Moving soundlessly through the garden and into the kitchen, Jasper allowed the warmth to banish the cold he hadn’t realized had set in. His fingers tingled from the drastic change in temperature, and his nose thawed as the savory scents of the kitchen wrapped him in a familiar embrace.
Jasper pushed Miss Adeline Price from his thoughts.
She would be gone soon enough, and everything would be as it had been for years.
“I sent me special duck pie ta the lady, m’lord,” Cook called from the open stove where she stirred a huge pot. “It be a rare occasion indeed that even the finickiest a eaters not be fall’n in love with me duck.”
Love? Why would Cook think to capture the woman’s love?
“She is a guest for only tonight.” Jasper frowned. “We will make certain to be gracious hosts, but that is all.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
He narrowed his stare on the woman. “What has come over you? Never have you called me ‘my lord’.”
Cook turned her attention back to the pot she’d been stirring. “Well, we ain’t never had a true London lady in the house neither.”
“Be that as it may, as I said, she is only a guest—an unexpected one at that—and she will be gone soon.”
“If’n ye say so, m’lord.”
Jasper only shook his head and continued toward the stairs. He’d been exhausted when he left the plant for the night, and that had been before they stumbled upon Miss Adeline’s stranded coach. Currently, he was uncertain how he still stood. A long night of sleep would prepare him for the work he’d need to accomplish when the sun rose. It would be no easy feat to collect Miss Adeline’s coach from the mud and bring it to his stables for repairs.
“A word, my lord,” Abbington said, as Jasper set his foot on the first stair.
He slowly turned toward his butler. “Yes, Abbington, and please, dispel with the formalities.”
The man cleared his throat before continuing. “Jasper.” His staff had called him by his given name since his parents’ deaths—possibly before. “Mrs. Hutchins and I are overjoyed at Miss Adeline’s arrival. We are also confused. It is highly improper to offer her shelter here…without a proper chaperone in residence.”
“I do not think there was much choice in the matter.” Jasper pushed his hood back and slammed his hands into his trouser pockets. “A storm is raging, and the roads were becoming less and less travelable. It was either bring her here or leave her to her fate. What would you have me do, Abbington?”
“Take her to Anderson’s shop.” Abbington put increased emphasis on each word.
But Jasper was not a dullard. He’d been well aware of the risks he’d undertaken bringing her to Faversham Abbey; yet, he’d been unable to tame his selfishness. For one night, he would not be alone at his estate, even if he never saw the woman or allowed her to see him, Miss Adeline was still in residence. It had been a long ten years since his aunt died. And his uncle passed only five short years later. Since then, he’d been alone at Faversham Abbey, the twenty bedrooms, four stories, and acres surrounding the manor had never felt as lonesome as they did in recent days.
“Do you assume I did not already think of that?” Jasper sighed, attempting to keep his irritation at bay. He knew his servants were only trying to protect him—and he was overly wary from his day at the plant. “Besides, it was closer to come to the Abbey as opposed to venturing back toward town.”
His butler’s brows rose in question. “If you say so, my lord.”
“I do.” Jasper started up the stairs again but paused. “And do not think your wife and I will not have words over her choice of chambers for Miss Adeline.”
“I cannot speak to my wife’s decisions, as you know, but she has shared with me she is worried about you—all alone here at Faversham.” The man fell into silence, knowing the limits to their relationship. No matter what happened in the place they both called home, Jasper was still his master. And he a mere servant. There were boundaries and societal expectations to be upheld.
Even if every day those lines were blurred more and more. “That I understand.”
Abbington was no more in control of his wife, Mrs. Hutchins, than Jasper was. Since his parents’ deaths—and later, his aunt and uncle’s deaths—the woman had been the only mother figure Jasper knew. In a way, his housekeeper was more familiar with his likes and dislikes than anyone. How was it only at times like this his apparent lack of companionship became overwhelming?
“Do see that Cook prepares adequate food for Miss Adeline to break her fast in the morning. It is a long journey back to London, and I will not have her arriving famished. I think the pheasant Cook was saving for supper tomorrow will do nicely. Please see to it.”
“Of course,” Abbington said with a chuckle.
