particular pleasure, Angélique?"

She observed his façade for a moment. His hands were clasped professionally behind his back, and he walked as tall and straight as was characteristic of him, which was a large improvement from several weeks ago. His face even seemed relaxed, yet there was still that contemplative line set between his eyebrows. The eyes were the telling feature, and his grey ones still lacked the same alertness and sparkle that she had known him to always possess. I hope this will help him…

Angélique cleared her throat nonchalantly. "I have not been to check on you recently, with all that went on to prepare for Easter…" She glanced up for any physical responses. "How are you?"

The maître d' shrugged. "As well as I can be." Noticing that she seemed to be treading on eggshells, he glanced sideways at her, inquiring, "Would there be a specific reason for you to ask?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Other than the fact that you were practically sleep-walking a moment ago?"

Trying to restrain any indignation, he defended, "What else can you expect? This holiday took all of the energy I could spare."

"Oh, of course. I do not doubt that," she agreed knowingly. "It has been unending chaos around here, hasn't it? I could barely read a page of my novel until yesterday."

"You have let a book gather dust on your nightstand?" he inquired with teasing awe. "I can hardly imagine!"

Despite herself, Angélique laughed a little with him, but then sighed, deciding to be straightforward. "All right, look… I know you are getting better, and it shows, but I can tell that you are still not… quite there yet." Empathy was imminent in her bright blue eyes. "She is still on your mind."

Lumière fought back an exasperated retort. His impulse was to become defensive, but he knew he shouldn't be upset with her for bringing about the subject again, as tired as he was of it. She was only trying to help. Instead, he was angrier with himself for the fact that her words rang true.

After swallowing his bitter reply, he managed calmly, "I am well aware." He forced himself to look her in the eye. "What would you suggest?"

"Well…" She came to a halt, and Lumière followed her eyes to the polished mahogany door of Cogsworth's study. "He might have something that could give you that little push," she concluded, smiling assuredly. A skeptical glance prompted her to place an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "Trust me; it'll be a pleasant surprise."

"Perhaps you should go before you raise my expectations," he advised with his classic smirk.

Happy to see a glimpse at his old self, Angélique imparted, "You won't be disappointed," before, with a twirl of her periwinkle blue skirt, she was running off to another errand.

Turning to the majordomo's door, Lumière felt himself stumped at what Cogsworth could possibly have to make his situation any easier. It certainly wouldn't be advice. Cogsworth had avoided having any handle on what Lumière had been going through, for multiple reasons.

The majordomo had never liked to involve himself in the private lives of his staff, especially Lumière's. He was a strictly professional man, but he was indeed capable of caring a great deal for others, most notably King Vincent and Queen Beatrice. It was even pointed out by some servants that had witnessed it that he had some affection for the Prince as well. But when it came to romantic relations… No one knew a thing. Did he ever have a love in his life, other than his work? Being as conservative as he was, the very insinuation of a man and a woman together caused the instinct of fleeing to ignite in the head of the household, at least from Lumière's perspective. There was a sincerity in his curiosity of the logic behind Cogsworth's attitude towards romance, but he had never taken enough time to come to any conclusions. Either way, Lumière's "gallivanting" was a topic that Cogsworth obviously hated addressing.

Also, it had been ages since they had quarreled over Lumière's bad habits or Cogsworth's totalitarianism. Frankly, they had hardly spoken since their biggest fight. After the Queen had intervened, and prevented Lumière from saying something he would have ended up regretting, he could only imagine she had spoken for him on his behalf, for there was not another mention of Christmas Eve again.

Never one to hold a grudge, Lumière had let those feelings on the fight go a long time ago, but it still wasn't discernible if Cogsworth had done the same. Hopefully, upon entrance, the air would have been cleared.

Lumière had his knuckles raised to knock, but thought better of it. With a sly smile, he gripped the door frame, turned the brass knob, and swung in on it.

"Bonjour, Cogsworth!" he greeted boisterously.

As was the desired effect, the majordomo did a startled hop in his comfy leather armchair, his elbow knocking the stacks of acknowledgments to flutter and fall to the floor and across his desk. He managed to save those that had almost landed in the melted wax for the seals and the flame heating it with reflexes Lumière had never fathomed he possessed.

As the majordomo was regaining his breath, Lumière enjoyed the stunned, wide-eyed expression on Cogsworth's face for another second before he closed the door behind him. "I was told by une petite ange that you may have something for me."

"Oh…" Cogsworth groaned as he lowered himself into his chair, still in disbelief at the mess around him.

The maître d' gave a sympathetic sigh. Despite Cogsworth's astounding perseverance in his work, he was not immune to exhaustion. "Here, allow me."

The majordomo didn't object, but massaged his forehead while Lumière retrieved the letters from the floor, lining them in his hands like decks of cards. As he placed the last set on the desk, Lumière sat down in the hard-backed chair across from it, flashing Cogsworth a dazzling grin when he finally looked up. He only stared blankly at him, and the maître d' decided to fairly yield, "My apologies, mon ami. You know, of course, I meant no harm in it."

