Teddy exhaled a frustrated breath. “If you’re asking whether or not I can move my legs, the answer is yes. They’re not without feeling. But they’re too weak to be of any use to me. I can’t climb the stairs, or leap in and out of a carriage. Up until this spring, our manservant was obliged to carry me up and down the stairs like a babe.”

“What happened?”

“His rheumatism became worse, that’s what happened. He doesn’t have the strength anymore.”

Alex picked up a sheet of paper, examining the delicate lines of the sketch. Teddy Hayes was talented. Gifted, even. He shouldn’t be shut up in his room, looking at birds through a poorly washed window. “Your aunt was very weak when we brought her back from the church,” he said casually. “I had to lift her onto her bed.”

Teddy’s gaze jerked up. “Did you?”

“Quite easily.” Alex paused. “I’ll help you down to the parlor, if you like.”

Teddy stared at him. “Now?” His Adam’s apple bobbed on a swallow. “But you’re leaving directly, aren’t you? How would I get back upstairs?”

Alex returned the sheet of paper to the desk. “I suppose I shall just have to stay awhile longer.”

Chapter 9

“At the age of thirteen? Alone in Paris?” Teddy stared at Mr. Archer, the plate of mutton and potatoes in front of him quite forgotten. “How did you survive?”

“In great style,” Mr. Archer said.

Teddy and Aunt Charlotte burst into peals of laughter.

Laura managed a smile of her own as she sipped her glass of wine.

Mr. Archer had stayed for Sunday dinner.

She still couldn’t quite believe it. Even as she watched him banter with Teddy, it felt like a dream. An impossible one, at that.

Not only had he helped her brother downstairs, he’d promised to stay long enough to help him back to his room at the evening’s end.

It was an unexpected kindness. One for which Laura should have been grateful. And she was grateful. Just as grateful as she’d been when he helped Aunt Charlotte.

She was also vaguely suspicious.

After so many days of avoiding her, why had Mr. Archer decided to linger? To help Teddy, and to dine with them, entertaining them with stories from his life on the continent?

Was this more of him playing the chameleon? Or was this Mr. Archer at last being himself?

“But how?” Teddy asked.

“I’d been on holiday with my godfather in Alexandria,” Mr. Archer said. “He was detained on business, and sent me back to Marseilles ahead of him on the steamer. During the journey, I had the good fortune to meet a well-to-do traveler. He took me about France with him for a time. Told people I was his son.”

Teddy went off into another gale of laughter.