Adeline entered the Faversham kitchen, happy to see Emily’s familiar face as she and two other servants carried in the morning’s spoils. It was a room normally dominated by servants and off-limits to the master’s family—at least in her family homes—however, Adeline was a guest, and she was uncertain what to do to occupy her time until Lord Ailesbury summoned her to depart. In other cases, she would have sought a restorative walk about the property, but the intensity of the storm was increasing once more, and she had little urge to wander the Abbey alone. Besides, while snooping around Lord Ailesbury’s home would have, at one time, felt like an adventure, since gaining a certain understanding of the man, she saw it as more of an invasion of his privacy than anything else.

And so, she strolled through the foyer, down a corridor, and toward the only sounds she could hear.

Of course, the kitchen was the liveliest room in any home.

Which was certainly why her parents had specifically forbidden all of her siblings from partaking in any rousing activity to be had within the room.

Adeline was not forbidden to enter the kitchen at Faversham Abbey.

“Good day, miss,” Emily called, lifting a large bird onto a table at the back of the room. “Ye and the master sure did spear three plump turkeys. It be true ye took down the first?”

Adeline laughed, walking to where the servants struggled to lift the second bird. “Gossip certainly travels fast at Faversham.”

All three women turned open-eyed stares on her. Even Cook, who hadn’t paused in her stirring of a large pot to greet Adeline, pivoted to face the commotion at the back of her kitchen.

“No, miss,” Emily rushed, hurrying over to Adeline. “No one be gossip’n—“

Adeline smiled at the women, who one by one allowed their terrified expressions to overtake their faces and their gazes to drop to the floor. “I certainly did not mean to insult anyone here or insinuate that you spoke out of turn.” She grasped Emily’s hands, and the servant stiffened at the contact. “Besides, I am a firm believer that gossip is never all negative. In fact, if it were not for the wagging tongues of London, my dear friend, Theodora, would not have admitted her love for my brother, scoundrel that he is.”

“I only overhead m’lord speak’n ta the stable master of ye skill with a bow.”

“He mentioned me?” It took four sets of eyes narrowing in her direction before Adeline realized she’d spoken the thought aloud. For one of the first times in her life, a deep blush overtook her. “I meant my skill. Yes, my skill. Lord Ailesbury was certainly dubious to have me accompany him.”

“Aw, well,” Cook chimed in. “Ye certainly showed him ye worth, yes ye did. It do the lad well ta be put in his place, if only e’er once in a while.”

Emily, along with the two other maids, broke out in a fit of giggles. Adeline was helpless to stop herself from joining in.

“It was rather satisfying to see the astonishment on Lord Ailesbury’s stuffy face when I took down that turkey.” They all laughed once more. An odd bout of homesickness struck Adeline—not so much for her family but for her closest friends. It was usually Josie, Georgie, and Theo who commonly brought Adeline’s laughter. Though, as of last year, Theo had become family when she wed Adeline’s eldest brother.

Adeline glanced through the open kitchen door, past the meager gardens, and to the stable yard beyond in time to see Lord Ailesbury run back into the structure and flee on his horse in the direction they’d ridden earlier.

The hairs at her nape stood on end. She need not be close to know something was amiss.

Shouts could be heard as one of the servants called for horses—for him and another man—as Maxwell ran toward the kitchen, where Adeline stood. All stares in the room focused on the commotion in the yard, the activity in no way lessened by the storm.

When Maxwell skidded through the door and into the room, he glanced about, but for whom or what, Adeline could not tell.

“Maxwell.” Adeline rushed forward as the man’s shallow breaths turned ragged. “Where is Lord Ailesbury headed in such a hurry?”

“A man, Grovedale…he is trapped at the plant.”

“Grovedale?” Emily shrieked, her head shaking from side to side. “Ye be certain that be the name?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maxwell confirmed. “The stable master sent me ta get Abbington. He needs ta summon a physician to the plant. Now!”

At some point, Mrs. Hutchins had entered the kitchens, witnessing the spectacle. “I’ll find my husband,” she called, turning and rushing from the room.

