Jasper glanced at the horizon, noting the growing layers of storm clouds that would, with all certainty, travel in their direction shortly. They’d be caught in the coming gale if they did not hurry back. With two turkeys tied securely to his pommel and one on the back of Miss Adeline’s mare, they were ready to depart the wooded area a short ride from Faversham Abbey.

The plan had been for him to take down a turkey before Miss Adeline did aught to frighten the finicky birds away. To Jasper’s continuing befuddlement, the woman had executed a brilliant shot and taken down the first bird. Not to be outdone, he’d shot in rapid succession to take down two more. Not that his estate required three turkeys, but his pride would not allow him to…

He shut his mind down before that train of thought took over. He was not an envious or jealous man. He was not easily prodded into competitions of strength or skill. Especially where a woman was concerned. He’d held his first bow at age six, and he hadn’t expected Miss Adeline’s skill to compare to his in any way—though that was unfair of him. Nonetheless, she’d surprised him with her aim.

More accurately, she’d baffled him completely. He kept his eyes trained on the area before him to keep his reaction hidden. The last thing Jasper needed to do was show the woman he was impressed by her skill.

At some point in their short association, he’d viewed her as helpless and in need of protection. That had been a misguided notion on his part.

“Very well done, Miss Adeline.”

The woman did not so much as bless him with a glance at his words of praise.

He’d need remember to keep any and all acclaim to himself in the future—not that the pair of them had a future.

Standing close to her mount, Miss Adeline attempted to tame her wild hair that had been pulled free of its pins by the wind as they raced across the meadow, but with nothing to secure it, her task was nearly impossible. Jasper didn’t remember his aunt—or his mother—having so much hair. It cascaded over Adeline’s shoulders and down her back, with plenty left over to fall across her face in wild abandon.

They should return to the Abbey with all due haste. With all likelihood, her carriage was repaired and awaiting her departure.

However, something kept him from rushing home.

Jasper untied a length of cord from his quiver and handed it to her. “This may help.”

Miss Adeline stared at the cord he held out to her, her brow furrowed as she continued to struggle with her light brown curls. Finally, she accepted his offer and made quick work of knotting the cord at the base of her neck, giving it a tug to make certain it would hold.

The silence between them seemed to stretch on until Jasper found himself shifting from foot to foot, tugging at his ear, and sweeping his own loose hair from his face. Anything to banish the uncomfortable quiet.

“Did you learn your skill with a bow from your father?” he asked. Why had he asked about her sire—or anything of a personal nature at all? It would open the way of conversation to his own family, and that was something Jasper had no intention of speaking about. “Ummm, I mean to say...”

His words trailed off when her face lit with a smile.

It was obvious to Jasper now that Miss Adeline had been awaiting his praise.

“Heavens, no,” she said, running her hands down her skirts. “My father, the Lord keep his soul, was well into his advanced years when I was born. And while my eldest brother is adequate with a bow, he cannot claim prowess over me.”

“I am sorry to hear that your father is not still unto this earth.” Again with the unwise topic of family, but Jasper would not be a gentleman if he allowed her words to go on without comment. “However, if you did not learn from your father or eldest brother, perhaps another relation?”

“Abel has no interest in sports. If Alfred and Adrian fancied themselves accomplished with a bow, I would not have been present to witness it.” She shrugged, leaning down to retrieve her bow before looking at her mount. The turkey was secured where her bow had been on the ride here.

He wanted to question her more on her skill with a bow; however, it was none of his business.

“You see, I was sent away to an all girl’s school at twelve. My youngest brothers were only eight and five at the time; they were not allowed outdoors with the rest of us.” She paused, some inner debate clouding her face. “I was actually returning to London after escorting my younger sisters, Arabella and Ainsley, to Miss Emmeline’s School of Education and Decorum for Ladies of Outstanding Quality in Canterbury when the storm hit. Do you know the school?”

“No, but my, my, that is certainly a mouthful,” he said with a chuckle.

Her shoulders fell as if disappointed with his answer. “I suspected you might know the place as it is only a short distance from Faversham.”

“I do not travel often.” Or at all.

“Well, to answer your original question, I learned my skill at archery while I was away at school. I and my bosom friends—Theo, Josie, and Georgie—practiced day and night, as there was not much else to occupy the long years.” Miss Adeline stiffened as a loud boom of thunder sounded in the distance. “I think it is time we return to the Abbey.”

“I think that wise.” He took her bow and quiver, along with his, and tied them to the back of his saddle before assisting her onto her horse. “You must miss your friends now that you’ve left the schoolroom.”

She looked down at him from her sidesaddle and laughed. “Oh, my friends are never far, and London is a veritable treasure trove of archery tournaments. I’ve competed in several since my return to town; came close to winning a few, too. However, since my father passed and my brother became Viscount Melton, I have had to assist my mother with caring for the young ones.”

Jasper calculated the years in his head as he turned and mounted his own horse. Miss Adeline could not be more than nineteen, possibly twenty. Her return from school was likely around her seventeenth birthday, or at least his own education told him that debutantes were normally presented to society around that age. Her father must have died quite recently.

