When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  “But where is Lord Ailesbury going?” Adeline demanded, giving Maxwell a solid shake.

  “He and the others be go’n ta lift the wall from the man.”

  Then Maxwell pulled from her grasp and hurried to follow Mrs. Hutchins in her search for the Faversham butler.

  Emily wailed, falling into Cook’s waiting arms as the portly woman patted the maid’s back. She cooed her reassurances that all would be fine. Lord Ailesbury would save her husband; she was certain of it.

  It gave Adeline enough time to slip out the door and run toward the stables. With any luck, her mare would still be saddled, and she’d be on her way long before anyone noticed she was gone. Luck was on her side when she pushed through the downpour of rain into the stables. Everyone was in motion, stable hands and servants saddling every available horse for the journey to the plant. She knew the place they spoke of as it was not far beyond the wooded area she and the earl had hunted in. It was the large building she’d seen from her bedchamber window when the lightning struck, illuminating the intimidating facade in the distance, as Mrs. Hutchins had informed her.

  Her mare stood, tied to a post, to the left of her damaged carriage.

  Glancing around, Adeline searched for a box or stepping stone to help her up into the sidesaddle without requiring assistance from one of the servants. Any of them would likely demand she remain at the Abbey, and she could not risk that.

  Adeline could be of use at the plant, especially since the servants were still rushing about, readying horses. If she were there quickly enough, her assistance could prove useful. Her mare was saddled and prepared to depart immediately.

  A small wooden box stood along the far wall behind where the mare was tied. Adeline rushed over and peeked inside.

  Oats and grains for the livestock, but it was only a third of the way full.

  She braced herself and pushed the box, nearly falling to her knees when the thing slid across the hard-packed dirt with ease. Once in place, she leapt onto it and into her saddle. The mare skidded sideways, unprepared for her weight, and Adeline was able to untie the reins. She pulled the horse around and followed the same path Lord Ailesbury had taken out of the stables and then she turned sharply. Kicking her horse into a run, Adeline reached the meadow, but Ailesbury was already out of sight. The gunpowder plant lay to the north of the woods, only a short ride away, yet the drowning rain and unrelenting gusts pounded her face. The wind wildly caught her hair as the cord Lord Ailesbury had given her loosened and disappeared in her wake.

  The storm thundered overhead, and the rain began to soak clear through her thick riding habit, yet Adeline pushed on, finally arriving at a road. She rubbed the rain from her eyes, certain the area was familiar. It was the road her carriage had been stranded on. The large structure, not far from that point, would have been hidden by the darkness the night before.

  As she grew ever closer, the building appeared abandoned—a relic of past times when the war demanded production of gunpowder and explosives at an alarming rate. Adeline knew of the plant only because Miss Emmeline’s father had gained employment at Home Works while the British fought valiantly to vanquish Napoleon. Now, the structure appeared aged and weathered, half shielded by a grove of trees.

  Adeline nestled her face against the mare’s neck, shielding herself from the worst of the storm as the road curved, leading her into a large area of open ground. A gathering of people, clustered about a small outbuilding attached to the main plant, had Adeline pulling her horse to a stop.

  Her pulse drummed in her head as she slid to the muddy ground.

  No one noticed her arrival as she ran toward the crowd, pushing her way to the front. The sheer number of people gathered made her think the entire village had come. The able-bodied men, with Lord Ailesbury in their midst, attempted to lift a large piece of wood. Even from her vantage point, Adeline noted that the heavy wall would not budge, no matter how much the group strained.

  Adeline glanced to the people surrounding her, their torches held high, all fighting to remain lit, and marveled at the community’s dedication. In her experience, it was peculiar for a man to even so much as pause to help another in trouble, let alone an entire village braving a tempest with ferocious winds and penetrating, ice-cold rain to do so. Everyone stood in muted silence as the men struggled to get to the man trapped beneath the fallen wood free.