“But where is Lord Ailesbury going?” Adeline demanded, giving Maxwell a solid shake.

“He and the others be go’n ta lift the wall from the man.”

Then Maxwell pulled from her grasp and hurried to follow Mrs. Hutchins in her search for the Faversham butler.

Emily wailed, falling into Cook’s waiting arms as the portly woman patted the maid’s back. She cooed her reassurances that all would be fine. Lord Ailesbury would save her husband; she was certain of it.

It gave Adeline enough time to slip out the door and run toward the stables. With any luck, her mare would still be saddled, and she’d be on her way long before anyone noticed she was gone. Luck was on her side when she pushed through the downpour of rain into the stables. Everyone was in motion, stable hands and servants saddling every available horse for the journey to the plant. She knew the place they spoke of as it was not far beyond the wooded area she and the earl had hunted in. It was the large building she’d seen from her bedchamber window when the lightning struck, illuminating the intimidating facade in the distance, as Mrs. Hutchins had informed her.

Her mare stood, tied to a post, to the left of her damaged carriage.

Glancing around, Adeline searched for a box or stepping stone to help her up into the sidesaddle without requiring assistance from one of the servants. Any of them would likely demand she remain at the Abbey, and she could not risk that.

Adeline could be of use at the plant, especially since the servants were still rushing about, readying horses. If she were there quickly enough, her assistance could prove useful. Her mare was saddled and prepared to depart immediately.

A small wooden box stood along the far wall behind where the mare was tied. Adeline rushed over and peeked inside.

Oats and grains for the livestock, but it was only a third of the way full.

She braced herself and pushed the box, nearly falling to her knees when the thing slid across the hard-packed dirt with ease. Once in place, she leapt onto it and into her saddle. The mare skidded sideways, unprepared for her weight, and Adeline was able to untie the reins. She pulled the horse around and followed the same path Lord Ailesbury had taken out of the stables and then she turned sharply. Kicking her horse into a run, Adeline reached the meadow, but Ailesbury was already out of sight. The gunpowder plant lay to the north of the woods, only a short ride away, yet the drowning rain and unrelenting gusts pounded her face. The wind wildly caught her hair as the cord Lord Ailesbury had given her loosened and disappeared in her wake.

The storm thundered overhead, and the rain began to soak clear through her thick riding habit, yet Adeline pushed on, finally arriving at a road. She rubbed the rain from her eyes, certain the area was familiar. It was the road her carriage had been stranded on. The large structure, not far from that point, would have been hidden by the darkness the night before.

As she grew ever closer, the building appeared abandoned—a relic of past times when the war demanded production of gunpowder and explosives at an alarming rate. Adeline knew of the plant only because Miss Emmeline’s father had gained employment at Home Works while the British fought valiantly to vanquish Napoleon. Now, the structure appeared aged and weathered, half shielded by a grove of trees.

Adeline nestled her face against the mare’s neck, shielding herself from the worst of the storm as the road curved, leading her into a large area of open ground. A gathering of people, clustered about a small outbuilding attached to the main plant, had Adeline pulling her horse to a stop.

Her pulse drummed in her head as she slid to the muddy ground.

No one noticed her arrival as she ran toward the crowd, pushing her way to the front. The sheer number of people gathered made her think the entire village had come. The able-bodied men, with Lord Ailesbury in their midst, attempted to lift a large piece of wood. Even from her vantage point, Adeline noted that the heavy wall would not budge, no matter how much the group strained.

Adeline glanced to the people surrounding her, their torches held high, all fighting to remain lit, and marveled at the community’s dedication. In her experience, it was peculiar for a man to even so much as pause to help another in trouble, let alone an entire village braving a tempest with ferocious winds and penetrating, ice-cold rain to do so. Everyone stood in muted silence as the men struggled to get to the man trapped beneath the fallen wood free.

