KDBookOnline
Share Us
Before anyone could point out that the Fletchers wouldn’t be at Winnover by the time a wedding took place, Emmie grinned at her. “I think we should wait until Hannah tells us her news, and then we could suggest it. If perhaps she should need a flower girl, you would make yourself available. Something like that.”
“But—”
“Because, as you know, Brockworth is only an hour away,” Emmie pushed over George’s objection. “So, wherever you are, you would be available.”
“Does that mean we would still get to see you?”
Emmie pressed her palm against her heart so it wouldn’t break and fall out of her chest. “I insist upon it, Rose.”
“Flora,” Rose whispered. “We’re still practicing.”
“Yes. Right you are, Flora. Now, you and Malcolm finish up your breakfast. We’re only an hour away from Welshire Park, and the birthday celebration will have begun in earnest.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hopefully they had reviewed everything the children would encounter. Emmie’s parents, Sir Fitzwilliam and Lady Anne Hervey, were to be addressed as Grandmama and Grandpapa, and the little ones would have no reason to recognize anyone at all. They had gone over the names and relationships in general, so once they met Frederick Chase they would know he was Cousin Penelope’s oldest, and when they were introduced to ten-year-old Roderick, Lord Ramsey, they would know to bow, as he was third in line to inherit the dukedom.
But they were little, and couldn’t be expected to remember everything. As long as they kept to their manners and their names and didn’t mention the orphanage or larceny, everything should go swimmingly. Emmie crossed her fingers. It would go swimmingly.
After breakfast they took the first coach and headed down the lane, leaving Hannah and Davis and the majority of their luggage to follow. “Flora and I couldn’t help noticing,” George said as he turned away from the window and sank back on the plush leather seat, “that you’ve been sharing a bedchamber at the inns where we’ve been staying, Mama and Papa.”
Emmie’s face warmed. “Malcolm and Flora are far too young to be paying attention to such things.”
“And I saw you kiss this morning,” Rose pointed out, making smacking sounds with her lips. “I think it’s romantic.”
“As do I,” Will noted from his seat opposite Emmie.
“Mm-hmm. So, tell me, Flora, who is Lucy Chase to you?”
Rose squeezed her eyes closed. “She is our second cousin, and she’s six years old,” she said, opening them again. “She has curly blond hair.”
“Very good. Malcolm, tell me about Roderick Ramsey.”
“He’s Lord Ramsey,” George said, sitting straighter. “He’s ten, and his father is Lord Talmot, the Duke of Welshire’s oldest grandson. Talmot’s father is Lord Heyton, the Duke of Welshire’s oldest son.”
“Good. And what rank is Lord Ramsey?”
“He’s a viscount. His papa is an earl, his grandpapa is a marquis, and his great-grandpapa is the Duke of Welshire.”
“Excellent. If you don’t know who someone is, just ask. With so many relations there, I’m not certain even I would know them all. Oh, and Malcolm, don’t forget—you are seven years old.”
George made a face. “I’m much older than that. Seven is little.”
“Yes, but eight would mean that Emmeline and I had a child out of wedlock,” Will quipped.
“Deirdre was had out of wedlock,” Rose supplied.
“And who is Deirdre, pray tell?” Emmie asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Oh. Deirdre is a friend of ours from back at Winnover Hall.” Rose leaned forward. “Is that right?”
“Yes. But please try not to mention anyone from the stone jug. It will complicate things greatly.”
George laughed. “You said a slang.”
Emmie put on an innocent look. “Did I?”
They settled into a reasonably peaceful rest of their drive, though the children sitting on the edge of their seats was a good indicator that they remained nervous. She was nervous, as well; she would be piling more lies onto the ones she’d been telling everyone up to and including her own parents for the past seven years.