Adeline

by Christina McKnight

  Another bump sent his knee smashing into the seat across from him, the pain traveling up his thigh.

  Bloody hell.

  He should have had the roads repaired long ago.

  The rain hammered against the top of his carriage as they traveled far too slowly for Jasper’s liking. He was tired, aching, and hungry, and hadn’t had a drink in what seemed like days. Hours crouched over a desk in a factory where one could barely hear themselves think could drain every ounce of vigor from a man.

  Twelve hours away from his home at Faversham Abbey, and there were still hours of work left to do.

  Jasper scrubbed at his dirt-streaked face, pulling his hands through his hair. His valet would likely be torn between running for the safety of London and chastising him for staining yet another white linen shirt; all the while holding a pair of shears close to Jasper’s unruly, shoulder-length hair. It had been tied back at the base of his neck with a length of baling twine that morning, but at some point, it had slipped away and was forgotten. Perhaps when he’d gone in search of his foreman to command all the villagers return home early due to the coming storm, or when he and his driver went into the gale to batten down the windows and doors to prevent flooding inside the plant.

  He cared naught, either way.

  No one but his servants would notice his less than proper attire or rakishly long, unbridled hair.

  George, his driver, thumped on the side of the carriage. “Carriage ahead, m’lord. Shall we stop and see who it be?”

  They slowed as they approached the conveyance, obviously stranded at the edge of the road. The approaching night and storm overhead made it impossible for Jasper to tell if the carriage was damaged or if they were only stopped by the increasing mud underfoot.

  “We stop,” Jasper yelled as they pulled alongside it to see a man assisting a woman into the safety of the coach. “I do not recognize the conveyance or the driver.”

  Strangers in this part of Kent? During a tempest? Traveling in such an outdated coach?

  The person had either been taken by surprise by the turn in weather or was completely mad.

  “You, there!” George pulled the horses to a stop and leapt down from his seat. “What business ye have here?”

  Any further conversation was lost in the driving wind and unrelenting rain.

  Finally, George knocked on the carriage door, and Jasper reached to open it.

  “He says he be travel’n from Canterbury ta London and the storm done forced him offa the main road.” His driver glanced over his shoulder at the waiting carriage. “Somethin’ broke underneath, and the driver, a maid, and their mistress are stranded.”

  It was not often that travelers stopped in Faversham on their way to London. The village, though it boasted good, capable people, lacked the draw of entertainment the beau monde was accustomed to. There was no playhouse, no fancy dining establishments, nor a tavern. Only honest, hardworking people trying to survive each day.

  In Jasper’s mind, the area was better for it as there was no place for men to drink late into the night and lose their hard-earned coin at cards.

  “I will have a look.” Jasper pulled the hood of his cloak up to cover his face and climbed from the coach when his driver stood back.

  George’s lips pressed into a firm line, and his eyes widened. “Are you sure that be wise, m’lord?”

  Jasper held back his growl at the man’s question, reminding himself that his servants only sought to look after his best interests. “It is nearing nightfall, and the storm is blocking all light. I will keep my hood raised. Do not fret.”

  With a simple nod, George led Jasper to the damaged carriage. Beyond the wheels being submerged in several inches of muck, something hung loosely under the coach—likely the brake beam or push bar. There was nothing he or his servant could do to send the group on their way until the coach could at least be pulled back to the cover of the Faversham Abbey stables to be repaired.

  “M’lord,” George called over the wind. “We need ta be on our way, or we be likely ta get stuck in the mud.”

  “I agree.” Jasper glanced at the carriage window. Two women stared out at him, their noses pressed to the glass. “But we cannot leave them here. The night will grow cold, and the dawn may very well see temperatures close to frost, and that is if the storm passes.”

  “What do ye think ta do?”

  “Sir,” Jasper called to the other driver, pulling his hood up to better shield his face. “I’m the Earl of Ailesbury. It appears your carriage cannot be repaired here.”

