Adeline Read online

  At Faversham, Adeline was faced with a man who’d seen true horror and devastation. She did not know the extent of his hardships, but what she’d overheard at the plant had been enough to allow her to see the folly of her recent actions.

  A fire had taken Lord Ailesbury’s parents and left him marred, forever burdened with the lasting scars of what had transpired. She sensed she knew him better than before, but also, not at all. Even his given name was still a mystery to her. Why did he keep himself secluded here at the Abbey, and what had happened after his parents’ deaths? Surely, he must have been taken care of by someone other than servants, possibly sent away to school as she’d been—though for utterly opposite reasons.

  She’d spoken of her father’s death during their hunting excursion, yet he’d kept his own past close, refusing to speak about it with her. They were strangers, two people forced into one another’s lives due to the storm. He hadn’t sought her out, selected her because of some connection between them, nor had he given any impression that he’d been happy to welcome her as a guest into his home.

  The fact was, she’d been forced upon him. And as a gentleman, Lord Ailesbury had taken the honorable path: offered her safe, dry lodging, ample food, and the promise of a repaired coach.

  Adeline pulled the blanket more securely around her shoulders as her teeth threatened to chatter again. If only she could move closer to the hearth, gain a bit of the warmth offered by the roaring fire; however, she sensed Lord Ailesbury was in far greater need of the heat than she.

  A loud crack of thunder rattled the windowpanes, and Ailesbury’s eyes snapped open, their olive-green hue turning as vibrant as the lightning streak outside as they flashed in her direction.

  “Lord Ailesbury—” Her fingers tightened their hold until her knuckles ached.

  His glare narrowed on her as his shoulders straightened once more and he shifted to face her. His chin lifted at the same time his hands landed on his hips, and he frowned. For a brief second, Adeline could have sworn another battle raged in his eyes, as if the earl debated his next move until, ultimately, he held firmly to his anger.

  He did not blink, did not shift his glare away from her or relax his posture as they stared at one another.

  And Adeline held her breath, fearing if she made so much as the smallest movement, the spell freezing them both to their spots would evaporate, and Lord Ailesbury would demand she leave his library.

  With agonizing slowness, his cold stare left hers and traveled down her body, the riding habit clinging to Adeline’s every curve. Leisurely, he took in the sight of her, his chilly glare melting as he once again stared her straight in the eyes.

  He dared her to move.

  He taunted her to speak.

  He challenged her to so much as take the deep breath her aching lungs demanded.

  The silence between them was louder than any tempest.

  Lord Ailesbury held her stare, wordlessly demanding she turn and depart the room or face the consequences of her lack of action.

  Yet, Adeline would not back down. She would not cower in fear and run for safety. She knew enough about the man before her to know he would never cause her injury or harm. There was nothing for Adeline to fear in the earl’s presence.

  Nothing about the man scared her, least of all his physical scars.

  They did not influence her opinion of him in any way.

  What did change everything was what she’d learned about his past.

  Adeline hadn’t any idea why she purposefully disobeyed his command and followed him into the library, silently closing them both in together…alone.

  But at that precise moment, with the fire crackling in the hearth behind him and the storm subsiding outside, Adeline had no doubts why she’d come to this room—to this man.

  They had lived a thousand lifetimes together in the last day.

  She’d born witness to his commitment to his servants, his people, and his land.

  He’d rescued her from the storm along that deserted road. He’d rushed to her aid when the windowpane shattered in the dining hall. He’d watched with a measure of pride as she’d shown him her skill with a bow. And she’d stood by with her own sense of pride as he saved Grovedale from certain death. She’d also had to stand by and watch the villagers treat him as if he were an outsider, a pariah, a man who did not belong on his own land.

  And for what?

  She’d wanted to demand answers of them all. She’d longed to rail against the injustice of it all. If the earl hadn’t spotted her and quickly brought her back to the Abbey, Adeline might have confronted the lot of them—and given them the sharp reprimand and scolding they so richly deserved.

  The blanket slipped from her shoulders, cascading down her body to pool at her feet, and Adeline stepped toward him.

  One step.

  Two steps.

  Three.

  Short, unhurried paces made difficult by the immense weight of the riding habit she wore.

  How had she not noticed the nearly crippling heaviness of the garment before now?

  Four steps.

  Lord Ailesbury’s stare shifted from cold and narrowed to widened confusion as he matched her step for step.

  However, as she moved closer, he moved away until his shoulders pressed into the mantel above the hearth.

  …as if he were terrified of her.

  Chapter 12

  As if by some grand scheme concocted by a deity Jasper had no belief in—and likely one that cared not a whit for him—Miss Adeline Price not only stood before him but proceeded to walk his way. His entire body stiffened when the blades at his shoulders came into contact with the rough wood of the hearth mantel.

  The blanket his housekeeper had set about the woman’s shoulders lay forgotten by the door.

  Adeline strode toward him, all confidence with a sensual sway to her hips.

  Did she always saunter thusly?

  Jasper wracked his memory in an attempt to determine how he hadn’t noticed the woman’s allure before this moment.

  Certainly, he had not been completely unaware of Adeline’s beauty.

