Page 25 of Adeline

“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.