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Louisa hesitated, and Mrs. Hunt frowned.

“He’s completely disoriented,” Jane said, her heart breaking for the child.

Without a word, Alexander stood, unbuttoned his jacket, and tossed it onto the yellow brocade chair behind him. Then he rolled up his shirtsleeves and leaned over the bed with his arms extended. “Come, Asher. I have not had the opportunity to play with you for days. What do you say to splashing in the water beside the fire?”

Slowly, Asher raised his head. “With you?”

“Of course.” Alexander smiled. “Why else would I have my sleeves rolled up?”

Asher looked at Jane, bewilderment in his dark eyes.

“Go with Lord Bloxley, sweetheart. He will stay with you, and I shall be right here, watching you play together.”

Asher raised his arms to Alexander, and the earl gently lifted him off the bed. Jane watched as Alexander carried him across the room. Mrs. Hunt and the maids hovered nearby while the Earl of Bloxley carefully undressed and bathed the child. Between the splashes and the soaping, Alexander talked to Asher as though they were the only ones in the room.

“I lost the fwogs.” Asher sounded close to tears. “All of them. And I pwomised you I’d take them to the pond.”

“Not to worry,” Alexander said. “They may still find their way to the pond. I hear frogs are quite clever. Indeed, maybe they will find a small pond closer to where you dropped them. After all the rain we’ve had, I daresay there are some big puddles around.”

“Do they like puddles?”

“Oh, very much. Do you?”

“I think so,” Asher said slowly.

“I believe boys love puddles almost as much as frogs.” Alexander looked up at his housekeeper. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Hunt?”

“Uh, yes, my lord.” The surprised woman responded with barely a pause.

“You see, Asher, Mrs. Hunt had to dry me off many a time after I’d been puddle jumping.”

“Just like the fwogs?”

“Precisely. Although, unlike frogs, people need towels afterward.” He reached for the towel one of the maids was holding. “Are your legs still a bit wobbly? Do you think you could stand and try out this towel?”

The sloshing increased, and Asher’s tousled head appeared above the top of the bathtub. “It’s moving.”

Alexander chuckled. “I think you are the one who’s moving, lad. It looks like you’re still a bit dizzy.” He leaned forward and lifted Asher out of the water and wrapped him in the towel. “How’s that?”

“Better.” His voice was muffled against the fabric.

“Mrs. Hunt, would you send someone to my bedchamber to ask Peters for one of my older shirts? We will have to roll up the sleeves, but it’s the closest thing we have to a nightshirt for this little fellow.”

“Right away, my lord.”

Louisa left immediately, and as Alexander moved to sit on the nearest chair with Asher, Jane glanced at her father. He was watching the earl with undisguised astonishment. Jane could scarcely blame him. Very few gentlemen would do so much for their own child—let alone a poor orphan.

“Now then, young man,” Alexander said. Asher had laid his head on Alexander’s chest and had closed his eyes. “I know how tiring taking a bath can be, but I need you to stay awake long enough to put on a nightshirt.”

“Why?”

“So that you don’t become cold tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because being cold is a decidedly miserable state to be in.”

“Why?”