Page 27 of Adeline

Would he admit the overwhelming need to save Grovedale, his deep-rooted need to make certain the tragedy that’d taken his own parents did not happen to one of his servants? He’d been a young boy, but their death had altered his life in ways a child couldn’t understand. But to lose a spouse? Jasper shuddered to think of the heartbreak Emily, his dedicated maid at the Abbey, would have endured had Grovedale not been rescued. Nor would he dwell on the repercussions within the village as a whole if more locals died because of Jasper and his family name.

Hell, Jasper had never forgiven himself for his lack of strength during that stable fire, but now he was a man. A man who’d worked tirelessly for years to build his strength so as not to ever fail another again.

No one under his protection would perish if Jasper had anything to say about it. Including the foolish woman before him, her body now wracked with shivers from the cold rain and heavy winds.

“We should return to the Abbey, immediately.” Jasper didn’t wait for her to answer, nor give any thought to the villagers departing without so much as a kind look in his direction. Had Miss Adeline noticed the group’s outright fear of him? “I will collect my horse and assist you up onto yours. Remain here, I will return in a moment.”

At his hard stare, she nodded.

Turning, Jasper made his way toward the side of the building where he’d tethered his steed, making certain to keep his distance from the remaining villagers. There was no need to draw attention to their strained relationship if Miss Adeline hadn’t already taken note of the peculiar way the townsfolk avoided the Beast of Faversham.

“M’lord?” a thin voice called at his back.

Jasper’s first instinct was to keep moving, collect his horse, and be gone from the plant—Miss Adeline safely at his side. He had no interest in a confrontation with a villager regarding anything that’d happened that day. He only longed to return to the Abbey, be out of the cold, don dry clothes, and serve himself a tumbler of Scotch.

And so, Jasper lowered his head and continued toward his horse.

“Lord Ailesbury!” the man persisted.

Jasper slowed and turned toward the vaguely familiar voice. Grovedale walked—or rather hobbled—to keep up with Jasper’s pace. Jasper stopped when he saw the man’s struggles. He was injured and in need of a physician…and several days’ rest.

“Grovedale. You should find your way home. I can have the cart and horses readied for your trip if needed.” Jasper attempted to keep his stare focused on the man’s face and not his clutched arm and lame leg—nor the blood slowly seeping through the man’s trousers. “I will send the physician posthaste. And your wife, as soon I return to the Abbey.”

“I—“ The man’s eyes clouded, though if they were true tears or only the runoff from the rain dripping down his face, Jasper was uncertain. “Thank ye, m’lord, for save’n me. I be eternally in your debt.”

Grovedale lowered his head and placed his good arm across his chest, his hand clenched in a tight fist.

“No, it is I who owes you,” Jasper countered. “I should have had those walls checked years—“

“No, m’lord.” Grovedale vigorously shook his head. “It be me. I shouldn’t have been work’n at all. Ye shut the plant down for a reason.”

“Be that as it may, I am still responsible for your injuries. I will make certain the physician is at your disposal, and Emily has a fortnight off. And you can take as much leave as needed until you are recovered.”

“But we can’t be do’n that. We’ll starve, m’lord.”

Jasper slashed his hand through the air, halting the man’s protest. “Everything will be taken care of, Grovedale. Rest, and keep Emily close. That is what I demand of you right now.”

“Yes, m’lord.” Grovedale bowed, taking a step back, bowing once more. His face contorted in pain the entire time. “Ye be too kind, m’lord.”

“It is what any lord should do for his people,” he countered. “Now, be off. Watson has arrived with the cart.”

The servant turned slowly and hobbled back toward the waiting villagers, all avoiding Jasper, their backs to him as they greeted Watson and prepared to load Grovedale.

He’d told himself for years it was better this way. He was Lord Ailesbury. He was the master of Faversham Abbey. He was the owner of Home Works. There was no requirement that these people be his friends, or he theirs. Though that had never stopped the terrified, lonely little boy inside him from longing to return the relationship between his family and the people of Faversham to what it had once been—before the fire, the many deaths, and Jasper’s disfigurement.

The rain had lessened at some point during his conversation with Grovedale, the winds even relenting slightly as the clouds parted overhead.

That did not decrease his need to see Miss Adeline home…err, to the Abbey, before she fell ill from the cold.

Jasper untethered his mount and turned to retrace his steps through the gathering mud to where she waited, except she wasn’t where he’d left her. Instead, she was a few paces from where he and Grovedale had been speaking a moment before, only her triumphant smile at his bravery had disappeared. Her hand was now pressed to her chest, fingers splayed as her mouth hung open.

Shock? Amazement? Adoration?

He hadn’t the slightest notion what expression she tried to convey—or, far worse, what she’d overheard during his conversation with Grovedale.

* * *

Jasper dismounted at the front door of the Abbey, only pausing for a moment to see that a footman assisted Miss Adeline from her mare before he strode toward the house. He was a sopping, muddy, filthy mess, and she was little better. As they rode back in silence, chills had set in, making it increasingly difficult for him to keep his hold on the reins.