Every grunt from the men, the soft crying of a child in the crowd, and the uneasy neighing of her horse echoed in her head as Adeline stood motionless. She’d been senseless to think she could help Ailesbury in any way. Her chest tightened in pain as a man slipped, his feet sinking into the mud as his side of the wooden wall fell.

“I canna believe the Beast of Faversham allowed such a thing ta happen—and ta Grovedale. It is a fair shame, it is,” an elderly woman hissed to another woman next to Adeline. “If that not be grave enough, the man stalks the plant, push’n the men ta work e’er harder.”

“Ye cannot be blame’n the Beast for this. He could not know what was ta happen.” The woman pulled the crying toddler into her arms as they fell back into silence while they watched the rescue efforts.

The Beast of Faversham?

They could not be speaking of Lord Ailesbury. Sure, his body was marred, but that did not mean his soul was corrupted, as well. The earl was present…just as all the villagers were, putting forth his best effort to extract Grovedale from beneath the wood that trapped him.

“Must be awfully terrify’n for the lord,” another whispered on Adeline’s other side, but she did not remove her stare from the men before her. “The tragedy of lose’n his ma and pa in that fire, and now another—”

“It not be the same at all, Louisa,” a man argued. “That fire kilt not only his sires but his servants and horses, too. The Beast be blessed ta have escaped with his life, scars or no.”

Adeline focused on Lord Ailesbury, his voice rising above the din of the storm, calling for the men to work together. He’d removed his coat at some point, and the muscles of his broad shoulders flexed against the thin linen shirt he wore, wet and sticking to his back. The tendons in his neck strained as the group lifted again. His raw, unrestrained strength was utterly captivating.

With a collective grunt, the men heaved again, but only Lord Ailesbury’s side moved, revealing a two-foot gap.

“Rathers!” Ailesbury shouted through gritted teeth. “Pull him free.”

A young man, certainly a year or two younger than Adeline, crawled through the mud and slipped his hand under the wood. When Rathers yelled, two men stepped forward and pulled the young man back by his feet.

“Hurry.” Ailesbury strained to hold the wooden wall up, his knuckles turning white and his eyes closed tightly as he concentrated. He could drop the wall and forever trap the man beneath. Adeline had never felt an ounce of the terror that surged through her in that moment.

Very likely, she’d never forget it.

A cheer erupted when the trapped man slid out behind Rathers, their hands clasped tightly.

Lord Ailesbury had saved the day!

The men dropped the wall, the wood letting out a groan as it settled into the muck created by the rain.

Adeline had been so intent on the scene before her, she hadn’t realized her entire body trembled from the cold.

Men knelt around the injured man, but the earl remained separate from the crowd, pushing forward to congratulate the villagers who’d helped rescue Grovedale. Oddly, no one went to thank Lord Ailesbury, or so much as even looked in his direction to ask about his condition. The vast width and thickness of the wooden wall told Adeline it was heavy, indeed. If it weren’t for the earl, Grovedale might have perished in the mud beneath.

Finally, Ailesbury turned toward the villagers but made no move to join them.

A little boy shrank back and began to cry when he saw the earl watching the group as they huddled around Grovedale. The boy’s mother pulled the lad close and shushed him.

Several townsfolk cast nervous glances in the earl’s direction before turning away, as if afraid to be caught gawking.

But then, a young girl escaped a woman’s hold and rushed to Ailesbury—casting her thin arms about his legs. Adeline was too removed to note the girl’s words but her beaming smile was enough.

Ailesbury responding frown also spoke volumes as the woman hurried over to collect the child, careful to keep her eyes trained on the ground and never meeting Lord Ailesbury’s intense stare.

The realization struck Adeline then: the villagers were terrified of Lord Ailesbury.

But, why?

Adeline had no time to consider the question because the earl scanned the crowd, his glare stopping on her.

In that moment, she wondered if it wouldn’t have been wiser for her to fear Lord Ailesbury, as well—perhaps just a bit.

He cast a fearsome picture as he skirted the villagers and stomped in her direction, his narrowed glare keeping her rooted to where she stood.