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 join 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 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 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.

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.