  “There be an inn nearby?”

  “I am afraid it is a fair distance away,” Jasper responded. The man’s dejected look pulled at him. “However, my home is not far, and has plenty of room for your mistress, her maid, and you.”

  The man chewed his bottom lip before glancing toward the carriage. “I will check with Miss Ade—me mistress.”

  “Do hurry.” Another streak of lightning lit the night sky, illuminating the foreboding clouds above. “It is likely the storm will get far worse before it passes.”

  The man hurried to speak with his mistress.

  “Ye think have’n ‘em at the Abbey be wise, m’lord?”

  “Wiser than leaving them here and finding them injured—or worse, dead—on the morrow.”

  “Ver’a true.”

  No matter what Jasper said aloud, the tingling moving through him was similar to the night he’d rushed into his family’s burning stables in an attempt to rescue his parents. Everyone in Faversham was aware how that had turned out—for both him and his family.

  However, leaving the trio here was no more an option than standing by and allowing the fire to rage around his mother and father.

  A spike of pain hit his chest, similar to a lightning bolt hitting a tree. Dredging up the memory was certain to have a lasting effect on him.

  The man stepped lightly through the deepening mud to stand before Jasper as he removed his cap and lowered his head. “Me mistress would meet ye before accept’n ye kindness, m’lord.”

  Jasper glanced sideways to see George’s darkening look. “My master only seeks—“

  “It is fine, George.” Rain had utterly saturated his outer garment and soaked clean through his trousers to chill his skin. Jasper even sensed his Hessians filling with water as they stood in the pouring rain. “Your name, sir?”

  “Max, errr, Maxwell Smithe, m’lord.”

  “Swell to meet you,” Jasper greeted. “Now, please introduce me to your mistress so we can all find safety from the storm with all due haste.”

  He lowered his head to keep the rain from hitting his face and followed Maxwell.

  They halted, and Maxwell opened the door. Jasper peered into the dim interior of the coach to see a woman, her long hair a matted tangle of knots from her time in the storm. She held her cloak wrapped tightly around her as her teeth chattered from the cold.

  She stared back at him, her eyes wide, and Jasper feared she could see past his hood. However, he knew that wasn’t possible. Even if his hood had slipped slightly, the darkness surely hid his scars.

  The woman needed dry clothes and a warm fire—quickly.

  “I am the Earl of Ailesbury,” he called, his words fighting the noise of the storm at his back. “My home is only a short distance away. You may seek shelter there for the night, and I will have your carriage brought round to my stables in the morning for repairs.”

  The woman stared back at him wordlessly.

  Her almond-shaped, hazel eyes inspected him from his hidden face and down the length of his body. Jasper hadn’t felt laid bare before another his entire life. Was she leery enough of him to refuse his offer?

  As if on cue, a wolf howled in the near distance, its call echoing above the whine of the storm. Within moments, several others answered.

  Chapter 3

  Adeline gulped at the same moment another round of howling broke through the crashing noise of the storm. She was uncertain what opti
on would leave her the most vulnerable: being washed away by the ever-increasing flood water, set upon by a pack of hungry wolves, or agreeing to accompany the hooded stranger back to his home to wait out the storm. For likely the first time in all her life, Adeline had no urge to act impulsively, no rash compulsion to leap from her carriage and into Lord Ailesbury’s inviting coach.

  Glancing across the carriage, Poppy appeared as hesitant as she, her fingers clutching the edge of the seat. It was not only Adeline’s safety at stake but that of Maxwell and Poppy, as well.

  “I will await you in my carriage.” The earl nodded to Maxwell before retreating to the cover of his waiting conveyance.

  “Miss,” Poppy whispered, leaning close as if afraid the man would overhear, but the boom of thunder covered her single word, and the windowpanes in the carriage rattled as the ground shook. “Do you suppose it is safe?”

