Page 16

“I am not calling on him,” Jane said, already limping toward the front doors. “I am simply delivering vital information.”

“And you could not do this by letter?”

“It would take too long.” Jane paused at the door. “Please, Aunt Millward. If it weren’t such an urgent matter, I would not dream of cutting short our excursion.”

Aunt Millward studied her. Jane could not imagine that she saw anything normal in her tear-stained face and anxious eyes, but with a decisive nod of her head, her aunt made her decision instantly. “Nonsense. Unless you intend to break even more rules of etiquette than you’ve already suggested by going to visit Lord Bloxley alone, we have not cut short our excursion whatsoever. It has merely become more exciting.” The peacock feathers on her hat waved wildly, and Jane had a mad desire to cheer.

“Thank you, Aunt Millward.”

The older lady chuckled. “Don’t thank me too soon, young lady. I will not allow you out of the carriage until you have enlightened me further. I cannot permit my reputation for eccentricity to be marred by poor judgment—no matter how fond I am of the niece behind the idea.”

Jane took her aunt’s arm and started down the stairs to the courtyard. “I shall tell you the whole of it as soon as we are on our way.”

Chapter 6

Alexander sat at his desk and reread the letter that had arrived this morning from Lord Langton. It appeared that the Chimney Sweepers Act was meeting with resistance from some of their colleagues in the House of Lords, and Jonas was requesting his presence at a meeting with some of the more moderate Whigs this afternoon to see how many they could sway to their way of thinking. It would undoubtedly be a long, somewhat heated discussion, but Alexander knew he could not avoid it. It was vital that something be done to protect the sweeps’ apprentices.

He glanced at the fire burning merrily on the other side of his study. One of the maids had lit it early this morning to ward off the morning chill, and the newly cleaned chimney was drawing well. But Alexander could not look upon it without thinking of the small boy covered in soot whom he’d discovered trembling in the drawing room fireplace four days before.

Mr. Watson had finished his work and vacated the premises the next day, and the housekeeper had assured him that the sweep’s young apprentice had been well fed and cared for until he’d left, but Alexander knew all too well that young Archie had likely been forced up someone else’s chimney already. And the thought made him ill. He stood and gathered the papers on his desk. He would meet with the gentlemen resisting a change in the law, and he would do all in his power to persuade them otherwise.

A knock on his study door startled him. Alexander glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was highly unlikely that his mother would be out of her chambers at this hour of the morning, and the servants knew better than to interrupt him when he was working.

“Enter,” he called.

Hastings opened the door and stepped in a few paces. “I apologize for the interruption, my lord. You have visitors.”

“Visitors?” Alexander checked the clock again to make sure he hadn’t been mistaken the first time he’d read it. “At this hour?”

“Indeed.” Hastings shifted his feet slightly. “Lady Millward and her niece Miss Hadford are here to see you. I informed them that the household does not accept callers until the afternoon, but they insist that this is not a social call but rather a matter of some urgency that requires your attention.”

Lady Millward was unconventional enough to think nothing of breaking social protocols, but unless his missed his mark, Miss Hadford would not come to see him herself unless the matter was truly pressing. In the short time that he had known her, he had caught glimpses of her sense of humor, empathy, sadness, and courage. But never discourtesy or flightiness. He doubted her capable of such things. If she were at Claremont House now, her errand must be important. “Send them in,” he said.

Hastings bowed and disappeared through the doorway. Moments later, he returned. “Lady Millward and Miss Hadford,” he announced.

The two ladies entered together, Miss Hadford leaning on Lady Millward’s arm. Hastings retreated and closed the door quietly behind him.

“Lord Bloxley,” Lady Millward said, inclining her head slightly while Miss Hadford offered a small curtsy.

Forcing his attention away from the enormous peacock feathers swaying wildly on the older lady’s atrocious hat, Alexander nodded politely. “Lady Millward. Miss Hadford. What a pleasant surprise.” He gestured to the two leather armchairs near the fire. “Please be seated.” He waited until they had each taken a chair before giving in to his burgeoning curiosity. “How may I help you?”

Lady Millward set her hands primly on her knee. “As a matter of fact, my lord, our visit is more a case of how my niece may help you.”

“Really?”

For the first time since they’d entered the room, Alexander allowed his eyes to linger upon Miss Hadford. Her forest-green gown complemented her trim figure all too well, and dark curls fell to her shoulders beneath a bonnet as pretty as her aunt’s was awful. She raised her head slightly, and he braced himself before meeting her expressive brown eyes. Those eyes had given him enough trouble already. At his mother’s musical event, they’d caused him to smile when he’d had every reason to remain somber, and at the Norringtons’ ball, they’d impelled him to speak when he should have remained silent. He still could not fathom why he’d felt comfortable telling her—someone he barely knew—the story of his search for Mary Brown’s child, but since the memory of her captivating eyes had repeatedly disturbed his sleep since then, he’d determined that they must be the culprits.

“I think I may have discovered the answer to the flower woman’s riddle, my lord. A reason why the scrap of fabric she gave you was so important to her.”

Alexander stared at her. Never, for one moment, had he considered that this rather remarkable young woman would so fully take to heart the account he’d shared with her or that she’d dwell upon it for one moment after he stepped out of the library. Surely it was not possible that she’d learned anything that he had not already dismissed. “You have my full attention, Miss Hadford.”

A hint of color touched her cheeks, and he found himself inexplicably glad that his consideration meant so much to her.

“I think it is entirely possible that the flower woman left her son at the Foundling Hospital,” she said.

The Foundling Hospital. Alexander attempted to recall what little he knew of the institution. Thomas Coram had founded it as a refuge for the abandoned children of inner-city London. Alexander had visited its new location in Bloomsbury on more than one occasion to attend a concert or view the work of up-and-coming artists in the gallery. To the best of his knowledge, the hospital benefited greatly from its many well-known benefactors. In fact, Mr. Hanway, the philanthropist who’d worked so long and hard to bring the plight of young chimney sweeps to the attention of the government, had been one of its greatest supporters.

“I am familiar with the hospital,” he said. “But why would you think Miss Brown left her son there? I was under the impression that the institution cares for children who have been deserted.”