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“I… I may have had a glass or two of whiskey, but it was only to settle my nerves, because I dreaded telling you that we are about to be removed from our home.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Two entire glasses of whiskey?”
She grimaced. “Perhaps it was three.”
Or four. “Ah. Plainly I should have inquired about that beforehand. We might have begged off tonight and made a better attempt tomorrow.”
Emmeline stared at him as if he’d sprouted a third eye. “You’re not opposed to borrowing someone else’s children?”
“In truth, Mrs. Pershing, I thought it was quite brilliant.”
Her cheeks blushed a pretty rose. “Oh.”
“I am fond of Winnover Hall, and I know quite well how much it means to you. I don’t wish to lose it over a failure to meet an absurd requirement any more than you do.” Not only was Winnover her beloved childhood home and a lovely place, it was close enough to London that he could still be available to the trade ministry, and far enough away that he could set work aside once he arrived in Gloucestershire.
With its multiple sitting rooms and movable ballroom walls, it was perfect for large or small gatherings. Aside from all of its various physical attributes, residing at Winnover Hall felt… peaceful, and he was loath to give it up because nature had decided to spite the Pershing household.
She continued to eye him. In all honesty, he did understand her surprise. While he didn’t agree that he and logic were interchangeable and statue-like, he did have a good head for facts and figures. Flights of imagination weren’t something in which either of them was accustomed to indulging. Not for the past eight years, anyway. And yet there they both were, flapping their wings.
“As I consider it, those Hendersens were the wrong ages,” she stated, waving a hand in dismissal. “Well-behaved, yes, but the girl could never pass for a five-year-old.”
“I had that same thought, after I caught on. The boy would have done, but without a daughter we’re no better off than if we had no children at all to present.”
“We have no children to present.”
He grimaced. “Yes. I find, however, now that you’ve hatched this scheme, I rather approve. And the Hendersen children are not the only young ones in this corner of Gloucestershire.”
“I… You want to continue with this… stratagem? After the mess I made of things? With your African trade routes?”
“I do, by God.” He wanted to be able to remain here, and not only because the Arriss House property was up in Yorkshire. She wanted to remain, with him, and once upon a time he’d been desperately in love with her. So long ago he’d nearly forgotten it, but then at odd moments, like the present one, he remembered. “But do you wish to continue? Because as you just so cleverly demonstrated, this task will take both of us.”
Her pause made him wonder if she’d sobered up enough to reconsider her mad plan. “Who would we ask?” she queried after a moment. “Lady Graham’s daughter Elizabeth is some fourteen years too old, and Lord and Lady Baskin have a babe of but one.”
“There are other children about, Mrs. Pershing. Farmer Dawkins has seven or eight, at the least.” It was more than that, but he’d stopped counting after eleven.
“Dawkins?” she repeated, her curved eyebrows lifting. “There are at least twelve children now. But our son and daughter are meant to be the great-grandchildren of a duke.”
“Our son and daughter do not, at present, exist. And no one else would believe anything to be odd about their parentage, because we would be the parents.”
Emmeline gazed at him, her features, he noticed, more elegant and slender now than they had been when she was eighteen, and she’d been stunning then. Her pretty brown eyes mirrored her surprise and, unless he was greatly mistaken, approval. “You know, Mr. Pershing, I think this conversation may be the longest we’ve shared in better than a year.”
“Yes, I believe it is. It is definitely the most… unexpected.” And rather delightful, actually. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d attempted more than a compliment on a fine soiree. Shabby of a husband, but she’d declared this to be a partnership, and nothing more.
“Well. It’s pleasant to have an ally. And as we’ve already demonstrated, together we have a much greater chance of success. You are, I have found, brilliant at times.”
“Well, if I’m to be a logic statue, I suppose I’d prefer to be a brilliant one.”
Squaring her shoulders, she stood. “Very well. I shall go have a word with Mrs. Dawkins. Perhaps I’ll bring her the remainder of Mrs. Brubbins’s biscuits.”
“You will remain here,” he cut in, “because it is well after dark. Go to bed, Mrs. Pershing.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I am not some recalcitrant child.”
“No, you aren’t. But this has been a day full of surprises, already. I rather expected that it wouldn’t take me seven years to realize I had a child, for instance. Children, rather.”
She made a face, her pert nose scrunching up. “I did not mean to cause you trouble, you know. I only did what I thought was best for the both of us.”
He paused. “I do not like the lie,” he said, even though the idea that she’d done something so out of character captivated him, “but I do understand the reason for it. And given that the lie has happened, the direction of most benefit to us would seem to be to make it appear to be the truth. Therefore, first thing in the morning we will make a plan, and we will call on the Dawkinses. Together.” If this was to be the last act of their partnership, at least it would be a memorable one.