“Our time of mourning ended only several weeks back, and my brother, as our guardian, thought it best that Arabella and Ainsley attend school as I did.” She sighed, slouching in her saddle. “It will give my mother a bit of solitude, even though finding the funds for schooling will be difficult.”

For once, Jasper did not curse a woman’s tendency for chatter. If she spoke of her own family, that kept her mind occupied on matters other than his family.

“You have a rather large family.” It wasn’t a question. He spurred his steed into an even trot, allowing Miss Adeline to ride alongside him. “How many siblings have you?”

He glanced at her just as she shook her head and flipped her tied hair back over her shoulder, her brownish gold eyes sparkling with mischief as she began reciting. “Alistair, Abel, me, Adelaide, Amelia, Arabella, Alfred, Adrian, and Ainsley.” She paused and used her free hand to tick off the numbers in her head. “Yes, that is all nine. I must say, sometimes I forget one of us.”

“Nine children?” he said aghast. “Your family could coordinate an entire group of cricket players!”

A single raindrop hit his cheek, but Jasper merely brushed it away. It had been many years since he conversed with someone who knew naught about him and Jasper was unfamiliar with them. The shocking thing was that he was actually enjoying their back and forth.

“Heaven knows my father would have paraded us about in matching attire if he’d thought of it.” She glanced up at the darkening sky, lifting her elegant chin and exposing her swan-like neck to his view. “Alas, it is more likely he would have banded us together to raise our voices in a soft harmony, that is if any of us possessed an ounce of talent. What about you, my lord, any brothers or sisters?”

He swallowed hard, turning his focus to the Abbey in the distance. “I am afraid not.”

“Well, that is likely for the best,” she mumbled. “A horde of siblings can try any person’s patience, even a serene woman such as myself.”

At that, Jasper could not fight his chuckle, though he was hard-pressed to decide if it was due to her comment or the notion of Miss Adeline ever masking herself in serenity.

They fell into a companionable silence as they continued toward Faverhsam, the storm pressing at their backs as the wind increased by the minute. Yet, Jasper was hesitant to speed up their pace. Soon enough, Miss Adeline would depart his estate in her newly repaired carriage, leaving Jasper alone once more.

It was something that had never caused him a moment’s thought or a night’s lost sleep. Jasper was more than accustomed to living alone with only his servants and the few townspeople who did not run in the opposite direction when he approached as companions. His duties at the gunpowder plant and managing his estate kept him busy most days, without time to dwell on his singular lifestyle. Would things have been different if his parents had lived and the opportunity to journey to London was available?

Soon enough, they arrived back in the stable yard, the sight of her dismantled carriage greeting them.

Watson, George, and Miss Adeline’s driver were all crouched next to the conveyance discussing something in hushed tones as Watson pointed at the undercarriage.

Dismounting, Jasper threw the reins to his waiting stable boy, though he did not move fast enough to Miss Adeline to assist her before she slipped to the ground on her own with a grin. He was uncertain what he’d thought London misses to be like, but the woman before him was not as he’d expected.

Exploring the reasoning behind why this made him smile was not high on his list of priorities.

His servants turned toward him, their expressions darkening as they exchanged a look between them.

Jasper made an attempt to wipe the grin from his face. “Have you discovered the damage and what is needed to repair it?”

Watson motioned for him to have a look under the conveyance. As he lowered to his haunches next to the trio, Miss Adeline leaned far over, attempting to gain her own view of the undercarriage.

“It appears the brake push bar has been worn clean through and—“

“Cause’n the reach bars ta dislodge,” Watson finished for him, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Gonna be a might difficult ta repair. Gonna have ta see the blacksmith in town ta retrieve the parts.”

Jasper pushed back to his feet. “Of course, of course,” he sighed, somewhat relieved Miss Adeline would not be departing Faversham only to enter yet another storm. She was safer here. For even if her carriage were mended, there was a high probability it would become damaged again in muddied conditions. “I will begin dismantling the coach further while you seek out the blacksmith.”

A spattering of heavy drops hit the side of the lifted carriage as the storm bore down on the stable yard.

“It be best ta roll the thing inta the stable for cover,” Maxwell, Miss Adeline’s servant, suggested. “The tempest be return’n—and it looks ta be mad as a frog in Lord Melton’s travel’n trunk.”

Miss Adeline burst into laughter at her servant’s remark, as Watson and George looked at him to see if he understood the irony of Maxwell’s words. When Jasper only shrugged, they turned back to their work.

“I suppose I will retire to the house to freshen up.”

“That would be wise,” Jasper replied. “We shall endeavor to have the carriage repaired by noonday and have you on your way then—if the storm allows it.”

“And the turkeys?” she asked.

Bloody hell, he’d all but forgotten about the birds tied to their saddles. “I will send word to Cook, and she will have them brought in.”

Adeline’s stare flitted about the gathering of men before settling once more on Jasper. “Then I suppose I am no longer needed.”

“It was fine having you on the hunt, Miss Adeline,” he said with a curt bow. “I will bring you word shortly regarding the status of the repairs. Oh, and I will have your equipment returned to your room.”

