Adeline

by Christina McKnight

  Holding her breath, Adeline listened for any movement from above—or out in the hall—signaling that others would be joining her.

  Nothing.

  Perfect silence.

  Even the noise from the kitchens could not be heard in the dining hall.

  Yet, someone must be arriving soon.

  Lord Ailesbury—or perhaps his wife.

  Adeline straightened in her seat at the thought, her back stiffening. Why had the thought not occurred to her before this moment? Certainly, the earl was wed and likely blessed with several children. While she hadn’t gained a clear look at the man, he was of a definite age for a family. Had she intruded on their peaceful existence?

  A young, unwed woman traveling from Canterbury back to London, chaperoned only by her lady’s maid and driver. It could be that Lady Ailesbury would not risk tarnishing her own family name by associating with such a hoyden as Adeline. Yet, her two youngest sisters had had more of an appropriate escort to school than Adeline had all those years prior. And Adeline was nearing her own majority, an age in which she would be free to make her own decisions without Alistair or her mother’s approval.

  She glanced around the finely adorned room once more, noting yet again the cleanliness of everything and the fine polish upon the floors and every wooden surface. It did not escape her scrutiny that all the furniture was dated, however. The table and chairs were fashioned from walnut, as opposed to mahogany, a favored wood popular in all of England for the last several decades. Adeline would be surprised if the massive table before her were not designed by Thomas Chippendale himself.

  Emily once again entered the room, placing a tray of sliced meat on the table.

  Adeline smiled at the servant, gaining enough of a pause from the woman for Adeline to speak before she rushed from the room once more.

  “Will Lord Ailesbury and his family be joining me soon?” she ventured to ask.

  The servant drew back from the table, keeping her stare focused on the floor in front of her with her hands clasped at her waist. “Ye should eat afore ye meal grows cold, miss.”

  “It would be impolite to begin before my host arrives—or perhaps his family I have yet to meet.” Adeline spoke softly, not wanting to frighten the girl with her inquiries. “I am not so famished that I cannot wait awhile for others to join me.”

  The woman cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder at the door she’d entered through. “Ummm, well, miss…”

  “Is all as it should be?” Adeline asked, a shiver of foreboding traveling down her back.

  “No one be join’n ye.”

  “But this is an awfully significant amount of food for only me.” Adeline laughed. “Lord Ailesbury must be about, at the very least.”

  Emily hesitantly peeked over her shoulder once more as she slowly backed from the room. “M’lord ate afore first light. And there be no one else in residence.”

  “No one else in all of Faversham Abbey?”

  “Except us servants, no, miss.”

  “But who will eat all this food?” Adeline gestured toward the overloaded table, fairly straining under the weight of all the dishes.

  “It is for ye, Miss Adeline,” Emily mumbled. “M’lord not be know’n what ye favored in the morn. Enjoy ye meal.”

  Adeline watched in stunned silence as the servant fled the room, her footsteps louder due to her haste.

  The scents of the fresh bread and sliced meat mingled with the smell of oats and honey from the porridge. Her stomach let out a loud growl of hunger. If no one were joining her, it would be foolish to let the dishes grow cold. A proper meal before she inquired about the damage done to her carriage was welcome. For all Adeline knew, her conveyance could be repaired and ready to depart within the hour, and it would be nightfall before she arrived in London.

  “Is she enjoying the fare?” Jasper asked when Emily departed the dining hall once more. “The pheasant…was enough prepared? Is there a fruit she prefers more than the berries I collected this morning?”

  “M’lord,” Emily squealed in surprise, her hand going to her heart. “If’n ye want ta know, go in and speak with her.”

  “You know I cannot do that,” Jasper said in a hushed tone, afraid his voice would carry through the thick, wooden door and into the dining hall beyond. “But I wish to know if she is pleased with her repast.”

  “She has yet ta touch anythin’.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “Is she ill from her time in the storm? I will call Doc Hobston to come round.”