  Every grunt from the men, the soft crying of a child in the crowd, and the uneasy neighing of her horse echoed in her head as Adeline stood motionless. She’d been senseless to think she could help Ailesbury in any way. Her chest tightened in pain as a man slipped, his feet sinking into the mud as his side of the wooden wall fell.

  “I canna believe the Beast of Faversham allowed such a thing ta happen—and ta Grovedale. It is a fair shame, it is,” an elderly woman hissed to another woman next to Adeline. “If that not be grave enough, the man stalks the plant, push’n the men ta work e’er harder.”

  “Ye cannot be blame’n the Beast for this. He could not know what was ta happen.” The woman pulled the crying toddler into her arms as they fell back into silence while they watched the rescue efforts.

  The Beast of Faversham?

  They could not be speaking of Lord Ailesbury. Sure, his body was marred, but that did not mean his soul was corrupted, as well. The earl was present…just as all the villagers were, putting forth his best effort to extract Grovedale from beneath the wood that trapped him.

  “Must be awfully terrify’n for the lord,” another whispered on Adeline’s other side, but she did not remove her stare from the men before her. “The tragedy of lose’n his ma and pa in that fire, and now another—”

  “It not be the same at all, Louisa,” a man argued. “That fire kilt not only his sires but his servants and horses, too. The Beast be blessed ta have escaped with his life, scars or no.”

  Adeline focused on Lord Ailesbury, his voice rising above the din of the storm, calling for the men to work together. He’d removed his coat at some point, and the muscles of his broad shoulders flexed against the thin linen shirt he wore, wet and sticking to his back. The tendons in his neck strained as the group lifted again. His raw, unrestrained strength was utterly captivating.

  With a collective grunt, the men heaved again, but only Lord Ailesbury’s side moved, revealing a two-foot gap.

  “Rathers!” Ailesbury shouted through gritted teeth. “Pull him free.”

  A young man, certainly a year or two younger than Adeline, crawled through the mud and slipped his hand under the wood. When Rathers yelled, two men stepped forward and pulled the young man back by his feet.

  “Hurry.” Ailesbury strained to hold the wooden wall up, his knuckles turning white and his eyes closed tightly as he concentrated. He could drop the wall and forever trap the man beneath. Adeline had never felt an ounce of the terror that surged through her in that moment.

  Very likely, she’d never forget it.

  A cheer erupted when the trapped man slid out behind Rathers, their hands clasped tightly.

  Lord Ailesbury had saved the day!

  The men dropped the wall, the wood letting out a groan as it settled into the muck created by the rain.

  Adeline had been so intent on the scene before her, she hadn’t realized her entire body trembled from the cold.

  Men knelt around the injured man, but the earl remained separate from the crowd, pushing forward to congratulate the villagers who’d helped rescue Grovedale. Oddly, no one went to thank Lord Ailesbury, or so much as even looked in his direction to ask about his condition. The vast width and thickness of the wooden wall told Adeline it was heavy, indeed. If it weren’t for the earl, Grovedale might have perished in the mud beneath.

  Finally, Ailesbury turned toward the villagers but made no move to join them.

  A little boy shrank back and began to cry when he saw the earl watching the group as they huddled around Grovedale. The boy’s mother pulled the lad close and shushed him.

  S
everal townsfolk cast nervous glances in the earl’s direction before turning away, as if afraid to be caught gawking.

  But then, a young girl escaped a woman’s hold and rushed to Ailesbury—casting her thin arms about his legs. Adeline was too removed to note the girl’s words but her beaming smile was enough.

  Ailesbury responding frown also spoke volumes as the woman hurried over to collect the child, careful to keep her eyes trained on the ground and never meeting Lord Ailesbury’s intense stare.

  The realization struck Adeline then: the villagers were terrified of Lord Ailesbury.

  But, why?

  Adeline had no time to consider the question because the earl scanned the crowd, his glare stopping on her.

  In that moment, she wondered if it wouldn’t have been wiser for her to fear Lord Ailesbury, as well—perhaps just a bit.

