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“It would seem that way,” he said, even as he mentally reviewed his long list of parliamentary commitments over the next few weeks. “Except that I am required to be in London until the current session of Parliament ends.” He frowned. No matter how badly he wished to put his obligation to Miss Brown behind him, there was no reasonable way he could leave. Not with the Chimney Sweepers Act hovering on the brink of being made into law.

Miss Hadford’s face fell. “Oh, I see.”

“I had thought that the child would be here, at the hospital,” he said.

“He will return to London in April of 1790,” Mr. Morris said, his air of self-importance reasserting itself with the unhelpful announcement.

“It seems that the man can claim a knowledge of addition and subtraction, along with the alphabet,” Lady Millward muttered.

If Mr. Morris heard her, he chose to ignore it. “Is there anything more I can do for you, Lord Bloxley?”

“I do not believe so,” Alexander said. Until his work at Westminster was completed, his hands were tied. But at least he was leaving the hospital with the child’s name and location. That alone was significantly more than he’d had a few hours ago.

The director’s assistant gave Alexander and the ladies a curt nod. “Then if you would excuse me, I shall return this file to its proper place.” He tucked the folder under his arm and exited the lobby.

“Well.” Lady Millward tugged her gloves more securely up her arms. “That was all rather exciting, wasn’t it?” She eyed the door on the other side of the lobby. “Are you still of a mind to view the artwork, Jane?”

When Miss Hadford did not immediately respond, Alexander looked down at her. She was chewing her lip thoughtfully.

“You said Bloxley Hall is only three miles from High Brodmore,” she said. “Does that mean that Charwell Park is also nearby?”

He nodded, surprised by her question. “Yes. If anything, Charwell Park is slightly closer to the village.”

“My family and I, we are quitting London for Berkshire tomorrow.” She paused, shifting more of her weight to her cane and releasing his arm. “If you would permit me to go in your stead, I could visit young Asher at Mrs. Stanley’s house within the week and report what I find to you by post.”

“You would do that?”

She met his eyes, and he saw a unique blend of determination and hope in their depths. “Yes. As long as you do not consider it overstepping.”

“On the contrary,” he said. “You would be doing me a great service. I will visit the boy myself when I return to Bloxley Hall—he may be too young to fully appreciate his mother’s message of love and remembrance, but deliver it I must. In the meantime, it would put my mind at rest to know that he is well.”

“Then consider it done,” she said, breaking into a bright smile.

Alexander was fairly sure that his sudden lightness of heart was due to the burden of locating Miss Brown’s child having been lifted rather than the fact that Miss Hadford’s small hand had reclaimed its place on his arm. But he could not be completely certain.

“And the art exhibit?” Lady Millward asked.

“Are you pressed for time, Lord Bloxley?” Miss Hadford said.

Alexander withdrew his pocket watch and glanced at it. “I have an hour before I am to meet fellow peers at White’s. Until then, I am at your disposal.”

Miss Hadford’s smile returned, and it was suddenly difficult to look away. “Then perhaps we can see one or two paintings before we leave.”

Chapter 7

Jane was restless. Unfortunately, it was a sensation with which she was all too familiar, but this time, her restlessness did not stem from her physical limitations but rather from her impatience. She’d been waiting for their visitors to leave for over an hour, and if they did not go soon, she would be forced to abandon her planned outing—again.

Her family had been in Berkshire for over a week, and the flurry of activity that had attended their arrival at Charwell Park was finally subsiding. Thankfully, most of their belongings had arrived from Yorkshire whilst the family had been in London, and those pieces were already situated in the correct rooms. At first, it had been a strange experience to walk the halls of this fine house and see familiar furnishings in new surroundings, but the oddness of it all was beginning to fade.

Jane’s mother had lost no time in seeing to the details of hanging artwork and rearranging furniture. And as though they had somehow known exactly when Mrs. Hadford would have her drawing room put to rights, neighbors had begun making calls within an hour of the placement of the last candlestick. Since then, there had been a steady stream of visitors at the house.

Jane’s mother had been most gratified by the welcome and had insisted that Jane and Phoebe be there to meet the assortment of well-wishers and curious locals. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a pleasant enough way to pass the day, especially as such visits inevitably led to amusing discussions with Phoebe afterward, but this time, Jane had somewhere else she wished to be.

At last, the vicar and his wife rose to their feet, and Jane wasted no time. With one hand on the arm of the chair, she stood before either her mother or Phoebe had moved an inch. Rising more slowly, her mother spared her a surprised glance before turning her full attention back to their visitors.

“It was very good of you to visit us so soon after our arrival, Mr. and Mrs. Fossum.”

“Yes, yes.” The vicar nodded his head vaguely. It had become quickly apparent that the aging man heard perhaps one word in five. Mrs. Fossum had already repeated the most important information in a shrill voice. “We are happy to have Charwell Park occupied once more. And by such a fine family as well.”