  “No, m’lord.” Emily shook her head, a pitying expression overtaking her normally serene face. “She be wait’n for ye—or ye family—to join her.”

  “What did you tell her?” Jasper shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep from grasping the servant and demanding more information. “I should have donned my cloak and hood.”

  “And that would not have appeared peculiar at all, my lord,” Abbington said.

  Jasper pivoted to face his butler. “Where did you come from?”

  The man only nodded to the door behind Jasper: the butler’s pantry.

  Jasper sighed, resigned to the fact that not all of his servants lay in wait to listen to his private conversations. Not that Abbington was just another servant. He was one of Jasper’s trusted staff, a friend more often than not.

  “Can I return to me duties, m’lord?” Emily asked.

  Duties? What other duties could the woman think more important than making certain Miss Adeline Price had everything she desired?

  “Has the roasted goose been taken in?”

  “Ye may go in and check, m’lord.” The servant dipped into a curtsey. “I fear I be forget’n all that be served.”

  With a snort, Jasper turned to Abbington. “Can you summon Mrs. Hutchins, please? I would speak with her about—“

  “My lord, Jasper,”—his butler sighed in resignation—“from all I’ve heard, Miss Adeline is a nice enough young woman. Do join her for her meal.”

  “I have already eaten.” Jasper’s excuse was empty, even to his own ears. “Besides, I need to check if her carriage has been brought to the stables as yet.”

  “I will send word when I hear.”

  “But I must begin the necessary repairs immediately if she is to depart in time to reach London by nightfall.”

  “Again, I can send word when Watson and his men—“

  A bolt of lightning lit the corridor, followed by the boom of thunder far too close for Jasper’s liking. Something slammed in the dining hall, followed by the resounding shatter of glass. A high-pitched scream echoed through the thick door.

  His jaw clenched as the sound reverberated in his head, his legs weakening for the span of a mere heartbeat.

  Jasper pushed through the double doors as they slammed against the wall behind them. Wind assaulted his face when he scanned the room, searching for what had caused Miss Adeline to shout in terror. It was as if a cyclone had moved through the dining hall—two of the candelabras were blown over, their light extinguished, and another closer to the tall windows had been snuffed. The drapes blew into the room from the open bay windows, shards of glass littered the floor in every direction. Miss Adeline stood, her arms wrapped around herself, her chair overturned behind her.

  “Miss Adeline!” Jasper stopped only a few feet into the dining hall.

  Abbington shuffled around him into the room, attempting to secure the windows to keep the rain from pouring in, but the latch had been broken.

  The woman’s back was to him, and she shivered. “Are you injured?”

  Jasper should not have raced into action, but instead allowed Abbington to handle the situation. It would have been far wiser to depart and send for a footman to clean up the mess of the shattered window, but still, he stood frozen, his glare on her back as she slowly turned to face him—just as another lightning strike illuminated the room and his marred neck and arm.

  His years living with his deformity from the fire should have pre
pared him for her reaction. He should have been primed for her recoil. He should have anticipated her loud gasp. He should have predicted the look of wide-eyed terror that followed.

  However, even after fifteen years of enduring such responses to the scars that covered the side of his face, neck, and down his arm, Jasper was never able to steel himself against the inner pain that coursed through him as others witnessed his outer damage.

  To her credit, her shock lasted less than a few seconds before her poise returned and she sighed in relief, glancing toward the now closed windows as Abbington used a cord from the drapes to tie the handles together. Wind and rain still made their way in through the broken pane, but the worst of the storm had been pushed back outside.

  Jasper itched to assist Abbington with the mess that had been created.

  “Lord Ailesbury?” Miss Adeline asked tentatively.

  She hadn’t seen his face the previous night. Therefore, she could think him anyone. With his simple white linen shirt and sturdy, brown trousers, Jasper appeared anything but the master of Faversham Abbey. He did not stand on pomp and ceremony in his household. Never did he wear a neckcloth or style his hair in the latest gentlemen’s fashion.

