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Jonas rose to his feet. Something was completely off-kilter. “Can I make that determination here, or do I need to go to the kitchen?”

“I could bring her to you, my lord, but she’s in rather a bad way, and I . . .”

“She?”

“Yes, my lord.” Hancock swallowed hard. His eyes shifted to Rosalind, then back to Jonas. “There’s a young lady in the kitchen asking for Reynard.”

Jonas felt the blood drain from his face.

Rosalind took one look at him and rose to her feet. “I think we need further explanation, Hancock,” she said.

“Yes, Your Grace.” His valet looked more tense than Jonas had ever seen him.

Jonas breathed deeply. Heaven help him. When he’d impulsively given Miss Doyle the invitation to ask for Reynard at Langton Manor, he’d not thought he would be in residence at the time. It was one thing to have someone get a message to him in London; it was quite another to have her recognize Reynard as the Viscount Langton.

“Go ahead, Hancock.” Jonas guessed that part of the man’s discomfort came from not knowing how much to say in front of Rosalind, but Jonas needed details, and he needed them now.

“Yes, my lord.” His valet’s shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch. “I was polishing your shoes in the kitchen just now when someone came to the servants’ entrance. At first, I didn’t pay the visitor any mind; one of the maids had gone to answer the door. But then I heard her saying she’d been told to come to Langton Manor by Reynard.” Hancock’s gaze flitted to Rosalind again, but he continued. “As you can imagine, my lord, the maid wasn’t having anything to do with that, but I thought maybe I should check to see who it was that was asking for him.” His gaze was now on Jonas. “I’ve never seen her before, but she’s in quite a state, and I couldn’t help but think you’d want to know about her before she was sent away.” He shifted his feet. “I hope I did right, my lord.”

“You did, Hancock. And I’m most grateful.”

Jonas paced to the window and back, considered his options. Having Miss Doyle brought to the drawing room might raise questions amongst the staff, but if he went to the kitchen, he ran the risk of her recognizing him immediately. Rosalind already knew of his alias and would likely work to protect it.

“Have the young lady brought to the drawing room,” he said.

“Right away, my lord.” With a brief bow, Hancock exited the room.

Instantly, Rosalind turned to him. “Do you know who this young woman is?”

“It can only be one person.” Jonas blew out the candle burning on the end table, then moved to extinguish the ones on the mantelpiece. “Miss Doyle, the innkeeper’s daughter, who stitched my arm, is the only one who could trace Reynard to Langton Manor.”

“And you would rather that she not realize that Viscount Langton and Reynard are one and the same,” Rosalind said as Jonas blew out a fourth candle.

“I think that would be best, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’d rather not greet her in the dark.”

Jonas looked around, suddenly realizing that with only three candles still burning, the drawing room was swathed in blackness. “Very well,” he said, using the flame of the closest candle to relight the two on the mantelpiece. “But until I have ascertained her reason for coming, I will stay in the shadows.”

The door opened, and a footman walked in. “Miss Elizabeth Doyle,” he said. Then he backed away, leaving the silhouette of a young woman standing in the doorway.

“Please come in,” Rosalind said. “I am the Duchess of Kelbrook. How can I help you?”

Miss Doyle entered the room. She moved slowly, painfully even. In one hand, she carried a bundle; in the other, her bonnet. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Your Grace,” she said. In the corner, Jonas cocked his head to one side. Something was wrong with Miss Doyle’s speech. It almost sounded slurred.

“You are out late,” Rosalind said.

“I was not sure of the way, and it took me far longer than I’d hoped.”

“I see. Well, you are here now. I understand that you were asking for Reynard.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I met him once and he said that if I ever found myself in need, I was to come here and mention his name.”

“And that occasion has arisen?”

Miss Doyle dropped her gaze. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Rosalind approached her. Even though the light was dim, Jonas could see the puzzlement in his sister’s face.