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“Regardless of Asher’s heritage,” Jane continued, “he is an innocent child who deserves to have a safe place to lie his head and food in his stomach, with adults who genuinely care about his welfare nearby.”

“That is all well and good,” her father said. “But I fail to see why those things must occur at Charwell Park.”

“Why not Charwell Park?” Jane countered. “We have excess of all those things.”

“Including an adult who truly cares about him.” Phoebe spoke for the first time, her observation hitting a mark both parents had missed.

Jane offered her a grateful look. “I do care about him. He is a sweet boy who deserves better.” She clenched her fists, preparing to venture into territory she rarely entered. “Everyone in this room knows that because of my accident, I cannot bear children. For each of you, that is a disappointment. For me, it is a crushing loss. If having Asher at Charwell Park gives me an opportunity to fulfill the role of mother—even if only for a few weeks—then I wish to seize it and make the most of every day I have with him.”

Complete silence greeted her words.

Phoebe met her eyes, and Jane saw the moisture gathered there. Her sister blinked, and a single tear trickled down her cheek. “Let him stay,” Phoebe whispered. “Please, Father. Let him stay.”

Their father appeared suddenly older. He cleared his throat. “Mary?” he said. “As the mistress of this house, you deserve a say in this matter.”

With mounting apprehension, Jane watched the conflict chase across her mother’s face. To accept the child flew in the face of all convention, and unlike Aunt Millward, Mother considered behaving correctly to be of utmost importance. And yet, despite her penchant for protocols, she was not without caring, particularly with regard to her daughters and their feelings.

“He may stay,” her mother said.

If Jane had not already been sitting, she was quite sure her legs would have given out from under her. “Thank you, Mother. Thank you, Father.”

“But only until other arrangements can be made,” her mother warned. “This is to be a short-lived and isolated event.”

“I understand,” Jane said, relief making her light-headed.

“And he is not to be running around the house like a wild ruffian,” her father said. His stern voice had returned, but his expression had softened.

“He has always behaved well in my presence,” Jane said. “But if you would permit me to turn the room adjacent to mine into a nursery, I daresay he would not wander far from it.”

“Speak to Mrs. Wilson,” her mother said. “She will know what to do.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I believe I must lie down for a while, so if you will excuse me, I shall retire to my bedchamber for an hour or two.”

“Allow me to escort you, my dear.” Jane’s father rose and offered his wife his arm. Her mother took it, and together they walked out of the drawing room in silence.

Scarcely able to believe what had just occurred—the mountain she had moved—Jane closed her eyes and took a ragged breath.

“Jane.” Phoebe’s voice was low. Jane opened her eyes to look at her. “Are you well?”

Jane nodded and managed a watery smile. “Thank you for your part in that miracle.”

Phoebe shook her head. “It was you, Jane. You managed to push Mother past her fetish for the correct and Father past his constant state of worry. Your passion helped them see something greater than those obsessions.”

“I am only helping one small boy.” A vision of Asher’s thin arms and legs impressed upon her mind. “One who is far too small, actually.”

Phoebe inched forward in her chair. “May I meet him?”

“Now?”

“Yes. Where have you hidden him?” Phoebe’s enthusiasm was heartwarming.

“Aunt Millward and Alice have taken him upstairs for a bath,” Jane said. “Although my guess would be that Aunt Millward organized the requisition of a bathtub and is ensuring that Alice does the rest.”

Phoebe laughed. “It sounds like a spectacle that should not be missed.” She rose and offered Jane her hand. “Come and introduce me to this child who has so quickly won your heart.”

Alexander’s horse entered the courtyard behind Bloxley Hall with a clatter of hooves. Grateful to finally have the journey from London behind him, Alexander slid out of the saddle and set his feet on the ground just as his head groom appeared from within the stable to greet him.

Samuel bowed. “Welcome home, my lord.”

“Thank you, Samuel.” Alexander handed him the reins. “It’s been a long, hard ride, so treat him well.”