  He could escape now, repair her carriage, and send Miss Adeline on her way without them crossing paths again.

  He should flee.

  Chapter 6

  There was no mistaking the man for anyone but the Earl of Ailesbury—lord of Faversham Abbey. His size with his broad shoulders and muscular legs spread in an authoritative stance were distinctive and brought to mind the man who’d rescued Adeline from the roadway the previous night. That he was attired in such informal shirt and trousers did not strike her as odd in any way.

  It fit him. Perfectly.

  And she would recognize him anywhere, no matter if he wore a cloak to hide his scarred countenance or remained in the shadows of the room.

  Every inch of her was drawn to him, no matter the apprehension coursing through her at the initial sight of him.

  “Lord Ailesbury?” He’d scared her far more when he barged into the dining hall than the commotion from the broken window latch, the shattering of the windowpane, and the subsequent destruction when the wind sent the candelabras falling in every direction.

  Thankfully, the wicks had been snuffed in the gust before they lit the fine tablecloth ablaze.

  She could not stop her stare from traveling the length of the man. He was all strength with thighs as stout as a tree and a narrow waist that led up to a broad chest heavy with muscles. Even his neck, sinewy and sculpted, spoke of hard labor. If his linen shirt were removed, would the expanse below be rife with ridges and corded power?

  “My lord, thank you—“

  His jaw clenched, and Adeline’s mouth clamped shut.

  Finally, she could see his eyes—green, much like the color of new leaves budding in the spring warmth.

  What she hadn’t expected was the cold, hard stare he leveled on her.

  It should be Adeline questioning his decorum as her host. It should be she leveling him with a disdainful glare.

  “Have I done aught to anger you, Lord Ailesbury?” Her good sense told her she should be scared, seek out her room until it was time to depart, or at the very least, keep her mouth firmly closed.

  Yet, Adeline had never been blessed with any sense of self-preservation.

  It wasn’t his marred countenance, the scars traveling from the side of his face to his neck and down his exposed arm from under his rolled sleeves that sent a shiver of fright coursing through her. Heavens no, it was the scowl that had settled on his face. No man would have gone to such lengths to save her, bring her to his home and out of the storm, only to show himself as a cruel, abusive man at first light.

  His irked expression did not suit him.

  Adeline sensed that Lord Ailesbury was no more a man prone to a punishing nature than she was a woman known for her kind disposition.

  Sad, but very accurate.

  “Have you been injured by the glass, Miss Adeline?” His question cut like a knife, hard and quick, doing nothing to soften his expression. “I can summon Doc—“

  “No, my lord,” Adeline rushed. “I am uninjured. I was simply startled by the window bursting open and the candles extinguishing. My heartbeat has settled now, thank you for your concern.”

  To her utter bewilderment, Lord Ailesbury pivoted and stalked from the room, leaving Adeline staring at his retreating back.

  “Do not take offense, miss,” Abbington said from his position by the windows. “My lord does not mean any insult, it is only that he is unfamiliar with the art of entertaining.”

  It was more likely he’d noticed her reaction when she turned and saw his scarred face for the first time. If Adeline could only turn back the clock a quarter of an hour, she would tame her response to his sudden appearance, for she hadn’t been frightened or even so much as startled by his wounds. His footsteps quieted as he strode farther from the dining hall, and Adeline suspected if she allowed him to escape, she’d never have the opportunity to make amends for the hurt she caused him.

  She did the only thing that proved effective when a man—normally one of her brothers—sought to escape her. Adeline took hold of her skirts, so as not to trip over them, and ran after Lord Ailesbury. She caught up with him in the foyer as a footman helped him into a jacket.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “Hunting,” he huffed, slamming his hands into gloves and pulling his hood up.

  “You cannot venture out in this gale.”

  “I most assuredly can—and will,” he countered. “It is my responsibility to feed everyone at Faversham Abbey, and the storm is likely to pass by the time my horse is readied.”

