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Simon attempted to gather his wits. He could scarcely comprehend a scenario that included ladies in the chambers of Parliament. It was as unthinkable as a gentleman taking to the air in flight. He ran his fingers through his hair. This conversation had become fully out of hand.

“She was voted into power by the people of Yorkshire,” Miss Crawford said, and then, as if sensing his disbelief, she continued. “By the turn of the nineteenth century, women in England will begin entering the workforce, taking on jobs in the mines and on farms. That movement continues to grow as new industries spring up across the country. In the early twentieth century, women are granted a vote in elections, and in the England I know, there are very few things that a woman cannot aspire to do or achieve.”

“Including running the country,” Simon said.

Miss Crawford’s smile blossomed. “We’ve already had a couple of female Prime Ministers. From the mid-1700s on, that’s the highest elected position in the country.”

Simon’s mind was reeling, and he could not tell where to place the blame. Miss Crawford’s outrageous claims about life in the future were staggering, but the fact that it was becoming more and more difficult to believe that she could fabricate such things was far more disturbing. If she was truly who she claimed to be, the ramifications of her arrival here were immeasurable. Then again, his visceral response to the warmth of her full smile may well be the most immeasurably concerning thing of all.

He needed to leave this bench and experience some normalcy, but he couldn’t very well leave Miss Crawford here alone. Until he and the Maidstones determined the seriousness of her instability, she should not be left alone anywhere in the house or on the grounds. Being among other people would be a good thing. Preferably people who would accept the unusual young lady’s presence without questioning her background and who would not care one jot if Simon was struggling to string his thoughts into a coherent whole.

He rose to his feet. “Come,” he said. “We have conversed long enough for now. I have completed my morning ride, and you have ascertained that the Maidstones’ woodshed is nothing more than a woodshed. It is time that we returned to the house. After so fraught a discussion, I believe we would both benefit from a visit to the nursery.”

“Now?” She stood. “Didn’t you say Lady Maidstone won’t be up yet?”

“I did. Which is precisely why it is the perfect time.” The thought of being with his nephews lifted his spirits. “If Martha is in her chambers still, the boys will be free to be their naturally boisterous selves.”

“The boys or you?” Miss Crawford asked.

Grateful that their conversation had turned to a more lighthearted subject, he grinned. “I believe it would be safer if I opted not to answer that question.”

“I see.” She eyed him speculatively. “I am beginning to understand why Lady Maidstone was so reluctant to have you visit the nursery last night.”

With a soft chuckle, he offered her his arm. “Being with Will and Sam will be a pleasant diversion from your troubles. You shall see.”

The servant, Hobbes, was at the door when Isla and Lord Bancroft entered the house. Lord Bancroft offered the man his hat, and rather reluctantly, Isla handed over Lord Bancroft’s cloak. There was no fireplace in the entrance hall, and the temperature in the drafty room didn’t feel any warmer than it had outside.

“If Lord or Lady Maidstone inquire after me or Miss Crawford, please tell them we have gone to the nursery and will join them for breakfast shortly,” Lord Bancroft said.

Hobbes inclined his head politely. “Very good, my lord.”

Somewhat surprised that Lord Bancroft was willing to postpone eating in exchange for time with his nephews, Isla walked with him across the hall and up the stairs. On the landing, they turned right, away from the room Isla had used the night before. They hadn’t gone far when the sound of young voices reached them from the end of the hall. Lord Bancroft continued until he reached a closed door on the left.

Pausing, he set his hand on the doorknob. “Prepare yourself,” he warned. “They may be a little rambunctious.”

Isla smiled. “I have three nephews. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them, but I know all about rambunctious boys.”

He nodded, and although Isla received the distinct impression that he wasn’t fully convinced, he opened the door and ushered her in ahead of him.

A fire burned brightly in the fireplace, and the room was blissfully warm. A rug covered a good portion of the wooden floor, and a large, multipaned window let in the morning sunlight. In one corner of the room, two young boys who looked so alike, they had to be twins occupied the small stools positioned at a low wooden table. A middle-aged woman stood nearby, her gray gown covered in a white apron. Isla guessed that she was the nursemaid. The boys were eating their breakfast, but the moment they caught sight of Lord Bancroft, all thought of food seemingly fled. Scrambling to their feet, they hurled themselves at the gentleman with cries of delight.

“Uncle Simon!” they called in unison.

The young boy wearing tan breeches and a red jacket narrowly beat his brother in the green jacket across the room, and seconds later, Lord Bancroft had a child attached to each leg.

“What is this?” Lord Bancroft said, feigning shock as he tousled both boys’ fair hair. “The last time I visited, two four-year-olds dressed in gowns lived here, and now there are two young men.”

“We had a birthday, Uncle Simon!” the boy in green cried. “And Mother said we must wear breeches.”

“Just as Father and you do,” the child in red said.

“Good heavens,” Lord Bancroft said. “Does that mean you are too grown up to play with me?”

“No!” They both laughed, and then the one in green reached for Lord Bancroft’s hand.

“We have new animals. Come and see!”

“Just a moment.” There must have been something in Lord Bancroft’s voice that caused the boys to pause, because the tugging on his arm suddenly stopped. “I would not have thought that you would both so quickly forget your manners?”