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“His name is Asher Barton,” Jane said. She kept her head high and met her father’s stormy eyes without flinching. “And he has come to stay at Charwell Park for a while.”

Her father stared at her. “I beg your pardon.”

At her father’s icy tone, Jane made her decision; she would fight this battle once. “Perhaps you would accompany me to the drawing room so that Mother and Phoebe may also hear what I have to say.”

Her father bristled. “It would seem I have little choice.”

“While you discuss the matter, Alice and I will see to giving the boy a bath,” Aunt Millward said.

Her father swung to face his sister, his eyes flashing. “Is this your doing, Bea?”

“Not at all,” Aunt Millward said. “Asher is here at Jane’s invitation.” She met his furious glare with a flinty one of her own. “But harbor no doubts, Reginald, I wholeheartedly support her actions today. You may not recognize it yourself, but your daughter is a remarkable young lady, with more heart and more sense than all the other flighty misses in London combined.” And without waiting for a response, she started toward the stairs. “Come, Alice. Bring Asher. We have work to do.”

Pressed against Jane’s leg, Asher had started to tremble. She bent slightly and ran her fingers gently across his stricken face. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “Go with Alice now and as soon as I have finished speaking with Mr. Hadford, I shall join you.”

“Where are we going?” Asher asked.

She smiled. “I think Lady Millward and Alice are going to give you a bath.”

He shrank back. “It will be cold.”

“Not in this house,” she reassured him. “It will be warm, and perhaps Alice can find you a cup or two to play with in the water.”

“I can play?” At his bewildered expression, Jane’s heart broke. Had he truly had no opportunity to be a child? It was likely that his cold-water baths had been so miserable he’d jumped out as soon as possible.

“Yes, dear. You can play. But be sure that you mind Alice when she tells you to get out.” Asher nodded solemnly, and with an encouraging smile, Alice extended her arm to him. He eyed it warily. “Go ahead,” Jane said.

Reluctantly, Asher released his hold on Jane’s hand and took Alice’s instead. And then, with one more worried glance at Jane’s father, he scurried away, taking two steps for every one that Alice took.

“I do not approve of an urchin taking a bath abovestairs in my house,” her father said. His voice remained stern, but as he had done nothing to prevent Alice and Asher’s departure, Jane grasped at a wispy thread of hope.

“I understand that this is all very irregular, but believe me when I say that leaving that child in the circumstances in which we found him this morning was not any option at all.”

Her father frowned, his gaze following Alice and Asher as they made the turn onto the landing at the top of the stairs. “You were very good with him,” he said grudgingly.

Jane reached for another thread of hope. “I like him very much.”

His frown deepened, but he offered her his arm. “Your mother is in the drawing room, I believe. I do not think your explanation should wait any longer.”

Chapter 15

Jane’s mother stared at her in horror. “You brought an urchin off the street home with you?”

Praying for patience, Jane attempted to calm her mounting frustration. “He is not an urchin, and he was not on the street. He is a three-year-old ward of the Foundling Hospital.”

“And that makes things better?” Her mother’s voice was rising half an octave with each sentence. “Who knows who his mother is—if a woman of that ilk even deserves the title.”

It was all Jane could do not to tell her that she knew full well who Asher’s mother was and that the poor woman had done the best she could for the boy, loving him until the day she died.

Jane had given her parents and sister a pared-down version of her interaction with the Stanley family, focusing primarily upon her awareness at church that all was not well and her subsequent desire to take food to the family who had lost a child. She’d kept Lord Bloxley’s involvement out of her narrative completely, but it was impossible not to explain that Asher’s treatment at the Stanleys’ home was in part due to the fact that he was not their own.

“You misjudge out of ignorance, Mother.”

“Jane!” The censure in her father’s voice curbed Jane’s tongue. “I will not have you speak to your mother so.”

Jane lowered her head and took a deep breath. “Forgive me, Mother. It is just that I have visited the Foundling Hospital. Many of the women who take their babies there do so as a last resort, hoping to give the child a chance at a better life. Indeed, when viewed in that light, the ultimate sacrifice of giving up a child for the sake of the child makes them the best of mothers.”

Her mother’s sniff suggested that she was far from convinced.