“Thank you, Lord Ailesbury.” She dipped her chin, still stalling her departure to the Abbey when another thunderous boom echoed. Leaping in fright, she turned and hurried to the main house.

Her departure left three sets of eyes following her progress. There would have been a fourth, but Jasper noted Maxwell attending to the woman’s bow and quiver.

“Fine having you on the hunt?” Watson mimicked Jasper’s refined accent.

George slapped his open hand to his mouth to hide his own smirk.

Jasper had expected as much from his servants. “The pair of you were not there to witness it, but Miss Adeline is an expert markswoman. If I told you her skill could, on any given day, best my own, would you believe me?”

“Are ye certain it not be her fine English beauty ye be more taken with, m’lord?” Watson asked. “Because, she be one a the prettiest flowers we be see’n in these parts.”

Jasper’s stomach hardened, and he took a deep breath to stifle his need to rebuff the man’s accusations or, at the very least, demand that he not speak of Miss Adeline in such a scandalous manner.

Instead, he calmed his flash of anger. “Miss Adeline Price is the epitome of a proper London lady. She is above reproach, and will remain as such for the duration of her stay at Faversham Abbey. Make no mistake, the punishment will be swift and severe if I hear word of anything spoken to the contrary where Miss Adeline is concerned.”

Both George and Watson took a step back at Jasper’s curt words.

“Yes, m’lord,” George muttered, keeping his stare on Jasper’s Hessians.

“Of course, m’lord.” Watson waved George back toward the damaged carriage as the rain went from a light falling to a consistent drizzle. “We be get’n ta our duties now. I will hurry ta town as soon as the carriage be outta the storm.”

With the woman disappearing into the house, Jasper turned to assist his men—giving his mind something to concentrate on besides the English beauty waiting inside his home. The fact was, she would be departing as soon as Jasper and his men finished with their task. What was said between them—all she’d shared about her family and friends—and what was not said—anything about his past—would mean nothing to either of them. She would return to London and society, and Jasper would remain in Kent. She would wed a noble lord, and he would care for the people who called Faversham home. Their lives could not be more different from each other.

Jasper ignored the emptiness that resurfaced in his being for the first time in years.

All four men began pushing the carriage toward the open stable doors where a place had been cleared to work. The hay and equipment normally taking up the common area of the stable had been pushed toward the horse stalls to accommodate another conveyance beyond his own coach. The stable boy had led Jasper and Miss Adeline’s horses into the long corridor to the left, preparing to remove their saddles and brush the beasts as was required after each mount was removed from their stall. The kitchen staff must have collected the turkeys; though Jasper hadn’t noticed when.

On the surface, it was a day like any other at Faversham Abbey.

His servants completed their tasks and chores as they always did with their master at their sides. Each man, woman, and child at his estate carried the burden of making certain all was taken care of, and Jasper was no exception. It gave him a sense of fulfillment he would certainly be despondent and empty without—as he’d been immediately after his parents’ deaths and before his aunt and uncle had been summoned to care for the young lordling.

Jasper would never return to that helpless, lost, and broken child.

If it took working until he fell into his bed exhausted without any energy to go on each day, then that was what he was prepared to do.

“M’lord!” Watson rushed back into the stables. Jasper had been so preoccupied, he hadn’t realized the man had departed for the blacksmith’s shop in town. “Jasper! Come look!”

Jasper, along with several other stable hands, ran from the building into the rain.

In the distance, a lone rider on horseback rode at a breakneck speed across the meadow he and Miss Adeline had crossed less than an hour prior. The man arrived in the stable yard within minutes, his mount frothing at the mouth from the hard trek—his rider in no better condition.

Jasper recognized the man as one of the villagers in a position of leadership at the gunpowder plant, yet, Jasper had been very specific that operations at Home Works be shut down for the duration of the storm. The flooding made it nearly impossible for most workers to make the journey to the plant on foot, and it was precarious on horseback. Why ever was the man coming from the direction of the plant and not the village?

The man leapt from his horse, and a stable boy rushed forward to take the reins when the man doubled over, struggling to gasp for breath. “M’lord…Lord Ail…Lord Ailesbury,” the villager stammered.

“Slow it down, Landers.” George stepped forward and patted the man’s back. “What have ye ta say?”

“It be—” Landers took a deep gulp of air, inhaling through his mouth and exhaling through his nose as he stood straight to face Jasper. “It be Grovedale, m’lord. He be trapped at the plant.”

“At the plant?” Jasper demanded, his words laced with both anger and fear. Anger that someone had openly disobeyed his orders, and fear because Jasper knew that Grovedale and his servant, Emily, had wed the year before. “Tell me what happened.”

But Jasper was already running for his own steed and had mounted before Landers said another word.

Ripping the reins from the post they were tied to as the groom had begun tending the horses, Jasper kicked the beast into action and charged from the stables toward the plant. He kept his attention on the uneven ground of the meadow as he allowed his horse his head, the gelding knew the way to the plant as well as Jasper himself.

Never once did he glance over his shoulder to see if his servants followed.

From the fright on Landers’ face, there was no time to think…only time for action.