  He cast a fearsome picture as he skirted the villagers and stomped in her direction, his narrowed glare keeping her rooted to where she stood.

  Chapter 10

  JASPER DIDN’T NOTICE the milling crowd who shrank away as he stalked toward the woman. He didn’t pay any mind to the driving, bone-chilling rain that assaulted his face. He didn’t so much as flinch when another thunderous boom shook the ground beneath his waterlogged Hessians.

  In fact, the only thing Jasper saw was red.

  Anger. Fury. All-out rage!

  The hue that threatened to completely take over his vision was similar in shade to the color of Miss Adeline’s riding habit…his mother’s riding habit, the garment she’d worn on the morning of the day she passed in the stable fire—along with his father, their steward, and several other servants. Yet, in that moment, the habit was soaked clean through, darkening the material to a near onyx hue. Jasper had a difficult time comprehending the sheer weight of the gown as it hung on Miss Adeline.

  Nevertheless, he held no compassion for her current circumstances: wet, cold, and shivering.

  The bloody woman still held her head high, not an ounce of panic as he stalked toward her. People he’d known his entire life scattered when he walked toward them, even with a smile on his face; however, Miss Adeline stood her ground…and smiled at him!

  It was unfathomable she’d remained alive long enough to stumble upon Faversham Abbey. She had no notion of the danger she’d put herself in being at the plant, in this storm, surrounded by the villagers.

  Or perchance it was Jasper who did not seek to subject her to the idle chatter of Faversham proper.

  Either way, the closer he got to her, the more his irritation spiked, and the quicker the villagers dispersed until only a handful remained.

  “What are you doing out here in the storm?” he barked over the sound of the growing tempest, now fully upon them. “You will catch your death.”

  She ignored his question; instead, she stepped forward and clasped his forearms. “You were magnificent, Lord Ailesbury,” she commended, a new light filling her hazel eyes until they fairly glowed in the darkness. “The man, Emily’s husband, certainly would have been crushed without your help.”

  “I asked what you are doing here.” He paused, sucking in a deep breath, only to have it exhale in a rush. “It is not safe.”

  “Not safe?” A haze of confusion clouded her stare. “You worry about my safety, my lord. What of yours? You are the one who rushed into a collapsed building to single-handedly lift an entire wall off a trapped man with no regard for your own well-being.”

  “I did not single-handedly—“ His words cut short when her brow rose as if challenging him to deny his own bravery, or dispute the outcome of this night had he not come immediately. “It matters naught who helped and who didn’t, this is my plant. I am responsible for everyone who dedicates their time to its success.”

  “Come now.” She shook her head, rain dripping down her face, plastering her long locks to her cheeks and neck. “That was about far more than mere responsibility.”

  Would he admit the overwhelming need to save Grovedale, his deep-rooted need to make certain the tragedy that’d taken his own parents did not happen to one of his servants? He’d been a young boy, but their death had altered his life in ways a child couldn’t understand. But to lose a spouse? Jasper shuddered to think of the heartbreak Emily, his dedicated maid at the Abbey, would have endured had Grovedale not been rescued. Nor would he dwell on the repercussions within the village as a whole if more locals died because of Jasper and his family name.

  Hell, Jasper had never forgiven himself for his lack of strength during that stable fire, but now he was a man. A man who’d worked tirelessly for years to build his strength so as not to ever fail another again.

  No one under his protection would perish if Jasper had anything to say about it. Including the foolish woman before him, her body now wracked with shivers from the cold rain and heavy winds.

  “We should return to the Abbey, immediately.” Jasper didn’t wait for her to answer, nor give any thought to the villagers departing without so much as a kind look in his direction. Had Miss Adeline noticed the group’s outright fear of him? “I will collect my horse and assist you up onto yours. Remain here, I will return in a moment.”

  At his hard stare, she nodded.

  Turning, Jasper made his way toward the side of the building where he’d tethered his steed, making certain to keep his distance from the remaining villagers. There was no need to draw attention to their strained relationship if Miss Adeline hadn’t already taken note of the peculiar way the townsfolk avoided the Beast of Faversham.

