Page 19 of Adeline

Interesting.

“I am happy you approve,” he growled.

Miss Adeline froze, glancing down the front of her as her face paled.

“I will change immed—“

“Do not bother, Miss Adeline,” he drawled. “It is not your fault the habit was delivered for your use. You could not have known the significance. However, my servants are well aware.”

Jasper had no need to glance upward again because Emily’s gasp had been all he needed to hear. The servants had been warned—if not directly—that their meddling was unwarranted and unwanted.

At least, he was confident there were a few loyal Ailesbury servants not plotting against him. The woman would see soon enough it mattered naught that her attire was suitable and her bow at the ready, if she were unable to keep up when he mounted his steed, she would have no recourse but to remain at the Abbey.

With a satisfied smile, Jasper turned toward the front door as Abbington pulled it wide—revealing not one, but two bloody horses held by none other than his stable master, Watson.

Jasper clenched his jaw to keep from demanding to know why a second horse had been prepared when he’d made his wishes very clear to all involved. The notion of instructing the whole lot of them to pack their possessions and depart Faversham for good would be highly satisfying.

“Which horse shall I ride?” she asked, hurrying past him to coo to each beast in turn as she placed quick kisses to their muzzles.

Bloody hell if that damned riding habit did not cling to her curves as if the blasted thing had been tailored especially for her.

* * *

Adeline glanced sideways at Lord Ailesbury, rigid atop his mount as they cantered across the open meadow behind the Faversham stables in the direction of the wooded area beyond. While the storm clouds had receded to the horizon, an entirely different bank of clouds had settled upon the earl. He’d barely uttered a word after he assisted her onto her horse—a grey mare with an even step and solid stature—but she refused to allow his outright refusal to look at her to dampen her spirits.

This was her first hunt.

No matter that she’d been an unwelcome addition to the hunting party.

Adeline was determined to enjoy herself.

Certainly, she knew she’d one day be invited to take part in a house party that boasted a spirited stage hunt, but she’d never dreamed of hunting with the purpose of feeding an entire household. It was a daunting thought. What if they returned with nothing? Would several servants go without a meal? What if she did something wrong and scared away…bollocks but Adeline wasn’t even aware what exactly they’d be taking aim at.

Fowl? Poultry? Or perhaps something far larger?

She’d never shot her bow from a horse before, especially a moving horse. And what if her target also moved?

If Theo were present, she’d quickly assess all information and instruct Adeline on the most successful course of action in such a situation. But her friends were in London, and Adeline was stranded in the wilds of Kent with a most fierce lord.

She should be, at the very least, a bit wary of the stranger and his servants. Yet, Adeline had the odd sense she’d been at Faversham for years, not less than a day. Strange, especially knowing she’d never particularly favored country life, and the Abbey was far more remote and removed from society than even her family’s country estate.

Relaxing in her sidesaddle, she spurred her horse into a full gallop and took off across the meadow toward the strand of trees she assumed was their destination. It only took a moment for Ailesbury to match her pace…and race past her.

The man did not know her well if he thought she’d allow him to best her.

With a more pronounced kick, Adeline laid close to her mare’s neck as the beast jumped into an outright run. The wind pulled at her carefully coiffed hair, sending pins scattering to the earth in her wake. Adeline shook her head, sending her curls tumbling down her back as the breeze caught them, creating a trail of locks behind her. She’d never before felt so free…and alive. Never had she been allowed to ride a horse in such a brazen manner. Leaning closer to her mare’s neck, she cooed to the beast, imparting words of gratitude and prodding the animal ever on. She shook her head back and forth against the horse’s neck, sending the last of her delicately placed hairpins cascading in the wind as the cold numbed her nose and her eyes watered. She cared naught; instead, she embraced what once would have been a discomfort.

Almost too quickly, they each pulled up on the reins and slowed their horses to a canter as they approached the trees.

She risked a glance over her shoulder and spotted Faversham Abbey in the far distance, tendrils of smoke drifting skyward from at least seven chimneys. The manor appeared larger from across the meadow, if that were possible. She wondered if a servant looking out the tall windows, perhaps on the third or fourth floor, could spot them across the grassy expanse separating them from the Abbey. Adeline doubted it, but what a grand view the servant would have.

Turning back, Lord Ailesbury had dismounted his horse and slung his quiver and bow over his right shoulder before stepping toward her to assist her to the ground.

Adeline shook her head and waved him off as she jumped down, landing with a slight bounce and a smile. Once again, the habit moved seamlessly with her as she reached up to untie the cord holding her own bow and quiver to the horse’s side. There was obviously a story behind the garment, though no one had seen fit to inform her of it. Was it possible that Lord Ailesbury had once been wed, and the habit had belonged to his wife? That would explain his dour mood upon seeing her and during their ride across the meadow.

The cut and fabric of the garment were much like the rest of Lord Ailesbury’s home: in excellent condition for such a dated piece. The material was far stiffer and sturdier than was popular among the ton in recent years. In fact, it appeared new and hardly worn, if anyone had donned the riding habit at all. The color, a scarlet so deep it mirrored the hue of freshly spilt blood, suited her complexion and hair color splendidly. The hem reached just below her ankle and grazed the floor when she’d walked through the foyer earlier. Both Poppy and Emily had gone on and on about how well the garment hugged her frame.

Maybe she’d ask Lord Ailesbury if she could keep the garment when she left Faversham Abbey. Certainly, Alistair would send the coin to pay for it, if the earl did not demand payment in excess of the habit’s worth. There was time, when they returned to the Abbey, to inquire on the matter.