  The storm was no doubt directly above them, and a torrential downpour eminent. She needed to make the decision to remain in their damaged carriage or accept Lord Ailesbury’s offer of shelter. Yet, trepidation held her back. She’d never been the Melton sibling to shy away from anything due to personal risk…however…

  Adeline nibbled on her lower lip, pondering her situation, and that of her servants.

  “The rain be come’n down, miss,” Maxwell called, the wind howling through the cracked carriage door.

  “Do you think the man safe?” she asked.

  “He be have’n a fine coach, nice clothes, and superb horses,” her driver replied.

  “I did not ask if he is financially endowed.” A well-sprung carriage, and the best horses Tattersall’s had to offer did not make one safe. “I meant, do you think it wise to journey with the earl to his home?”

  “I do not think we have much choice,” Poppy squeaked.

  “Very well,” Adeline sighed, collecting her handbag as she prepared to depart her family coach. “Do make certain my belongings—and Poppy’s—are brought to Lord Ailesbury’s residence.”

  “Of course, Miss Adeline.”

  She took the driver’s offered hand and stepped back into the rain, surprised to find an unfamiliar servant holding an umbrella to shield her from the worst of the storm.

  “Right this way, miss.” He waited for Poppy to exit and gestured toward Lord Ailesbury’s waiting carriage, the large man already seated inside. “I have coals to warm your feet, and a thick woolen blanket to ward off the chill until we arrive at Faversham Abbey.”

  Adeline slipped her arm through Poppy’s, and they picked their way across the muddy road, attempting to maneuver around the largest puddles.

  Finally, they took the two steps into Lord Ailesbury’s carriage and seated themselves across from the hulking man. If he’d looked massive outside with his wide shoulders and thick legs, now, he appeared to nearly fill the interior of the carriage. True to the driver’s promise, a blanket lay folded between Adeline and Poppy with a metal box of coals under their seat. A single lantern swung on a hook outside the carriage, fighting to remain lit despite the onslaught of wind and rain. It cast a dim glow around the women and on Lord Ailesbury’s booted feet, but did not reach any higher on the man, leaving him shrouded in darkness, his hood still raised to shield his face—or so it appeared.

  The coach sprang into motion a few moments later, and Adeline waited for the man to speak…or lower his hood…or, at the very least, breathe.

  But he made not a sound.

  He only sat with his head lowered slightly, making it impossible for Adeline to gain a proper view of his face.

  “Thank you for your kindness, my lord,” she mumbled, attempting to force him to speak. “It was very gallant of you.”

  “It is as any gentleman should do,” he grunted.

  “Yes, but offering us shelter is far more than what is expected.”

  He pulled the curtain back and stared into the dark night beyond. “It was either that or risk having you perish in the storm.”

  Adeline scooted in Poppy’s direction, hoping for a small peek as he continued to stare at something beyond their carriage, but he allowed the curtain to fall back into place and reached up, adjusting his hood.

  “We are arriving now.” He pounded on the side of the coach, and they slowed to a stop. “I will let the pair of you out here. My servants will collect your carriage as soon as the storm passes and make the necessary repairs. My housekeeper will see you to your room and have a meal prepared.”

  Lord Ailesbury crossed one leg over the other and placed his hands on his lap, relaxing into the plush padding.

  Was he dismissing her?

  Instantly, she was transported back to her girlhood—being deposited outside Miss Emmeline’s without an offer of assistance down the long drive. A sharp retort rushed to the tip of her tongue.

  Before she could utter a word, however, the carriage door swung open, and a footman set the steps. No wind or rain swept into the coach.

  “Thank you, again, my lord.” Adeline stood, her chin notching high as she took the steps down to the cobbled drive, happy to see they’d pulled into a sheltered area that kept the storm at bay. “Come, Poppy.”

  “Abbington,” the driver shouted to the man who had opened the front door. “Please have Mrs. Hutchins prepare a guest chamber for Miss…errr…”

  The man’s words trailed off as he searched his memory for her name, but Adeline hadn’t given it, and neither had Lord Ailesbury or his servant asked.