Jasper had no urge to ponder why his butler found his demands comical or why he longed to impress Miss Adeline at all. She would return to London, and he would remain in Faversham—where he need not fear the penetrating stares and jeers of strangers.
After the damage caused by the fire that took his parents’ lives, Jasper had guarded himself with the assistance of his paternal uncle, Lieutenant Colonel Bartholomew Benedict, and his aunt, Alice. They hired tutors to see to his schooling at Faversham—everything from arithmetic to science to literature. Jasper had even been instructed in the modern styles of dance one would encounter in every London ballroom. Not that he’d ever actually taken to the floor with anyone other than his aunt Alice and Mrs. Hutchins.
He’d fooled himself for years, thinking he secluded himself at his country manor to keep from scaring others with the sight of his scarred face and body, but truly, it was to protect him from the cruel side of human nature. Here, at his home, and even in town, the sight of his scars did not frighten others as it once did. The men at his plant avoided him, but no longer did they shrink in fear of his monstrous appearance.
It was enough to know that someone shared the house with him, besides his servants—who were paid to serve him.
He continued up the stairs and down the hall to his room, not allowing himself to pause outside Miss Adeline’s chambers. She would be gone soon enough, and his household would return to normal.
Solitude would once again be his safeguard against the cruel, misunderstanding world.
The Beast of Faversham did not need to hear the words uttered by people who he’d once called friends to know it was what the villagers whispered to one another when he wasn’t near.
Yet, could he bear hearing those same words from the tender lips of Miss Adeline Price?
Chapter 5
ADELINE SAT IN a straight-backed chair and beheld the table before her as the storm continued to rage outside. With at least eighteen chairs, the long, walnut surface could seat all of her siblings with a chair between each to stop their constant bickering and banter—and alleviate the headache that Alistair claimed to have had since he reached his majority. Not only was the table peculiarly grand, but its top was set as if a gathering of London’s social elite would be arriving at any moment to bear witness to Lord Ailesbury’s fine feast. Yet, as of the last quarter hour, Adeline had been the only person seated at the table as dish after heavenly smelling dish was set before her.
Not one, not two, not three, but four candelabras were stationed at precise intervals down the table, lending the perfect lighting for an evening meal. However, it was now the breakfast hour. Even the cutlery and utensils were fine silver with matching meal rings around the large plate before them. The serving dishes held enough meat, cheese, bread, fruit, and porridge for her family’s entire household—servants included. It all seemed overly grand and refined for a mere morning repast.
When she’d entered, she was positioned to the right of the head seat.
An honored guest.
Adeline knew as much from her time at Miss Emmeline’s School. While they focused on academics, decorum and etiquette were also requirements for each pupil.
Still, she wondered who would jo
in her.
Adeline hesitated to touch anything, though she allowed her fingertips to caress the finely cut crystal of the wine goblet set before her. The glass twinkled in the glow of the candles, casting a rainbow of colors on the far wall.
With all the food already set out—and Emily, the servant from the previous evening—continuing to set dish after dish upon the table, there must be others coming.
Yet, the house remained eerily quiet with only the servant’s light footsteps in and out of the dining hall to disturb the stillness of Faversham Abbey.
That and the occasional rattle of the windowpanes as the wind and rains continued to unleash their fury on the Kent countryside. Poppy had insisted the storm was near passing, but Emily had not been as confident in declaring the gale was subsiding.
As if the young woman had read Adeline’s thoughts, Emily entered the room once again with a large platter of fresh bread, the steam drifting off the evenly sliced portions told her it was still warm from the oven. With a quick smile and a nod, the servant placed the dish before Adeline and hurriedly departed the room once more.
Adeline had not moved to fill her plate, her manners preventing her from doing so until all had arrived to break their fast. Had she arrived unfashionably early?
She’d never been known as one to wake with the sun. Nor had she and Poppy rushed through her morning routine as she donned her last clean gown and had her light brown locks pinned perfectly for her day.
Unease settled around her much like her rain-soaked cloak. In what she felt was another life entirely, Adeline would have been cast in a web of irritation to be left to her own devices in a stranger’s home. Instead, she was fairly fatigued with loneliness.
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 necessa
ry 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 prepared 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.
When a Rogue Falls Page 62