  However, finding a woman beautiful and longing to strip every inch of clothing from her body were indubitably different things. Only a moment before, he’d been questioning the look he’d seen in her eyes outside the plant—convinced he’d misread everything he’d seen.

  Jasper hadn’t misread anything. All the confirmation he needed was right before him in Adeline’s stance, mirroring his from a moment before. Uplifted chin, penetrating glare, and purposeful air. Those were his mechanisms…his tricks…to send her fleeing the room in fear of what the Beast of Faversham would do next.

  The foolish woman had used his intimidating position against him, driving Jasper back in fear.

  But what did he fear, precisely?

  What didn’t he fear, was a far more appropriate question.

  He feared his need to have Adeline at Faversham Abbey, even when she was but a stranger who’d been stranded alongside the road. He feared his intense reactions to her—both anger and lust—and the control he felt slipping with each breath. And what he feared most of all…watching the woman depart Faversham, which would happen at first light. It had to happen. There was no other choice for either of them.

  The sooner, the better…for all concerned.

  The last thing Jasper wanted was the woman overhearing something she had no business knowing. Or asking questions on subjects he had no answers for.

  She stalked toward him, the shadow cast by his body and the fire shrouding her in mystery though her eyes held none. Suddenly, she was the hunter and he the prey. Why did that suit him so?

  Halting several paces from him, Adeline bent at the waist and slid her hand under the lounge. When she straightened once more, a smirk upon her plump lips, she held his forgotten tumbler. For the life of him, Jasper could not remember setting the thing down, let alone it having rolled under the lounge.

  She set the glas
s on the low table before the chaise and returned her stare to his as she continued toward him.

  Belatedly, Jasper realized his folly in not escaping when she’d been preoccupied retrieving the glass.

  “May I ask you a question, Lord Ailesbury?” Her voice was so soft it could barely be heard over the crackling fire at his back.

  “Jasper,” he mumbled.

  “Pardon?” Her brow furrowed, and her pace slowed.

  “My name, it is Jasper.” It had only been with Adeline’s arrival that his servants took to calling him anything but his given name.

  “Jasper.” The single word dripped like honey from her lips, the corner of her mouth notching up. “Jasper,” she repeated, her hooded, hazel eyes scanning him from head to toe as he had with her after realizing he wasn’t alone in the room.

  No one in his employ spoke his name with such reverence.

  At that moment, he thought he would answer her any question—travel the earth ten times over, journey to the sun, and die of thirst in the Sahara, if only to find the information she longed to know.

  “Tell me what happened to your family,” she whispered. “The villagers…they spoke of unimaginable things.”

  A jolt of pain so powerful he nearly fell to his knees spiked his chest, and his breath left him in a rush. It was something he and his servants lived every day knowing, yet never spoke of. It was the cloud that had descended on all of Faversham all those years ago, one that had never lifted, never cleared, never faded. They’d all gotten so used to the darkness and their beast, that no one sought the light any longer. At least not since Jasper’s aunt had died. She’d been the only spot of sunshine in all of Faversham, never allowing her shine to dim no matter the mourning that continued around her.

  “Please, tell me what happened to your parents.” Adeline moved toward him again but stopped when Jasper flinched. “Who raised you? Why are you here, in this huge home, all by yourself?”

  Why had he thought the woman would come and go, letting him escape being forced to face all these question—the heart of his past? Though Jasper was certain his heart had stopped beating when he was unable to save his parents, their servants, and the horses from the fire that had consumed the Faversham stable.

  He didn’t want to discuss this, especially with Adeline. It was a burden he never would have wished to place on her shoulders, for it was his and his alone. Yet, her concerned stare drew the words from him.

  “My mother and father perished in a fire that claimed the lives of several Faversham servants along with a half-dozen horses.” When she remained silent, and whatever vice had held tight to his chest a moment before began to lessen, allowing him to breathe, he continued. “My paternal uncle and his wife came to the Abbey and saw to my upbringing.”

  Not a hint of pity or judgment shadowed her face. “Your scars...” With each word she spoke, Adeline kept her eyes on his. “They are from the fire.”

  No question, meaning no denial was needed on his part. “Yes.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.” Jasper swallowed to keep the sob within him, not daring to say another word, lest his voice tremble as much as his body did.

  He’d spoken enough, shared more than he planned, but he would comment no more on the subject.

  Jasper would not confess that it was all his fault: the fire, the deaths, and the continuing distrust of the villagers. If he hadn’t had a habit of staying up late, reading by candlelight in the rafters, his parents would never have come looking for him in the stables. Yet, that night it hadn’t been his candle to set the blaze, nor had he been in the stables when the fire commences. Though, from the reaction of the servants, Jasper might as well have been completely to blame.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She took the final step toward him and reached out to take his hand. Her skin was soft, and warm, despite her still damp clothing. She must have removed her gloves when they returned. Jasper hadn’t noticed. What he did know was that her delicate caress was not meant for him. In no realm of possibility had Jasper done enough to deserve the innocent, pure touch of an unblemished lady. “I cannot imagine—“

  He cleared his throat, shrugging away her hold on his hand. “Let us not imagine it at all.”