With the eye roll Lumière was waiting on, Cogsworth replied sarcastically, "No, of course not. What harm are a few heart palpitations to someone in my position?" Determined to get to business, he reached into his left desk drawer and pulled out a letter. "This arrived in the post this morning."

At a single glance, Lumière recognized the insignia on the wax immediately. Eagerly, he popped the seal and quickly skimmed the familiar handwriting:

Lumière,

I know it was only since your last birthday that you came to La Bazolle for a brief visit, but I must ask you for another, if at all possible. It is of the utmost importance because, if you can believe it, I am engaged.

We have been courting for the past few months, under the strict supervision of both of our parents. You can imagine what our parlor conversations are like, but when we are alone… She is the most charming girl. Witty, fun, intelligent, well-versed, and beautiful, above all.

You must come meet her. I am sure you would adore her as much as I have come to, and I would prefer an acquaintance be made between you before the wedding ceremony. Do not worry, a date has not been established, but at the rate of how well things are going, it is bound to be soon.

Of all the favors I will ask of you, please let this be the one you accept. Heaven knows the debt amounted from the times I lied, charmed, and smuggled on your behalf. I know you have not forgotten.

Send a reply as soon as you are granted permission to leave, or otherwise.

I hope to see you soon, my friend.

All the very best,

Nicolas

Oh, Nicolas, you are a godsend, Lumière mentally thanked. This was just what he needed: to get out of the château for a while and unwind with his oldest friend. Why had he not thought to do it before? Not only was it an ingenious idea, but it was perfect timing. Easter was the last major event of the season, and there was nothing scheduled to occur until the summer.

"Cogsworth," Lumière addressed, finding he had returned to sealing letters as though the maître d' did not exist. "I would like to request leave to visit Nicolas de Créquy for three weeks."

"Done," was the majordomo's immediate reply with not even a hint of a glance in his direction.

"Excellent," Lumière said with a smile as he rose to leave. There were normally questions and reminders involved when he asked permission to visit Nicolas, but he and Cogsworth had gone through this procedure enough where it hardly seemed necessary. Then again, Cogsworth might not even have the patience at this moment.

But at the door, Cogsworth did stop him. "You said 'three weeks'?"

"Oui, if you find no trouble in it," he confirmed casually, half-expecting a problem to arise.

His attention already receding, he assured, "No, only make the proper arrangements with Louis and Mrs. Potts for that duration, nothing you don't already know."

Did Cogsworth finally have a pinch of confidence in Lumière's memory? "Of course," he answered, trying to hide his awe and not comment on the phenomenon. Something was bound to ruin it, so he made sure to ask, "Would there be… anything else?"

"No, that will be all."

Well, that cannot be right.

If it had been clear their mutual aggravation of each other was all that was causing Cogsworth's ignoring, Lumière would have contently been out of his office minutes ago. But it actually bothered him to not know where the two of them stood.

The majordomo eyed him as Lumière continued to stand in the doorway, brow furrowing. "What are you still doing here?"

Baffled at his own feelings, he responded slowly, "I am asking myself that same question."

"Well, there are much better locations to answer it than in my doorway," Cogsworth recommended, his efforts to keep his chagrin from showing barely obvious. "If you don't mind conducting yourself elsewhere."

But Lumière couldn't move, and hoped he did not regret bringing up the matter. "Cogsworth?"

The majordomo breathed an exhausted sigh, but the usual struggle to maintain his patience with him did not seem to be the cause. "Yes, Lumière?"

The maître d' moved back into the room. Cogsworth's composure was starting to disturb him. "I understand that… we have hardly spoken since… the end of the year." At this, Cogsworth gave him his undivided attention, however emotionless. "But, I would like to believe that particular… disagreement is behind us." When Cogsworth's eyes shifted in contemplation, Lumière prompted, "Is that not the case?"

Appearing to concede to something, Cogsworth gestured to the wooden chair. "Have a seat, Lumière."

Though very hesitant, he followed his order, eyeing Cogsworth with uncertain curiosity.

The head of the household brought his laced fingers to his mouth as he stared at the wood grain of the desk, considering how to begin. "You, of course, recall Her Grace… intervening our… disagreement."

Lumière nodded, and Cogsworth resumed, taking his hands from his chin as his eyes followed them, "Well, after you left the vicinity… she explained to me that… there was, in fact, a proper reason… that is, your intentions were indeed noble when it came to… her."

Even though Cogsworth was avoiding his eye, and his discomfort was evident, Lumière could not help become a bit dumbfounded. Could the majordomo possibly have concern for him?

