Canterbury, England

March, 1827

Miss Adeline Price leaned out the carriage window and waved enthusiastically at her two youngest sisters—Arabella and Ainsley—as they stood before Miss Emmeline’s School of Education and Decorum for Ladies of Outstanding Quality, their trunks stacked on either side of them with their new frocks, cloaks, and hair ribbons dancing in the light afternoon breeze.

Only recently out of mourning after the death of their father the previous year, the girls were reluctant to leave the family home, but at least they had one another—and at fifteen, Arabella was far older than most young ladies when they arrived in Canterbury. Adeline had not been so lucky when she was cast from the family home after her childish antics and placed on the mail coach headed to the wilds of Kent, after which she was unceremoniously dumped along the main road at the end of the drive leading to Miss Emmeline’s School.

This was a new beginning for the pair, a true gift from Alistair, though it pained Adeline to admit it. Sad to see her dear sisters deposited at school, Adeline knew they would return women, ready for whatever society threw in their direction.

She gave one final look at her sisters, their long, light brown locks hanging in identical curls over their shoulders. If she were closer, she’d also note their matching hazel eyes—the same as every Melton sibling…all nine of them. Arabella’s new gown hung to the tops of her kid boots while Ainsley, only having recently turned twelve, wore a frock that hit her at mid-calf. There was little doubt the pair was scared and nervous about being away from London, but Adeline was certain the girls would settle in nicely and make friends to last a lifetime—as she’d found in Josie, Georgie, and Theo.

The dust from her departing carriage blocked her sisters from view as a single drop of rain landed on Adeline’s nose. A storm was rolling in quickly, and she was glad she’d deposited the girls before the tempest hit full force. She now hurried back toward Rochester where they’d stayed at a small inn the night before.

“I do hope we make it to our lodgings before Maxwell catches his death out there,” Adeline’s maid, Poppy, sighed. “I have heard the squalls in these parts can bring ruthless winds and merciless rain.”

“Maxwell has been driving for nearly five years. I assure you, he is not daunted by a bit of rain and wind.” Adeline couldn’t help but smile at Poppy, her auburn hair tucked under her cap and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She’d met the young girl several months prior when she slipped from her home to meet Josie and Georgie for their morning archery practice in Regent’s Park. Poppy had been selling oranges, and Adeline had witnessed a man’s cruel threats to her person. She’d come home with Adeline that very day… and had been tasked with assisting all five Melton girls. Where Poppy attained her cultured speaking habits and refined manners, she would not say.

All the same, Adeline, Adelaide, Amelia, Arabella, and Ainsley had been overjoyed to have her in residence.

“Besides, it is a short three-hour jaunt, at most,” Adeline reassured the girl. “We may be able to outrun the worst of the storm and be settled in our room long before the unrelenting rains begin.”

“If you say so, miss.”

“Thankfully, I do say so, Poppy,” Adeline replied with a chuckle. “And we both know what I say holds much power.”

The girl grinned and turned her gaze to her lap.

Adeline settled in for the long ride back to Rochester, the halfway point between Canterbury and London.

Heavens, but Adeline could not fathom her father allowing her to travel to Canterbury alone on the mail coach all those years ago. She shuddered to think of the malefic things that could have happened to her. She’d been barely twelve and without a proper chaperone. What had the late Viscount Melton been thinking?

However, it took little time to guess exactly what her elderly father had been thinking—ending the war that had raged inside their home for years. Adeline and Alistair had clashed since they were old enough to toddle about the house. Alistair would cut all her hair ribbons, and Adeline would fill his bed with frogs. Her eldest brother would dump a pie from the second-story landing onto her head, and Adeline would retaliate by coating the stairs with soap. Unfortunately, it had been their father, already far past his prime, who’d taken the long fall down the grand staircase, and not Alistair or even Abel, Adeline’s younger brother.

Alistair had been the heir apparent, and Adeline merely a girl.

The decision had been simple. She would have made precisely the same choice.

Adeline had to go in order to restore order to the Melton household—if there had ever been true order within their home.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, focusing on all that had changed in the last two years. She’d returned to London to make her debut in society. Her dearest friend, Theodora, had wed her brother, Alistair. Georgie had found love with a childhood friend. Her father had died suddenly, though not unexpectedly. And now, two of her four sisters would be embarking on the journey Adeline had taken at Miss Emmeline’s School.

A year of mourning and Adeline was no longer the nineteen-year-old, innocent debutante she’d once been. Though she was far from a spinster, she was nearing her twenty-first birthday.

The past year had been difficult, to say the least.

