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“Your father is right, Jane,” Alexander said.

For the first time since she’d picked Asher up from the ground, Jane considered her own state of being. Her cloak and gown were tattered and badly stained. Her hair had fallen loose from its pins, and she was quite sure it sported a similar coating of dirt and leaves to Asher’s. She’d discarded her torn gloves to feel for Asher’s pulse, and her fingers stung from the cuts she’d acquired in the gully. Her whole body ached from misuse and exhaustion, but she guessed her father’s greatest concern was her legs.

“I am experiencing some pain in my legs,” she admitted, “but I have yet to try standing.”

“If either of them is broken again . . .” Her father frowned. “Whatever possessed you to mount that horse? I forbade you from riding for a reason.”

“You forbade me from riding to protect me, but it is my job to protect Asher.” Jane knew her father’s anger stemmed from anxiety, but that did not make it hurt any less. “I knew full well that my own legs were too feeble to be of any use to him, but with a horse, I thought I might be enough.”

“There was no need for you to leave the house,” her father said. “Between our servants and Bloxley’s, there were plenty of men searching.”

“But I was the one who found him, Father.” Jane struggled to a sitting position. “You would likely still be out there if I had not taken Aria. When I came upon him, Asher was so cold I thought him dead. He would not have survived much longer.” Now that she had Asher, she more fully grasped a parent’s anguish over the welfare of a child. “I am sorry for the distress I caused you, Father. I did what I thought was best.”

Her father ran his fingers through his hair. “You could have been killed!”

Jane hung her head. She did not regret the choice she had made, but she hated that she had caused her father such torment.

Alexander cleared his throat. “It may not be my place to participate in so private a conversation, sir, but you should know that Jane handled the horse admirably for one who had not ridden for so long. She was not thrown; she chose to dismount at the gully.”

Gratitude for Alexander’s support overwhelmed her, even as she saw her father’s shoulders sag.

“All that really matters is that you are safe,” he said, and he reached across the bed to take one of her hands in his. “But there is no need to put your own welfare at risk any longer. When the doctor that Lord Bloxley has sent for comes, you must listen to him and do as he says.”

Memories of her father holding her hand from his seat beside her bed when she was recovering from her accident assailed her, and Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “I will, Father.” She squeezed his hand appreciatively. “Thank you for caring about me so deeply.”

“I’d be fool not to,” her father said gruffly.

Women’s voices and the clang of something metal reached them from the passageway, and with a brief knock on the door, Mrs. Hunt and the two maids entered. Mrs. Hunt was carrying a small bowl in one hand and a pile of towels in the other. The maids each held steaming buckets of water, which they began pouring into the waiting bathtub.

Asher stirred again, and Jane turned to him just as his eyelids flickered open.

“Asher,” she said, reaching out to him. “Can you hear me?”

The little boy’s eyes met hers, and then his gaze darted around the room. His confused expression quickly became more frantic as he took in the vibrant floral wallpaper on the walls, the dark mahogany tallboy and chest of drawers accented with gold handles and hinges, and the sumptuous four-poster bed beneath him. He whimpered, and Jane reached for him.

“Go home,” he whispered. “Go home.”

“We will, Asher, just as soon as you are well enough.”

“Has the child awoken?” Mrs. Hunt stepped forward, and Asher shrank against Jane.

“Asher, this is Mrs. Hunt. She’s here to help you.”

“No.” He was shaking with fear. “Alice.”

“Alice is not here, dear.” Jane ran her hand gently across his head and looked helplessly at Alexander. He immediately bent until he was at Asher’s eye level.

“I am glad to see you, Asher,” he said. “I thought you might like to come to Bloxley Hall for a little visit. Would you like me to send for Alice too?”

The little boy nodded his head and then moaned.

“Does your head hurt?”

Asher had already lifted his hand to explore the pain coming from his forehead. “Yes. And this.” He extended his arm to Alexander, who quickly identified the angry cut on Asher’s forefinger.

“The bath is ready, my lord. It would be best if we cleaned the lad first and then applied the salve,” Mrs. Hunt said. “Louisa here can carry him over and get him out of his soiled clothing.” She stepped aside to make way for one of the young maids to approach the bed.

Asher saw her coming. He grabbed a fistful of Jane’s gown and pressed his face into her side. “No,” he cried. “Alice.”