Cogsworth had taken a brief second to glance at Lumière, because they both knew what he implied by "her." Seeing that this caused no negative effect, he pushed on, "The Queen suggested I be… a little more lenient and impartial to your cause." He finally looked him in the eye. "With more of the benevolence and mercy than is unique to her position, she vouched for you. And I hope to her esteemed credit that it was not in vain."

Though in a daze, this statement caught his attention. "What are you saying? That I—?"

"Tell me honestly," he cut in, his usual authoritative tone returning. "Did you care for her?"

Lumière was startled at the question, more so from the fact that it was coming from Cogsworth. "Did I… yes! More than I can say. Or should say, rather."

Craving more clarification to justify both of their actions, Cogsworth had to ask, "Did you love her?"

Lumière stared back, frozen at his words, the words he had mulled over more times than he could count that only resulted in the same inadequate answer. They felt overused and dull speaking them aloud. "I don't know."

At how Cogsworth pursed his lips, Lumière dropped his eyes. He knew deep down he had not quite deserved the Queen's favor. And Cogsworth had every right to dismiss him permanently from the château for the extremity of his disobedience.

"Lumière."

Resigned to his fate, he faced the majordomo, but he instead found a look of sympathy on his features. "Perhaps that is best," Cogsworth said.

From Cogsworth's knowledgeable gaze, the urge to ask came upon him, but Lumière put it aside. The enigma of Cogsworth's past love would have to remain just that for now.

"I do commend you for the resilience in your work after… everything occurred," Cogsworth resumed. "But I've been observant of you enough to notice it has not been the same, and frankly…" Cogsworth began to feel awkward again. "… it's been… rather disconcerting."

A smile started to grow on Lumière's face. He crossed his arms, his interest piqued. "Really?"

Cogsworth seemed to pout, but gave in, saying, "Yes. To my amazement, I actually… missed your ridiculous enthusiasm. You so often exuded it that without it, it felt… draining to be around you." At Lumière's surprised expression, he inquired, "Didn't anyone inform you of this?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head as he thought back. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts the majority of the time he had hardly given notice to how his staff might be concerned for him. "It seems that… they were afraid to make me aware of it."

"Well, you seem in slightly better spirits since I had seen you last," Cogsworth concluded, silently referring to Lumière's entrance. "I am—" But then he stopped himself, shaking his head at the horrible notion of it almost escaping his lips.

But Lumière was not about to let him off so easily. With a huge grin, he exclaimed, "Admit it, mon ami, you are happy to see me in better spirits! Come now, no need to be ashamed!" Though Cogsworth looked more irritated than anything else as Lumière patted him on the back.

Then an idea came to Lumière, and he mischievously wrapped his arm around Cogsworth's shoulders in a kind of camaraderie, while Cogsworth glared at him with distaste. "This is indeed an extraordinary revelation, Cogsworth. I might shout it from the highest tower so everyone in the château can hear of how you are positively elated that your most esteemed colleague…" Lumière glanced sideways at him and winked. "… is returning to his old tricks and tomfoolery!"

"You wouldn't dare," Cogsworth snapped coolly.

"Oh, you know I would, mon cher ami," the maître d' assured. "But… because I am touched by your affection for me, I will provide another option." He let go of Cogsworth, who seemed incredibly relieved at his release, and came to stand in front of his desk as he offered, "Your confession will not leave this room on my account if, and only if, you say with your own lips that you are glad to have me back."

"I certainly am not now," the majordomo muttered bitterly.

Flashing another smile, Lumière teasingly added, "Do not be modest! I have the most complete confidence in you!"

Cogsworth continued to silently glare daggers, inciting Lumière to say, "I am sure you would like to return to your business of sealing letters, but when I leave depends on you. It is only a few simple words."

Regretting this entire conversation, Cogsworth heaved a sigh. "Lumière."

"Yes?" he answered, trying his best not to laugh.

Sitting straight in his chair, Cogsworth met Lumière's gaze and said as professionally as was possible of him, "I am… glad to have you back."

Lumière held his hand to his heart, acting deeply moved. "Oh, monsieur! I had no idea the extent of your regard for me! Merci a thousand times over! And to think that the rest of the staff here will never know that you possess a beating heart." He sighed and shook his head as though disappointed. "It truly is a shame, mon ami."

As he lacked the energy to provide a decent comeback, Cogsworth realized he would most likely never understand why the maître d' enjoyed teasing him so incessantly, but he decided to shelf it as one of his life's great mysteries, at least for the time being. With forehead in hand, he asked tiredly, "How soon can you leave?"

Allowing his dramatization to fade, Lumière responded pleasantly, "By the day after tomorrow."

"Good." As he returned to sealing his acknowledgements, Lumière went for the door. With a foot out of the study, Cogsworth called once more, "Lumière?"

He glanced back with interest to find Cogsworth baring that all-knowing stare as before.

"Make ample use of it," Cogsworth advised sternly.

Slightly taken aback at this, Lumière nodded. "I plan to."