Page 56

***

Elizabeth focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The ankle she’d turned when she’d fallen at the inn still pained her, but thanks to Mrs. Beecham’s ministrations, the swelling was down, and it was strong enough to bear weight for short periods of time. In some strange way, she was glad of the discomfort. It served as proof that the events of this day were real, not merely a dream or a figment of her imagination.

Over the last few hours, so much had happened, it was difficult to grasp the changes. Her kidnapping seemed a faint memory, her rescue a blur. The race through the night with Reynard had been both frightening and wonderful until he’d admitted his true identity and the very foundation of their relationship had cracked. Lord Langton’s explanation in the rose garden afterward had helped, and her total physical and emotional exhaustion had provided much-needed sleep, but she’d awoken this morning with an almost crushing dread of seeing him again.

It was good that she’d been unaware that he was waiting in the hall. Their first meeting had passed remarkably painlessly. It had given her hope that she could navigate the remainder of her time at Langton Manor without too much awkwardness. But then she’d met his gaze in the rose garden, and that hope had instantly evaporated. Notwithstanding his proud bearing and well-groomed appearance, Lord Langton’s eyes were Reynard’s eyes, and when she’d looked into them, she’d known she was lost.

Following a few feet behind the Langtons, she took an unsteady breath. She’d fallen into his arms, held his hand, shared his horse, and sat beside him while he’d recounted personal memories and goals. Already, she knew the bravery, self-assurance, and gentle consideration she had so admired in Reynard were held equally by the handsome viscount. There could be no going back to distant acquaintanceship for them; they had shared too much.

They were almost to the stables, and she would need to step forward and converse with Lady Langton about the swallow family as though nothing were amiss. It could be done. As long as she avoided making eye contact with the viscount, surely she could maintain her composure in his presence for another four or five days. She squared her shoulders even as her heart ached. When she was safely back within her proper sphere in the Earl of Bloxley’s household, this feeling of loss would be a thing of the past. It would not matter that she had once fallen in love with a viscount.

***

Jonas sat in an armchair in the drawing room. At the pianoforte, Miss Doyle was sifting through his sister’s music, trying to decide which piece to sing tonight. It had been three days since he’d returned her to Langton Manor, and he was still adjusting to seeing her in this environment. Every morning when she came to breakfast in one of her newly made-over gowns, his breath caught at her radiance, and when he accompanied her and his mother on their daily excursion to feed the birds, he marveled at her kindness.

Watching his mother converse with the wide variety of birds in the rose garden brought a smile to his lips every time. The delight in her faded eyes when she successfully identified one of her feathered friends by their song was worth all the torment he was forced to endure during the outing. For torment it was. And it was only getting worse.

He closed his eyes, knowing full well that he would still see Miss Doyle in his mind’s eye. It had been like this ever since he’d brought her home. Something about grasping her small hand as they’d escaped the inn and holding her close as they’d ridden back to Langton Manor had changed him. When she’d run off into the night after learning his true identity, the pain he’d experienced had been as unexpected as it had been enlightening. He cared about her, and what she thought of him truly mattered.

It was a tribute to her forgiving nature that she’d been willing to listen to him when he’d joined her in the rose garden that night. He’d wanted to give her a few minutes alone with her thoughts, but in the end, he’d found he could not bear to hear her cry. Especially when he was the cause of her tears. He had silently prayed that once he’d explained the situation more fully, she would understand the reason behind his subterfuge, but she’d gone one step further by agreeing to help him.

“If you are still undecided on a song, may I make a request, Miss Doyle?”

At his mother’s voice, Jonas opened his eyes. Lady Langton was sitting across from him, waiting expectantly for the music to begin.

“Of course, Lady Langton,” Miss Doyle said, still holding the sheets of music she had been choosing from. “Which song would you prefer?”

“I’d love to hear ‘The Oak and the Ash’ again,” she said. “You’ve not sung that one since the duchess left.”

As she’d done since their eyes had locked on their first day feeding the birds, Miss Doyle studiously avoided meeting his gaze.

“I should enjoy hearing it again too, Miss Doyle,” he said. “I am very attached to that particular song.”

He was rather pleased to see a fresh hint of pink bloom beside the fading bruises on her cheeks.

“Very well.” She set the paper on the pianoforte and turned to face them.

Clearing her throat slightly, she began to sing, and Jonas was immediately transported back to the hidden room and the memories of the tender care she’d given a stranger she’d believed to be a smuggler.

Miss Doyle sang the final note, and his mother began to clap. Jonas quickly added his own applause, and Miss Doyle smiled shyly.

“Remarkable,” Lady Langton said. “Is that not so, Jonas?”

“Yes,” Jonas said, desperately wishing Miss Doyle would look him in the eyes and gain a sense of his sincerity. “Truly remarkable.”

“I will miss your singing more than I can say,” Lady Langton said. “But I have not given up hope that you will yet change your mind and stay with us.”

Miss Doyle made her way to the chair farthest from Jonas. “You are very kind, Lady Langton, and I will miss you just as much, but I feel sure that this decision is best for everyone.”

“Then we shall have to agree to disagree and always remain good friends,” Lady Langton said.

“I should like that very much.” Miss Doyle studied her hands clasped on her lap. “Have you heard from the Duchess of Kelbrook, my lord? Will either of the noblemen you suspect to be the Midnight Master be in attendance at her garden party?”

“They will indeed,” Jonas said, grateful to be off the subject of her departure. “Both Baron Forwood and Lord Hargrove have accepted their invitations. At some point during the event, the duchess, the Earl of Bloxley, and I will each endeavor to engage them in conversations that include some leading questions. We shall hope that the villain will be sufficiently off his guard to make a slip.”

“And what would you have me do?” Miss Doyle asked.

“I am also anxious to be of help,” Lady Langton said.