  “M’lord?” a thin voice called at his back.

  Jasper’s first instinct was to keep moving, collect his horse, and be gone from the plant—Miss Adeline safely at his side. He had no interest in a confrontation with a villager regarding anything that’d happened that day. He only longed to return to the Abbey, be out of the cold, don dry clothes, and serve himself a tumbler of Scotch.

  And so, Jasper lowered his head and continued toward his horse.

  “Lord Ailesbury!” the man persisted.

  Jasper slowed and turned toward the vaguely familiar voice. Grovedale walked—or rather hobbled—to keep up with Jasper’s pace. Jasper stopped when he saw the man’s struggles. He was injured and in need of a physician…and several days’ rest.

  “Grovedale. You should find your way home. I can have the cart and horses readied for your trip if needed.” Jasper attempted to keep his stare focused on the man’s face and not his clutched arm and lame leg—nor the blood slowly seeping through the man’s trousers. “I will send the physician posthaste. And your wife, as soon I return to the Abbey.”

  “I—“ The man’s eyes clouded, though if they were true tears or only the runoff from the rain dripping down his face, Jasper was uncertain. “Thank ye, m’lord, for save’n me. I be eternally in your debt.”

  Grovedale lowered his head and placed his good arm across his chest, his hand clenched in a tight fist.

  “No, it is I who owes you,” Jasper countered. “I should have had those walls checked years—“

  “No, m’lord.” Grovedale vigorously shook his head. “It be me. I shouldn’t have been work’n at all. Ye shut the plant down for a reason.”

  “Be that as it may, I am still responsible for your injuries. I will make certain the physician is at your disposal, and Emily has a fortnight off. And you can take as much leave as needed until you are recovered.”

  “But we can’t be do’n that. We’ll starve, m’lord.”

  Jasper slashed his hand through the air, halting the man’s protest. “Everything will be taken care of, Grovedale. Rest, and keep Emily close. That is what I demand of you right now.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” Grovedale bowed, taking a step back, bowing once more. His face contorted in pain the entire time. “Ye be too kind, m’lord.”

  “It is what any lord should do for his people,” he countered. “Now, be off. Watson has arrived with the cart.”

  The servant turned slowly and hobb
led back toward the waiting villagers, all avoiding Jasper, their backs to him as they greeted Watson and prepared to load Grovedale.

  He’d told himself for years it was better this way. He was Lord Ailesbury. He was the master of Faversham Abbey. He was the owner of Home Works. There was no requirement that these people be his friends, or he theirs. Though that had never stopped the terrified, lonely little boy inside him from longing to return the relationship between his family and the people of Faversham to what it had once been—before the fire, the many deaths, and Jasper’s disfigurement.

  The rain had lessened at some point during his conversation with Grovedale, the winds even relenting slightly as the clouds parted overhead.

  That did not decrease his need to see Miss Adeline home…err, to the Abbey, before she fell ill from the cold.

  Jasper untethered his mount and turned to retrace his steps through the gathering mud to where she waited, except she wasn’t where he’d left her. Instead, she was a few paces from where he and Grovedale had been speaking a moment before, only her triumphant smile at his bravery had disappeared. Her hand was now pressed to her chest, fingers splayed as her mouth hung open.

  Shock? Amazement? Adoration?

  He hadn’t the slightest notion what expression she tried to convey—or, far worse, what she’d overheard during his conversation with Grovedale.

  * * *

  * * *

  JASPER DISMOUNTED AT the front door of the Abbey, only pausing for a moment to see that a footman assisted Miss Adeline from her mare before he strode toward the house. He was a sopping, muddy, filthy mess, and she was little better. As they rode back in silence, chills had set in, making it increasingly difficult for him to keep his hold on the reins.

  He could only imagine the struggle for her to remain in her sidesaddle, burdened with the weight of her saturated gown and the icy bite of the wind in her face.

  The most outrageous occurrence rocked Jasper to his core.