Hadrian detected a similarity in the fair hair and the slight roundness of the blue eyes, perhaps also in the bone structure of the face. It was hard to be certain since a child’s features were less defined than in adulthood.

Miss Fanshawe stood with one hand protectively resting on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Leo and I have traveled quite a long distance to come here.”

“And we’re very eager to hear what you have to say.” Hadrian stepped to the fireplace to pull the bell rope. “However, perhaps you’ll agree this discussion is for adult ears only.”

He’d have sent Leo downstairs from the start, but it was important that everyone have a look at him first. He went to the boy, hunkering down to his level. The wariness on that small face reminded Hadrian of himself at that age, sent here to live after the death of his father. Gently he said, “So, brat, would you rather stay here and listen to dull talk, or eat some cakes and biscuits in the kitchen?”

Leo had been hanging close to Miss Fanshawe’s skirts, but his freckled features perked up at the prospect of treats. He cast a glance up at her. “May I, Miss Fanshawe?”

She stroked her fingers through his hair. “Of course. Just not too many sweets or you’ll be sick.”

Leo hesitated. “You won’t leave while I’m gone, will you?”

“Absolutely not. I promise to come and fetch you shortly.”

The warmth of her smile touched Hadrian more than it ought. It reached deep inside of him, stirring mawkish feelings that he didn’t care to examine. One thing was clear, her devotion to Leo made her a strong advocate for the orphaned child. Hadrian could see why his cousin had entrusted her with the boy’s care.

He went to give instructions to the footman who had appeared in the doorway, while Miss Fanshawe hugged Leo before sending him on his way. Upon Hadrian’s return, he noted that the others were watching him—and Miss Fanshawe—with avid interest. Godwin appeared to be clenching his jaw, etching hard lines in his patrician features.

Wymark strolled to the sideboard. “Brandy, anyone?” he asked, waving the decanter. “You look as if you could use a drink, Clayton.”

Hadrian declined the offer with a shake of his head. He’d as soon not had Wymark present, but could hardly evict him from the drawing room in his own home. Perhaps it was just as well the family hear this together. It would save him the trouble of multiple explanations.

Lady Godwin fluttered her pale hands. “What a shoddy hostess you must think me, dear Hadrian! Though it’s nearly time for luncheon, I should have rung for refreshments.”

“Not now,” he said. “In fact, you may wish to sit down. All of you.”

Looking mystified, she obeyed, resuming her chair by the hearth and arranging her skirts. Miss Fanshawe did likewise, sitting with perfect posture, her hands folded in her lap. The only unladylike aspect about her was the vigilant way in which she studied each individual in the group.