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When he’d come downstairs for breakfast and learned that Miss Doyle was taking her meal in her room, he’d taken advantage of their time alone to present his plan to take Miss Doyle to Finley Park to his mother. Lady Langton had been thrilled to know that Miss Doyle was to accompany her to the garden party, but her enthusiasm had become considerably more subdued when she’d learned that the innkeeper’s daughter would be there to help identify the Midnight Master and that once that role was completed, she would be moving on to a new position in the home of the Earl of Bloxley.

Jonas understood his mother’s concern and disappointment. He shared it. But he was also fully committed to supporting Miss Doyle in whatever decision she made. She’d already experienced too many difficulties in her life; he refused to add another. For her part, Lady Langton had been so relieved to have Miss Doyle restored safely, she had smothered her with attention and was now insisting that the maid, Josephine, attend to Miss Doyle each morning and that she not be allowed outside without someone watching out for her. To that end, Jonas had been charged with being their escort for their daily pilgrimage to feed the birds, so rather than following his instinct to hide away in his study for the day, he was standing in the hall, bracing himself for their next meeting.

At the sound of voices on the landing, he looked up. His gaze rested on Miss Doyle, and his heart missed a beat. Or maybe it was two or three. For several seconds, he simply stared. Her slate-blue gown was cinched at her tiny waist. Decorative lace flowed down a panel in the front and trimmed the neckline and sleeves. Rather than being pulled back in her usual bun or plait, her thick hair was arranged on her head in such a way that soft curls framed her face. Jonas did not think he had ever seen anyone so beautiful.

He watched as she guided his mother down the stairs. It had been too dark by the time he’d released her from the hidden room to notice the bruising on her face. He was grateful to see that although some color remained, it was improved. She appeared to be favoring one ankle still, and there was a bandage about both of her wrists. Despite her injuries, however, she was smiling at something his mother was saying, and Jonas marveled yet again at her resilience.

They reached the last step, and his mother looked up. “Ah, Jonas, there you are.”

Miss Doyle must not have realized he was there. Startled, she turned and immediately dropped into a curtsy. “Good morning, my lord.”

By virtue of his title, he was greeted by curtsies everywhere he went. He rarely thought on it, but having Miss Doyle curtsy to him felt somehow wrong.

“Good morning, Miss Doyle,” he said, bowing his head. “I hope you are rested after your ordeal yesterday.”

“I am, thank you.” She stood stiffly. “Lady Langton, Mrs. Beecham, Josephine—they have all taken very good care of me.”

He forced a smile. Why did it sound as though she was talking to a stranger? Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glimmer of the silver buttons on his gray coat and the matching silver buckles on his shoes. His well-tailored ensemble was completely out of keeping with Reynard’s character. No wonder Miss Doyle was treating him as she would a new acquaintance. He appeared to be one.

“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady.” One of the maids approached from the kitchen with a bowl full of breadcrumbs. “Cook asked me to give you this.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Lady Langton said. “Give it to Miss Doyle, would you?”

With a smile and a word of thanks, Miss Doyle took charge of the bowl, and the maid scurried back the way she had come.

“I hope you don’t mind, Miss Doyle, but I have invited Lord Langton to join us on our excursions to feed the birds.”

If Miss Doyle felt any emotion following that announcement, she hid it well. She gave a slight nod. “Of course, my lady.”

“Excellent,” Lady Langton said. “Then let us be off.”

Jonas offered his mother his arm. She took it, and they walked out the front door, with Miss Doyle a few paces behind them. After negotiating the wide steps, they followed the path he and Miss Doyle had taken the night before toward the rose garden. His mother led him to the very same bench beneath the white rose arbor and took a seat. Averting her eyes to avoid looking at him, Miss Doyle handed the viscountess her bowl.

“Sit beside me, Miss Doyle. I shall need your assistance should any new visitors stop by this morning.”

The innkeeper’s daughter obediently took her place, and Jonas stepped back a few paces, content to simply watch. It was not long before the first inquisitive robin arrived on the scene and trilled a tune.

“Good morning, Master Robin,” his mother said. “I thought you might be first to breakfast today.” She tossed the tiny bird some crumbs, and within seconds, four more birds arrived.

For almost an hour, Jonas watched with bemusement as his mother and Miss Doyle conversed with the birds as though they were lifelong friends. At one point, Miss Doyle pointed out a tiny blue tit. His mother gazed in the bird’s general direction, and Jonas realized that she could not see the distinctive yellow and blue markings well enough to pick it out amongst the others. Miss Doyle had her listen to the bird’s call. Lady Langton hummed it a few times, then gave a satisfied nod.

“I think I will know you again, Miss Blue Tit,” she said. The bird flew to a different spot and sang again. Lady Langton turned, listening to the fluting melody. “Ah, you thought to find some crumbs on this side, did you? Well, if you come a little earlier tomorrow, Miss Blue Tit, there will be more.”

Two blackbirds scoured the gravel for any last morsels while his mother listened happily to them call back and forth to each other. Jonas shook his head in amazement. During the short time he’d been in London, Miss Doyle had worked some magic here. He looked at her. She was also watching the birds, but when his gaze landed on her, she turned. For the first time today, their eyes met, and the air between them crackled. Everything around him stood still, then she dropped her gaze, and the moment was gone.

Lady Langton rose to her feet. “That was lovely,” she said.

Lovely. No, that was not how Jonas would describe the experience he’d just had. Stunning, exhilarating, terrifying. He would have accepted any of those words, but not lovely. Lovely was how you described afternoon tea or a stroll in the park.

“What do you think, Miss Doyle?”

“As long as Viscount Langton’s height doesn’t frighten Mrs. Swallow, he’s sure to have a better view into the nest than we have.”

With a start, Jonas realized he’d missed half of what his mother had said. He stepped forward, scrambling to put together the portions he’d heard. “You’ve found a nest?”

His mother gave him an impatient frown. “Three of them. They’ve been there for years. You know that. But there’s a new young family in residence, so we’re going to walk down to the stables to see how the chicks are faring.”

“Very well.” Jonas glanced at Miss Doyle. She was reaching for the empty bowl, but her fingers were trembling slightly. She may not have missed his mother’s conversation, but perhaps she was not quite as impervious to what had just happened between them as she let on.