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Lester Redfern watched Mrs. Brown and a gentleman settle themselves in a fancy black lacquer carriage led by a handsome set of matched grays. They entered the park, then disappeared from his view. About bloody time she'd gone out.

He patted his jacket. Pistol and knife were in place. His mouth flattened with grim determination. Pulling his hat low over his brow, he made his way toward the town house.

Chapter 7

Allie sat on a curved stone bench in Hyde Park under the shade of a massive willow and drew in a deep breath that did little to calm her.

She should not have come here.

Oh, yes, the weather was indeed lovely. A warm, summer breeze ruffled her hair, and ribbons of late afternoon sunshine filtered down through the leaves, casting striped shadows upon the ground. In the distance she could see handsome horses and carriages moving slowly around the park, and fashionably attired ladies and gentlemen strolling along the cobbled paths.

Less than thirty feet away stood the elegant black carriage that had brought them here. The coachman tended to the gray mares, offering them each a carrot he pulled from his pocket. While she couldn't deny she'd enjoyed the ride, the fresh air, and the sunshine, neither could she deny that Lord Robert's presence unsettled her in a way that was becoming more and more disturbing. Despite her best efforts to stop it, he was awakening feelings in her she'd thought she'd buried long ago. Spending more time in his increasingly pleasurable company was a very poor idea. Yet she'd been unable to resist his invitation for a ride in the park.

Holding up her gloved hand to shield her eyes from a swatch of sunlight, she observed a footman near the carriage hand Lord Robert what appeared to be a pouch. Lord Robert then walked toward her, pouch in hand, crooked grin curving his lips.

She tried to force her gaze away, but could not. He moved with lithe grace, his long, powerful boot-clad legs eating up the distance between them. An involuntary hum of pure feminine appreciation tickled her throat. Heavens above, he was truly heartstoppingly attractive. Dozens of female hearts no doubt littered his doorstep. His tailored clothing fit him to perfection, accentuating his muscular thighs and the broad expanse of his shoulders… shoulders that she vividly recalled the warmth and strength of.

Her fingers clenched in her lap, and she firmly pushed the disturbing image away. She hated that she was so intensely aware of him. What character flaw, what weakness of spirit did she possess that wouldn't allow her to strike the man from her mind? The mere thought of him made her skin tingle. And he had a way of looking at her that rendered her flustered and confused. And aching. The way he laughed one minute, then regarded her with the most serious of expressions the next, utterly confounded her. The problem is that he is just like David.

The thought stilled her. Was that the problem? Or was it perhaps the even more disconcerting possibility that he wasn't exactly like David. Certainly, in many ways he was-his easy charm, the secrets flickering in his eyes-yet in other ways he was nothing like her husband. He appeared not to possess David's impatience. And while Lord Robert was solicitous of her, he somehow did not make her feel like a useless, fragile piece of china as David often had. And his willingness to laugh at his own expense, well, that was something David never would have done. Yes, if he were just like David, she could guard herself against him. But it was these differences she sensed-

The realization of what she was doing slammed into her and she froze. Dear God, she was finding excuses to… like him. Rationalizing this impossible, unwanted attraction toward him. Convincing herself it was acceptable.

This had to stop. Immediately. She'd allowed one charming, attractive man to sweep her off her feet and he'd nearly destroyed her. She would never allow herself to fall victim to another such man or those feelings again.

"Are you ready?" Lord Robert's voice dragged her from her thoughts. He stood before her, a broad smile on his face. "This is a favorite activity of my nieces and nephew. Watch."

He set the pouch down on the bench beside her, then reached inside, pulling out two large handfuls of what appeared to be bread crumbs. He then spread his arms straight out and opened his hands, palms upward.

"Whatever are you doing?" she asked, curious in spite of herself. "You look like a scarecrow."

"Just watch. You'll see."

A trio of pigeons fluttered down. One landed on Lord Robert's outstretched right arm, the other two on his left, then proceeded to feast upon the bread crumbs in his palms.

Before she could stop it, a giggle bubbled up in her throat. "Now you truly resemble a scarecrow… a decidedly unsuccessful one."

He grinned. "I'm about to become even more unsuccessful."

