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“I’m not sure that the viscount can tell a robin from a starling, but between the two of us, we shall do our best to keep them straight.”

Elizabeth nodded, afraid her voice would betray her emotions if she said anything more. The viscountess seemed to understand. She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand gently.

“You will be sorely missed, my dear.”

Another knock sounded at the door. Grateful for the interruption, Elizabeth looked up as the Duchess of Kelbrook entered the room.

“Your trunk has been loaded onto the carriage, and my brother awaits you in the hall, Miss Doyle.”

Lady Langton released her hand, and Elizabeth stepped away. “Forgive me, Your Grace, my lady. I must not keep Lord Langton waiting any longer.” She curtsied to both women and started for the door.

“Miss Doyle.” The duchess’s voice stopped her, and Elizabeth turned. “I am truly sorry you are not to remain at Langton Manor, but I wish you well in your new endeavor.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I will always treasure the memories I have of the time I spent there.”

The duchess smiled. “I hope you will return one day.”

Elizabeth managed one more stumbling curtsy, then she fled the room before the threatening tears began to fall. Recovering her straw bonnet from her bedchamber, she took a moment to compose herself before tying the ribbons beneath her chin and walking across the landing. When she reached the top of the stairs, she paused. Running her hands down her old blue gown, she lifted her head and started down the steps.

Lord Langton was pacing across the hall. At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up, the lines of worry on his forehead softening slightly as he watched her descend.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she said.

“No apology needed,” he said. “It is not yet nine o’clock, which, I believe, is the time we agreed upon.”

The viscount had joined her at breakfast an hour before and had explained his need to reach London early so he and the earl could accompany Bow Street runners to Little Tilbury in time to trap the Midnight Master at the inn the night after next. She should not have been surprised; she’d heard the baron tell his wife that he had urgent business in Kent. And yet, the enormity of what Lord Langton and the Earl of Bloxley were attempting to do caused her no little alarm, and she found that she could not think on it without a ball of cold, hard dread forming in her stomach. Her only recourse if she wanted to be in any fit state to meet the earl’s housekeeper was to not think on it at all.

“I am ready now,” she said.

For a fleeting second, Elizabeth saw something in the viscount’s eyes—something that made her wonder if he was experiencing a turmoil of emotions similar to her own. But the impression was gone almost as quickly as it had come, and his polite smile returned. He gestured toward the front doors. “Then let us be on our way.”

***

Elizabeth clung to the upholstered seat in the Langton’s carriage as the wheels hit another bump. She was alone in the conveyance, as Lord Langton had chosen to ride his horse alongside the carriage, and as she was unable to anticipate the dips along the way, it had been all she could do to keep her seat. Her assumption that she would notice an improvement in the roads once they reached London was being proven wrong with every mile they traveled. She glanced out the window again, wondering how much longer it would be before they reached the Earl of Bloxley’s townhouse.

Dirty streets lined with tightly packed buildings had replaced the wide-open fields and woodland of Surrey. Children played on grimy doorsteps, their voices blending with the rumble of wheels and the shouts of merchants. A dog barked outside a butcher’s shop, and a thin cat slipped away, disappearing around the corner of a sooty wall. It was a far cry from the quiet village of Little Tilbury, and with each passing minute, Elizabeth’s anxiety mounted.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of how fortunate she was to have obtained a position in the earl’s household. London would be an adjustment, to be sure, but she would have a roof over her head and a small income, and she would be safely removed from her father and Mr. Cummings. Each of those things was a reason to be glad. The fact that her shoulders drooped at the thought of what lay ahead was ridiculous. She simply needed her head to convince her traitorous heart of her pleasing situation.

The street noises dimmed, and Elizabeth looked out to see trees, shrubs, and rolling lawns. She inched closer to the window, drawing comfort from the unexpected greenery. Perhaps she could occasionally walk through grass and talk to birds nesting in the trees, even while in the center of the city.

The carriage turned another corner, and a tidy row of townhouses met her eye. Very different from the buildings they’d passed earlier, these brick homes were large and immaculately maintained. Each house had three full floors boasting large windows, with another set of smaller dormer windows emerging from the steep roofline. On the rooftop, a row of tall chimneys broke up the skyline, and at ground level, brightly colored doors welcomed visitors.

Suddenly aware that the carriage was coming to a halt in front of one of those very houses, Elizabeth sank back in her seat. They had arrived. Trying to ignore the tremors in her fingers, she straightened her bonnet and slid toward the door. The latch clicked, the door opened, and Lord Langton’s gloved hand appeared.

“May I assist you, Miss Doyle?”

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. He wrapped his fingers around hers, and despite the gloves they both wore, she felt the warmth and strength that was uniquely his.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He helped her to the ground, then without releasing her hand, he gave her a searching look. “Was the drive too much for you?”

“No, my lord. I am well.” Her trembling fingers had given her away. She withdrew her hand from his and turned to survey the imposing townhouse before her. “A little nervous is all.”

He gave her an understanding smile. “I’ve known the earl since our early school days and have even had occasion to meet his housekeeper, Mrs. Turley. You may rest assured that neither one is much of an ogre.”

It was remarkable how much the viscount’s gentle teasing helped. “Only partial ogres, then?” she said.