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“Very nice,” Alexander said. “She sold flowers to people every day, and I think she did it because she wanted to make people happy.”

He smiled. “That’s good.”

Alexander felt a weight lift from him. At last, he had fulfilled his promise to Mary Brown, and her son had accepted her message as only an innocent child could do.

“She would be very proud of you, Asher.”

“Just like you,” he said.

Alexander smiled. “Exactly right.”

Jane swallowed the lump in her throat. She was not sure what had touched her most—Asher’s sweet acceptance of his mother’s love or Alexander’s tenderness in delivering it. One thing she knew for certain, however, was that someday in the future, Alexander would make the very best of fathers. And no matter how much she admired him or wished to be with him, she could not get in the way of that.

Straightening her shoulders, she smiled at Asher. “Lord Bloxley has been very good to spend so much time with us, but we must let him go before Mrs. Hadford sends someone to check on him.”

Alexander slipped his pocket watch out of his vest and glanced at it. Jane did not know what the time was, but she was quite sure Alexander had been with them far longer than the half hour usually prescribed for morning visits. The widening of Alexander’s eyes confirmed her suspicions.

Unfolding himself from the small stool, he stood and reached over to tousle Asher’s hair. “I will see you again before long, young man,” he said.

“And we will count the tadpoles’ legs,” Asher said.

If there was any way to discourage Alexander from making another call, Jane felt certain that would be it, but the gentleman, it seemed, thought differently.

“A fine idea,” he said.

Asher grinned, and he hurried across the room to his abandoned pile of blocks. Jane slid to the edge of the rocking chair and reached for her cane. Pushing herself onto her feet, she took an unsteady step forward. Alexander moved toward her and offered her his arm. This time, she took it.

“Alice will be here shortly, Asher,” she said, but a new tower had already claimed the child’s attention.

“Before I go, there is something else I wish to say.” Alexander was standing close, his eyes on hers.

Jane forced herself to breathe. “To me?”

“To you.”

Jane’s knees began to tremble, and it had nothing to do with a pain in her hip and everything to do with a pain in her heart. “I beg you, Alexander . . .” She could not do this. It would break her more fully than any shattered bone.

“I must.” Alexander took her hand. “We have always been honest with each other, Jane, and the time has come for me to confess that I have fallen in love with you. I do not know if it began when you giggled at Lady Millward’s earplugs or when you listened to me in the Norringtons’ library or when you raced to tell me what you had discovered at the Foundling Hospital. I only know that my feelings for you grow stronger every day, and that I want to be at your side at every opportunity afforded to me.” He raised her hand so that her fingers brushed his lips, and Jane’s heart wrenched in personal agony. “I should like to ask that you would allow me to officially court you.” He smiled, his eyes filled with the warmth and humor she loved so well. “Then perhaps your mother will have no need to wonder why we call each other by our given names.”

“No.” Tears were trailing down her cheeks, but she gave them no mind. “I cannot allow you to court me.”

Shock, confusion, and hurt flashed across Alexander’s face in rapid succession, and he took a step back. “No?” He took a ragged breath. “I do not understand. Is there someone else?”

Jane shook her head. “There has never been nor will there ever be someone else, Alexander.” Her voice broke. Hope had sprung in his eyes again, and she knew that somehow she must quench it. “You are the Earl of Bloxley. Your duty is to marry and produce an heir. I cannot—”

“Jane, this has nothing to do with duty! Do you not understand? I love you.”

“And I love you,” she said. “But I cannot marry you.”

“Cannot or will not?”

She pulled her hand from his. “Both.”

A new emotion—one that looked remarkably like anger—entered his eyes. He stiffened and offered her a curt bow. “As you told Asher yourself, I have stayed too long. Good day, Miss Hadford,” he said, and then he turned on his heel and walked out of the nursery without looking back.

Somehow, through a veil of tears, Jane reached her bedchamber. Nothing—not the loss of running or dancing or riding—had prepared her for this sacrifice. She had thought she had come to terms with a future without marriage, but she’d never allowed herself to look beyond giving up a marriage of convenience. Giving up Alexander was something else entirely, and the pain in her heart threatened to consume her.

Closing the door behind her, she turned the lock and stumbled to her bed. Tossing her cane aside, she threw herself on top of the covers, curled up in a tight ball, and sobbed until complete exhaustion overtook her.