  He could feed the entire household—and the village beyond—if he hadn’t been so wasteful with her repast. Adeline kept this to herself. Another thing she knew all too well was that criticizing men on their own follies gained a woman less than nothing. Yet, she would never forgive herself knowing it was she who forced him from his home. If she hadn’t reacted as she did, he would not be rushing out into the unrelenting elements under the guise of hunting.

  There was only one thing Adeline could think to do. “Allow me to collect my cloak and bow from my room, and I shall join you. It is the least I can do after you provided such a grand meal for me.”

  “You cannot…it is…improper…ludicrous…” he stammered as Adeline turned toward the stairs. “You will not come with me. You will wait here until your carriage is repaired and be on your way back to London.”

  Adeline flipped around, galled at the man’s attempt to order her about as if he were her guardian. “I most certainly can—and will—come with you.”

  “You are not attired properly. The wind and rain will soak through to your skin within moments.”

  “I thought you said the storm would pass by the time our horses are readied,” she threw back at him, unwilling to give up or give in to his excuses.

  “Our horses?” Lord Ailesbury glanced over her shoulder. “Abbington! See that Miss Adeline finishes her meal and retires to rest before her journey back to London.”

  “You cannot think to order me ab—“

  “This is my home. While you are here, I am responsible for your well-being.” Lord Ailesbury’s voice thundered around her. She longed to remind him that as master of Faversham Abbey, he did not need to go out in the storm to hunt, but at his narrowed glare, she remained silent. “You will remain in this house until your carriage is ready to depart.”

  He gave her no further opportunity to debate the issue when he pulled the front door wide and slammed it behind him, once again leaving Adeline and Abbington in his wake.

  She expected the servant to absolve his master’s rude behavior, but he made no excuses this time.

  He knotted his hands behind his back and took in all of Adeline’s bluster at the situation as his wounded smile turned to intense scrutiny. “The rai
n will pass, Miss Adeline.”

  “Thank you, Abbington.” She ducked her head, thinking the man only sought to reassure her she’d be free of Faversham Abbey before long—and out of Lord Ailesbury’s way.

  “If you will wait in your room, I will have suitable hunting attire brought round, and your bow collected from your possessions in the stables.”

  Adeline’s mouth dropped open, and the butler nodded to cover his conspiratorial smile.

  “But…Lord Ailesbury said…” she started before clamping her mouth shut once more. The man had offered to assist her, and she would not dare question his motives. “Thank you, Abbington. Have I ever told you how much my family adores names beginning with the letter A?”

  “You have not, Miss Adeline,” he replied. “But I foresee plenty of time in the future for us to discuss that topic at greater length. You have a hunting expedition to ready for. I will send a maid with a riding habit.”

  She made no attempt to hide her bewildered stare, but it only had the servant smiling at her. Plenty of time in the foreseeable future? She hardly suspected the storm would prevent her from departing Kent before noonday passed.

  Adeline took several steps and wrapped the servant in a tight embrace before hurrying up the stairs to her room. No matter the man’s intent, she was thankful for his kindness.

  While she’d been below stairs her bed had been made, the drapes tied back, and her belongings repacked and waiting at the foot of the mattress; though Poppy was nowhere to be seen.

  Odd. Adeline could not think where the maid had disappeared to. Maybe she’d been summoned below to find her own meal.

  Adeline hurriedly undid the buttons at the back of her gown, stripping it away, and sat to await her hunting attire.

  She could not risk sending for her maid and thus have her servant recite the danger Adeline could face by accompanying Lord Ailesbury on his hunting excursion. That she’d never used her bow for game, only sport, would not diminish Adeline’s resolve. What problems could a moving stag or a flying pheasant present? She was used to plying her skill before audiences in the hundreds, there was little chance she’d allow Lord Ailesbury to distract her focus. She, along with Theo and Georgie, had competed—and won she might add—in several London archery tourneys in the last several years. This could be no different.