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Emmie looked at him for a long moment. Of course he expected to find a solution, because that was what he did. “If you think of one, please tell me. I promise I will be amenable.”
“Likewise, my dear.”
When she headed downstairs, Rose in her festive pink dress was explaining to the innkeeper that she liked visiting different inns every day, because she could ask for trifle after dinner every night and it wasn’t too much burden on any one cook—which it evidently was for Mrs. Brubbins.
“All of Mrs. Brubbins’s desserts are delightful,” Emmie said, sitting beside Rose and opposite Will and George. “Making the same one every night would be tiresome, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but eating them isn’t at all tiresome.”
With a chuckle the innkeeper gave the little girl a bow. “I shall tell my wife that you adored her trifle. You’ll have her smiling for days, young miss.”
After he left the table, Rose leaned over Emmie’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to tell him,” she whispered, “that Mrs. Brubbins’s trifle is better than his wife’s. He doesn’t need to know that.”
“Very wise of you,” Emmie whispered back, and kissed the girl’s cheek.
Rose giggled. “I am so wise.”
That was the way to do this. The way she and Will had been proceeding—giving the children the best experiences they could manage, giving them time to have fun, to laugh, to be children. The worrying and crying—well, that was for her to do. Not George and Rose.
“Are you two ready?” Will asked. “The easiest approach would probably be not to speak unless you’re spoken to. You can always pretend to be shy.”
“Well, we’ve been sickly,” Rose stated. “Should we cough every now and then? I could faint. I’m a good fainter.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead and sank down on the bench.
“The idea is to be unnoticed,” her brother said. “Don’t say much, and don’t be remembered.”
“But have fun,” Will put in. “Remember? Cakes and pies and God knows what else.”
“How many days do we stay after the party?” George picked at his eggs. “Doing all the pretending today will be easy. It’s always easier to lie when everyone’s paying attention to something else, like dancing or a party. After that, though, I’m worried Rose might forget that she’s supposed to be Flora.”
“I wrote my grandfather that we would only be able to stay for three nights because of Will’s—your papa’s—work, and we’re already a day late.”
“Because the coach threw a wheel,” Rose recited. “I wasn’t scared, though.”
That had been the simplest story, and Roger their driver had agreed to tell it as well, if asked. The Winnover staff making the impossible possible for them once again. “You were very brave, Flora.”
“Thank you, Mama,” the girl quipped. “By the way, you look lovely. I think I might like a lavender gown, too, one day. A very fancy one, with beads like yours.”
Out of the corner of her eye Emmie saw George open his mouth then shut it again. That was George, looking out for his sister even if it meant declining to remind her that the daughter of a solicitor likely wouldn’t have many occasions to wear a fancy lavender gown. Of course he might well intend to go live under a church again, which would also preclude fancy attire. She and Will were going to have to post guards when they returned.
“You would look lovely in lavender,” Emmie said, smiling. “But my goodness, you are spectacular in pink.”
“Yes, I am. George—I mean, Malcolm—looks handsome, too. Davis tied his cravat for him.”
“Davis helped me tie my cravat as well,” Will said, tugging a little at the simple ruffles.
“I tried it first, but I made a knot,” Emmie confessed, chuckling.
Will buttered his toast. “Nearly strangled me, she did.”
Even George grinned at that. Good. “Please have fun today, dears. You’ve worked very hard, and I know you’ll do your best. That’s all we ask of you.”
George took a bite of egg. “I’m not supposed to tell,” he said, “but I heard Billet talking before we left. He asked Hannah to marry him. He bought a cottage at the near end of Birdlip for the two of them.”
Emmie blinked. Her Hannah? The woman had never said a word about it. Of course, everyone knew that she’d been making moon eyes at Tom Billet for better than three years, but this… “Are you certain?”
The boy nodded. “I know things.”
Grasping her hands together, Rose squealed. “A wedding? Can I be the flower girl?”