Page 6 of Adeline

“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.”

Chapter 2

Jasper Benedict, the Earl of Ailesbury, pulled his heavy woolen cloak tighter around his hulking frame as his carriage leapt and bounded down Spires Road away from his gunpowder plant and toward his home at Faversham Abbey. It had been thoughtful of his servants to notice the growing storm and to send his carriage to bring Jasper home. He’d been so enthralled by the newly presented reports from his production line he hadn’t left his office since before midday.

Retrieving the stack of papers from his satchel, Jasper scanned the increase in profits once more. He could scarcely believe the surge of revenue. By this time next month, he’d be able to hire a dozen more villagers, spreading his good fortune amongst the people of Faversham and the surrounding countryside.

He adjusted his position on the padded seat but, as was common, he could not find an angle that did not cause his back to ache unmercifully.

When the war ended, and the need for gunpowder all but disappeared, Jasper had feared for the people living close to Faversham Abbey. Men would be out of work, children would no longer have the luxury of attending school, and families would either starve or move closer to London to find a means to support themselves.

He could not stand by and allow such a fate for the place his family had called home for five generations.