Her mother rarely left her private chambers, and quite often, Adeline and her siblings appeared drowsy as they moved about their townhouse. No one argued, no one ran, and no one caused any commotion whatsoever, an oddity for the Melton horde. Adeline had been so crestfallen at the dour cloud over her family that she’d jumped at the chance to travel to a place she’d once loathed.

Alistair, with Theo at his side, was doing his damnedest to support and care for all of his siblings. It weighed heavily on him, and Adeline felt a measure of sorrow. Not enough to heed his every edict, but at least ample pity to undertake the task of seeing her sisters to Canterbury.

A loud, roaring boom sounded outside, and their carriage was filled with a flash of light.

Snapping to attention, Poppy squealed, her eyes widening.

“The storm is intensifying.” True to Adeline’s words, a gust of wind rattled the door, sending a cold rush of air through every crack in the carriage walls. She pulled the cloth back to see rain pelting the window and the dark night beyond. The carriage bounced and jolted as they traveled down the rutted country road, tossing Adeline and Poppy to and fro. “I certainly hope Rochester is not overly far.”

Adeline was uncertain how long she’d spent pondering the past or how far they’d traveled since departing the school. The tempest had settled upon them far swifter than she’d expected—and with a ferocity she’d never witnessed.

“Prepare ye self, Miss Adeline,” Maxwell shouted over the pounding rain as a streak of lightning illuminated the coach once more. “Hold steady!”

The horses neighed into the darkened evening, and the front of the coach dipped, then leapt into the air, and crashed down, sending Adeline and Poppy careening into a heap on the floor between their seats.

“Miss?” Poppy struggled to her knees and then assisted Adeline up. “Are you injured?”

“No, I am not seriously harmed.” Her head had bumped the side of the coach, and her knee had scraped along the edge of the seat. Despite that, she was whole. “And you?”

“Only a might bit scared, miss.”

The lanterns hanging outside the coach had been extinguished sometime during the last several minutes, casting the interior into near total darkness. The storm raging outside, with its heavy raincloud, blocked any chance of light coming from the moon above.

Maxwell pulled the coach door open as Adeline and Poppy arranged themselves on their respective seats.

“The storm done forced me offa the main road.” Maxwell pushed his dripping hair from his forehead as he spoke. “I be think’n we hit a rock and busted somethin’. Though I be need’n ta inspect the damage proper-like.”

“How far are we from Rochester?”

“In this storm?” When she nodded, he continued, “I not be know’n for sure, but me best guess would be another two hours, if not longer, miss.”

“Were are we, Max?” Poppy asked hesitantly.

“Me best guess is between Goodnestone and Ospringes, but as me be say’n, I canna be sure, Miss Poppy.”

“Can we turn back and return to Miss Emmeline’s?” Adeline inquired as the rain splattered on the floor from the open carriage door.

“No.” Maxwell shook his head, flinging more water about. “The roads be team’n with flood water by now.”

“Then what?” she demanded. “We wait here until the storm passes or we float away?”

“Or worse yet, Miss Adeline, we are set upon by highwaymen or,”—Poppy gulped—“wild animals.”

“I do not think any highwayman worth his weight in salt would dare journey out in this gale.” Adeline paused for a moment, pressing her hand to her forehead as she thought through their predicament. The hour was growing increasingly late, the sun already nestled over the far horizon as the clouds continued to develop overhead. Soon, there would be no light left to guide them. “Maxwell, can you take one of the horses and go for help?”

The wind whipped the carriage door from her driver’s hold, slamming it against the side of the coach and allowing more rain and wind inside.

“I not be leave’n ye and Miss Poppy unattended,” he shouted over the wailing wind. “Me lord would have me head if’n anythin’ happened ta ye.”

“Then our best plan would be to fix the bloody carriage and pray we find shelter soon.” Simple enough. Neither she nor Poppy were helpless or useless. “Just instruct us how we can best help you repair the damage to the carriage.”

The driver forced the door partially closed to keep the worst of the storm from entering the interior. “Not certain there is much ta do, even with ye help, miss.”

“Oh, horse brattle,” Adeline said. “If there is anything I’ve learned in the last several years, it is that there is always something that can be done. Now, step aside, and I will have a gander at the damage myself.”

The servant stepped back when Adeline turned her severe stare on him.

She hopped from the conveyance before Maxwell could collect the steps. Her feet sank into the muck up to her ankles as the heavy rain soaked through her cloak and chilled her skin.

Her heart plummeted when her gaze settled on the damaged undercarriage.

As if in response, the rain redoubled its efforts in an unrelenting, ferocious manner, and the wind whipped her skirts about her legs.

“Bloody hell.”