  He turned toward the hearth, his forehead only inches from the mantel, but the warmth was welcome. The look of injury certain to overtake her at his refusal to speak further on the subject was not something Jasper wanted to see, let alone attempt to withstand.

  Something about Adeline had Jasper silently vowing to not let her down. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but he had no choice but to turn away from her. It was for her own good, even if she didn’t understand.

  “Your aunt and uncle are kind people?”

  “Were,” he corrected. “And yes, they were the kindest, most caring relatives an orphaned child could ever hope for. They made certain I wasn’t alone and saw to my education.”

  “What University did you attend?”

  That she’d latched on to the change in topic both surprised and unsettled him, bringing him around to face her. “My educational needs were attended to here at the Abbey.”

  Adeline retreated as a spark of unease filled her eyes at his harsh tone. A measure of guilt coiled around his chest. It was not her fault that the mere thought of his past filled him with an overpowering need to escape, to flee, to…hide.

  “They passed away years ago—my aunt when I was seventeen, and my uncle when I was twenty-two.” He pushed through the pain, needing to repair the damage he’d done a moment before. “They prepared me well for my responsibilities as the lord and master of Faversham Abbey. I have everything I need, and seek to provide well for those who depend on the Ailesbury Earldom.”

  It was Adeline who turned away next, pacing to the lounge. She seemed to debate something in her head before deciding there was no harm and lowering herself to sit. She crossed her ankles and slid them under her as she folded her hands in her lap. It was all a dramatic show, the stilted conversation grounding to a halt as she arranged her skirts and refolded her hands.

  Too late, Jasper realized the woman was making herself comfortable as if she expected the candid conversation to continue, and her time at Faversham was little more than an afternoon social call. Adeline seemed to forget that she still wore her borrowed wet habit and that her hair hung loosely down her back and over her shoulders.

  “What of your responsibilities in parliament?” she asked.

  It was difficult for a man to assume such duties when all his time was spoken for in Kent. “I have yet to accept my seat as there are many things that keep me otherwise engaged here in the country.” She seemed to allow his words to sink in. “I have always meant to one day travel to London. However, the—“

  “You’ve never been to London?” she asked.

  The truth of the matter was far more shocking than she knew. “Since my parents’ deaths, I have not traveled more than an hour’s ride from Faversham Abbey.”

  Her mouth fell open, and her shoulders tensed. “What of holiday trips?” He shook his head. “Meetings with advisors, vendors, and clients for Home Works?” Again, he gave his head a firm shake.

  “My father’s solicitor, Barclay, visits Faversham twice a year. He handles outside investors and the export of gunpowder from the plant.”

  “Have you never been to a proper London ball? The opera or playhouse?”

  “No, I fear I am a mere country squire who has no knowledge of town life.”

  “May I ask why?” She stared up at him from her seat on the lounge, but her eyes held no pity, only interest.

  “At first, it was to keep me from the prying eyes of those who would gossip and speak disparagingly about me until my burns healed. However, with time came the scars, the villagers’ gossip, and my aunt’s never-ending need to protect the boy she loved as a son.”

  “And so you rarely left Faversham.”

  “And so, I never left Faversham Abbey or
Ailesbury land until after my aunt’s death.”

  “Not so far as even the village?”

  He shook his head. “No, though I tried once. I’d heard from Mrs. Hutchins that the merchant in town was hosting a grand Christmastide gathering at his home. I hid in the stables until my Aunt Alice and Uncle Bartholomew had retired and took to their room. I slipped from my hiding spot and ran toward the village, or at least the direction I assumed the village lay in, but I was met by nothing but never-ending fields, rolling meadows, and eventually, a creek. I was cold, exhausted, and hungry by the time I finally found my bed at daybreak.”

  Jasper snapped his mouth shut before admitting he’d cried himself to sleep—and then lied to his aunt about how he’d caught the cold that plagued him for an entire fortnight.

  “I know now that even on that wild, reckless night, I never left Ailesbury land.”

  “I am certain they only sought to protect you,” she murmured.

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” Especially after learning the villagers had taken to calling him the Beast of Faversham.

  A light knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” Jasper commanded.

  “Watson, my lord,” Abbington announced, stepping aside to allow the Faversham stable master into the room before departing.

  “Watson.” Jasper clasped his hands behind his back, relishing the warmth on his bare palms. “I hope Grovedale arrived home safely.”

  “Yes, m’lord,” Watson said, glancing at Adeline and quickly back to Jasper, uncertain if he should acknowledge the woman’s presence—alone—in the library with his master. “And the physician quickly after. The man be mostly unscathed, just sore.”

  “Very good.” It was the best news Jasper had heard all day.

  “But I be here about Miss Adeline’s coach.” He risked another glance to where Adeline remained seated and quiet. “Good eve, Miss Adeline.”

  Adeline smiled, and Watson blushed.

  “Good evening to you, too, Watson.” Jasper marveled at her decorum as she nodded a greeting to his servant. If there had been tea, she would have poured the bloody man a steaming cup. “Many thanks for seeing the man home. I hope Emily arrived at her husband’s side, as well.”