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 rain 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 butl
er 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.
Her competitive streak would not diminish because her target was not a stationary, straw-stuffed object. Nor would it wane because her competition was a handsome man with an overbearing streak.
Besides, it would be a new ability Adeline would be pleased to demonstrate for Theo, Georgie, and Josie when next they practiced in Hyde Park.
It was better to beg forgiveness than be denied permission outright.
Another fact Adeline had learned not only at home but also from her many years at Miss Emmeline’s School.
Chapter 7
JASPER WAITED IN his study for his horse to be readied, pacing from the unlit hearth to his desk and back again, attempting to banish from his mind his less than noble treatment of Miss Adeline. After departing out the front door, he’d slipped back in through the side entrance and hid in his study.
What a damned coward.
He’d brought her to Faversham Abbey when she could have just as easily found refuge in town, only to treat her in a most ungentlemanly manner.
His aunt, Alice, would be appalled at his behavior and would likely return from her grave to haunt him if she were able. But bloody hell…he could not allow Miss Adeline to accompany him out into the storm—and for hunting, no less.
She could be injured. There was a great possibility of her becoming disoriented and lost in the woods.
Or far worse still, her horse could become spooked and throw her.
The land surrounding Faversham Abbey was vast and not easily navigated.
But there was no one to blame but himself. He wasn’t so foolish as to not realize that if he hadn’t demanded his entire fowl surplus cooked and prepared for her morning meal, they would have plenty of provisions for the next several days. That he’d ventured out in the pelting rain just after daybreak to collect berries from the vines at the edge of his property would likely cause laughter among his servants for months to come.
The truth of the matter was, Jasper had held the advantage with Miss Adeline until a short while ago. He’d taken in her beauty, her poise, and her upturned button nose. He’d watched her walk into his home the night before as if she belonged there. She’d handled his servants with the expert hands of a woman learned in managing a household.
And he’d been forced to hide himself and avoid his servants for fear of revealing the truth.
Blast it all, but it made him feel more than a mere sense of inadequacy. He felt like an outsider in his own home.
He pivoted and started back toward the hearth, glancing out the window as he stalked across the room. True to his word, the storm was clearing, the clouds pushing toward the far horizon, allowing a rare glimpse of the sun during a normally foggy March day.
By now, the blasted woman should be returned to her room as he’d commanded, and Jasper would be free to slip from the house unnoticed. When he was informed that his horse was ready, that was.
He chuckled, thinking of her determination to have her way.
Aunt Alice would have liked the woman immensely, while his uncle would have mumbled about the folly of women raised with a mind of their own. Yet, Jasper’s father’s younger brother had chosen just such a woman to take as wife. No matter his gruff nature and whispered criticisms, Lieutenant Colonel Bartholomew Benedict was a man who insisted on a woman with spunk and wit. Things his aunt had possessed in spades.
Jasper wondered if his own father, Balthazar Benedict, the fifth Earl of Ailesbury, had the same preference in the fairer sex. Alas, he’d been but a boy of twelve when Lord and Lady Ailesbury died, along with three servants and a half dozen horses, in the fire that had burned the earl’s stable to the ground—nearly taking Jasper’s life, as well.
Shaking his head, Jasper pushed the old wounds back where they belonged—buried and ignored. There was little to be gained from spiraling into that deep hole of guilt and doubt, or so his aunt had told him for years.
Bloody hell, but he missed the woman…and his uncle. Sad that his time with them here at Faversham held far more memories than those with his blooded parents. His aunt had doted on her nephew since she and his uncle hadn’t been blessed with a child of their own. They’d seen to his education, private though it was as they thought it best his tutors come to the Abbey. His uncle had taught him the courage and strength of a soldier, as well as the kindness and compassion needed to help others. Jasper had been instructed in the ways of estate management, including keeping the ledgers, how to resolve disputes between servants and villagers, and household management. The last was due to his aunt’s persistence…in case it was many years before Jasper wed.
A knock sounded at the door, bringing him back to the present with a start.
“Enter.” He cleared his throat to dispel his gravelly tone.
His aunt and uncle had been gone for many years now. Crying would not bring them back nor give him another day with them.
Abbington entered, his steps sure and his head held high. “Your steed awaits you out front, my lord. The storm has receded, and your bow is at the ready.”
“Out front?” Jasper’s brow furrowed. He’d never once had his horse brought round to the front of the house. His path to the best hunting grounds lay behind the manor, toward the gunpowder plant. “Very well. I will depart immediately. Make certain Miss Adeline has all that’s needed until her carriage departs.”
“Of course, my lord.” Abbington gave him a crisp nod before twisting to allow Jasper to pass and proceed him into the foyer.
There was something off with the servant, and Jasper could only think it was the woman’s presence in his home. There was little other explanation for his staff’s formal attitude and rigid posture. It was as though they sought to impress Miss Adeline.
Ludicrous—and a waste of time and energy, if you asked Jasper.
Miss Adeline Price belonged in London, surrounded by hoity-toity gents and ladies in outrageous garb. She belonged in elaborately decorated ballrooms or ensconced in private opera boxes. She was used to finely furnished townhouses with grand foyers and sparkling chandeliers with hundreds of candles, casting ill
umination on her below.
Faversham Abbey hadn’t seen a proper renovation since before Jasper was born—if not several decades before that. He’d never set foot in a ballroom nor an opera house.
Damnation, he had no recollection of what London looked like except for the drawings and a few paintings his mother had brought with her to Kent after wedding his father.
Though it did not leave him with melancholy or wanting a stay in the grand city.
He and Miss Adeline came from two different worlds, and Jasper needed no further proof of that than his stumbling upon her stranded alongside the roadway.
Jasper pulled up short when he entered the foyer.
He rubbed at his eyes, blinked several times, and even tilted his head to the left a smidgen.
There was no way he did not imagine the vision before him. Perhaps he was ill and hadn’t taken a moment to realize it, or his thoughts of Miss Adeline had conjured the dreamscape before him.
Certainly, one of the two explained Miss Adeline Price’s appearance at the bottom of the staircase, garbed in a riding habit of the deepest scarlet he’d ever seen with a bow slung over her shoulder.
Jasper would recognize the habit anywhere, though it had been over twelve years since he’d seen it.
“It fits admirably, does it not Lord Ailesbury?” The woman had the nerve to spin around, her heavy skirts staying about her ankles and her bow remaining high on her shoulder.
“Who gave you that habit?” He would enact swift justice on the servant who dared disobey his command.
“Poppy brought it to me,” she said with a shrug. “It is well made with a master’s skill at stitching.”
A squeak sounded from above, and Jasper narrowed his stare on the landing in time to see Emily—and Adeline’s maid, Poppy—scatter out of view. So, his servants were in cahoots with hers.
Interesting.
“I am happy you approve,” he growled.
When a Rogue Falls Page 63