  “Miss Adeline Price,” she said with a smile. “But, please, Addington, there is little need to go through all that trouble for me.”

  “It is our pleasure, Miss Adeline,” the servant said. “I am George, me lord’s driver. If ye be need’n anythin’, do have someone collect me. For now, Abbington and Mrs. Hutchins will take swell care of ye.”

  “And what of Lord Ailesbury?” He hadn’t departed the carriage—and even now, she noted his knees through the open door. “Will he not be accompanying Poppy and me into his home?”

  George glanced over his shoulder and back to the waiting women. “He, ah, well…he be have’n work ta see ta in the stables. I be certain he’ll join ye for a meal in an hour’s time. He likely be make’n certain your servant and horses find dry accommodations.”

  Peculiar since the earl had told her a meal would be prepared for her. Could it be the man avoided her? And why would the lord of the manor have business to attend to in the stables in the midst of a gale? She tamped down the unease that coursed through her. This was one night…in a strange home…with an unusually mysterious lord. Besides, Adeline would keep Poppy at her side. Certainly, her most trusted maid wouldn’t allow anything untoward to occur.

  A gust of wind wailed through the covered alcove where she stood, whipping her damp cloak and skirt about her ankles as the cold burrowed through her many layers of clothing. Perhaps it didn’t matter what Lord Ailesbury’s plan was, only that she and Poppy were delivered to a warm, dry room before the weather gave them the sickness.

  She hurried after the butler, Abbington, into the foyer. The warmth hit her square in the face as she crossed the threshold, yet Adeline pulled to a halt, causing Poppy to slam into the back of her when they came face-to-face with a line of perfectly groomed and outfitted servants, each with a welcoming smile and a kind greeting.

  A tall, rail-thin woman, her eyes wide with what appeared to be shock—or possibly apprehension—stepped forward from the group of gathered servants. Her lack of cleaning rag or duster, plus her pristine uniform indicated that the older woman held some elevated position among the other staff.

  The butler stepped forward, joining Adeline, Poppy, and the older woman. “Mrs. Hutchins is Lord Ailesbury’s housekeeper. Mrs. Hutchins, may I introduce Miss Adeline Price. My lord would like her shown to a room and a meal delivered, followed by a hot bath, if she so chooses.”

  “Of course, Abbington,” the woman scuffed. “I know how ta do me job, even if’n it has been a bit.”

  Ad
eline glanced over at Poppy, who stood not beside Adeline but a step behind her. They shared a look and a shrug.

  “Emily, fetch Miss Adeline her meal and meet us in the lavender room.” The entire gathering drew in a deep breath. “And the rest of ye, best be get’n back ta ye chores.”

  The servants scattered in every direction, and within a moment that only left the housekeeper, Adeline, and Poppy.

  “This way, miss.” The older woman didn’t wait for Adeline to respond but started up the grand staircase, giving her no other option but to follow—and follow quickly. The woman moved fast for her advanced age, her rounded bum shifting from side to side as she climbed the stairs. “Ye room be just down this hall, miss. We be happy ta have ye.”

  A large set of double doors lay at the end of the hall, but the housekeeper stopped before reaching them and turned to a single wooden door instead. Mrs. Hutchins flipped the latch and pushed the door wide. It was difficult for Adeline to remove her stare from the imposing double doors at the end of the all, despite the housekeeper’s attempt to gain her attention once more.

  “Ye be comfortable here.” She gestured for Adeline to enter. “Ye things be brought straight away, miss.”

  “Thank you,” Adeline mumbled, stepping into the room.

  There was not a speck of dust anywhere, yet the furnishings and draperies appeared to be decades old. The sconces on the walls were already lit, and the drapes were pulled back, giving her a view of the storm beyond. Could it be that Lord Ailesbury kept this room ready in case a guest happened upon Faversham Abbey?