Several more birds joined the fun, and in less than a minute, the very finely garbed Lord Robert Jamison had cooing pigeons resting all along his arms and shoulders. Just when she thought another bird couldn't possibly fit on him, a particularly plump, gray-breasted pigeon fluttered in. And perched itself on Lord Robert's very elegant black hat.

"Oh, my!" A burst of uncontainable merriment erupted from her, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks. "I believe the one on your hat is settling in for an extended stay."

"No doubt. Care to try it?"

She pursed her lips. "Thank you, but I'm not particularly fond of the taste of bread crumbs, and in truth, I don't believe you have any more room on your arm, or your hat, for me."

He chuckled and several pigeons ruffled their feathers. "They're very gentle. Take a handful of bread crumbs and join us."

It instantly occurred to her that David never, ever, would have suggested such a thing. And his disapproval would have prevented her from doing so. David is gone. I can do as I please.

With an almost defiant air, she rose, reached into the pouch, and grabbed two handfuls of bread crumbs. She then spread her arms as Lord Robert had done.

"Prepare yourself," he said with a chuckle. "Here they come."

A fat pigeon landed on her right arm and delicately pecked crumbs from her gloved hand. "Oh!" Before she could recover from her surprise, two more landed on her other black sleeve. The overwhelming urge to giggle seized her, yet she tried her utmost to contain it, not wanting to startle the birds. But the endeavor proved hopeless, and a fit of laughter seized her. Gray feathers ruffled a bit, then quickly settled back in place, the birds clearly not overly concerned about a chuckling perch.

"I wish Elizabeth was here," she said. "I would love for her to capture this moment in her sketchbook. You look so funny with that pigeon on your hat!"

"You're looking rather comical yourself. Brace yourself. One is heading for your bonnet."

"Oh, my…" She felt the weight settle on top of her head, and merriment simply consumed her. Bit by bit, the mantle of her concerns slipped from her shoulders, falling into a heap at her feet. She laughed until her sides ached and tears streamed down her cheeks. Dear God, how long had it been since she'd laughed like this? Enjoyed herself so thoroughly? Years… although it seemed like decades.

"A suitable sobriquet for you suddenly occurs to me," he said, blowing a pigeon tail feather from his chin. "I dub you Madam BOB, short for Bird-on-Bonnet."

"Very well, Sir FOF."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Feafhers-on-Face. There's a small one clinging to your cheek, and a particularly lovely one attached to your earlobe."

The laughter continued for several more minutes, then, when the supply of bread crumbs was eaten, the pigeons departed one by one. Except for the one on Lord Robert's hat.

"I think she likes you," Allie said with a laugh, as she brushed off her sleeves and resettled her bonnet.

"Either that or she's made a nest. I hope not, as this is my favorite hat." He made gentle shooing motions, but the pigeon remained. "It appears we have an extra passenger for the time being. Do you mind?"

She pressed her lips together to contain her amusement at the picture he made with that pigeon perched on his hat, but wasn't the least successful. "Not at all."

"Excellent." He extended his elbow with regal solemnity, and with equal pomp, she accepted. "I suggest we make our way to Regent Street," he said as they stepped onto the tree-lined, cobbled path leading back to the carriage. "No visit to London is complete without sampling the shops."

She hesitated, overcome with a sense of wistful nostalgia. At one time she'd have accepted the invitation with alacrity. She'd adored perusing the shops, choosing lovely gowns and frivolous hats. But now, with no excess funds to spend, the prospect was nothing short of depressing. He glanced down at her, and she instantly wondered what he'd discerned in her expression, for a look that could only be described as chagrin passed over his face. Before either could speak, however, a familiar voice hailed them.

" Alberta! Lord Robert!"

They turned in unison and were greeted by the sight of Lady Gaddlestone bearing down upon them, with Tedmund, Edward, and Frederick straining at their leads. A harried-looking footman trotted behind the baroness, his arms laden with a trio of colorful fabric-covered pillows that clearly belonged to the Maltese brood.

"Guard your ankles and skirt," Lord Robert warned in an undertone. "Here comes Sir Piss-a-lot, Sir Bite-a-bit, and Sir Hump-a-leg."

Laughter gurgled in her throat, and she coughed to cover it. Good Lord, the man was outrageous!