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“Yes. In a manner of speaking, I suppose I have.”

He cleared his throat. “Miss Hadford, if you don’t mind my saying so, you are quite the most courageous young lady I know.” She looked up at him then, and he smiled at her. “And in case you weren’t aware of it, I know a fair number.”

She managed a small smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Alexander,” he said. “As you told Asher yourself, we are friends. And friends call each other by their given names.”

Color flooded Jane’s cheeks. “Lord Bloxley, I was merely trying to encourage . . . I did not mean to—”

He shook his head. “Call me Alexander,” he said again. He raised one eyebrow. “And may I have the honor of calling you by—”

“Jane,” she blurted out. “You may call me Jane.”

He grinned. “Very well, Jane. Let us embark on our tadpole-catching expedition before my mother catches Asher fishing in her fountain.”

With a gasp, Jane swung around. Alice was dragging Asher back toward them, the net in his hand leaving a telltale trail of fountain water behind him.

But before she could say anything, Alexander called out to him and pointed toward the gardens. “That way, Asher. There’s a much bigger pond around the back.”

“Fwogs and newts,” the little boy cried, and he took off at a run, with Alice chasing after him.

Chapter 19

Alexander had waded up to his knees in murky pond water to yank Asher out of a tangle of wet weeds three times, and still the child showed no sign of losing his enthusiasm for tadpoles.

“Look, Miss Hadford! You can see his tail wiggle.” Asher held the jar close to Jane’s face, and Alexander saw her small nose wrinkle at the pungent smell of pond scum. To her credit, however, she matched Asher’s enthusiasm with her own.

“What a fine collection,” she said. “I think it may well be the best tadpole collection I’ve ever seen.”

Alexander stifled a smile. With no brothers, it was more than likely that Jane had never seen a jar full of tadpoles before.

“Lord Bloxley says I can take them back to Charwell Park to watch them turn into fwogs.” Asher gazed at the tadpoles in wonder. “It will be like magic.”

“It will indeed,” Jane said. “But you will need to bring them back when they are grown. They’ll want to jump around in the pond.”

Asher nodded, his expression solemn. “I will. I pwomise.”

On the ground, a flicker of movement caught Alexander’s eye. He held very still, then as the newt crawled onto the rock beside his wet shoe, he pounced.

“Got him!” he said triumphantly. He opened his clasped hands just enough that Asher could see inside. “Asher, meet your first newt. Newt, this is Master Asher Barton.”

The tadpoles temporarily forgotten, Asher hurried over to inspect the contents of Alexander’s hands. “He’s just as fast as you said, Alice. See? He’s wunning all over Lord Bloxley’s fingers.”

“He is indeed.” The maid inched closer, carrying another jar from the basket. “Would you care t’ put ’im in ’ere, my lord?”

“Thank you, Alice. That would be marvelous.” He dropped the newt into the wide-mouthed jar and handed the container to Asher. “This one must stay at the pond, but perhaps you can watch him in there until it is time to leave.”

Without a word, the child plopped to the ground, his eyes glued to the tiny newt scurrying around inside. Alice moved to sit beside him, and Alexander squelched his way over to the log from which Jane had been watching the tadpole gathering.

“Asher will be talking joyfully of this activity for a very long time, but I am terribly sorry that it has come at the expense of your boots,” she said.

He lowered himself onto the log. “Do not concern yourself over that. I anticipated getting wet, so I purposely wore my oldest pair.” He stretched his legs out before him. “Besides, they will quickly dry in this sunshine.”

She turned her face toward the sky, closing her eyes to soak in the warmth of the sun. “It is lovely, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Alexander said, his eyes on Jane. “Truly lovely.”

She turned to him. “It omens well for your mother’s picnic,” she said. “The weather promises to be perfect tomorrow.”