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Even as she chuckled, it struck her again that she’d lost her home. For seven years she’d knitted a tale that had kept them under Winnover Hall’s roof, but a tale wouldn’t keep them in Gloucestershire any longer. She lowered her head to her lap. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Neither do I. Damnation. A shop for children might be highly improper, but it would also be exceedingly useful. We could just rent a pair for a month or two, and be done with it. The…” Mr. Pershing trailed off, then thudded his fist against one knee. “There is such a shop, you know.”
Emmie straightened. “What are you talking about? A shop that sells children?”
Mr. Pershing shook his head, leaning forward. “An orphanage,” he announced.
“An…” Emmeline gasped. “We couldn’t.”
“Why the devil not? Borrow two for the next few weeks, teach them some manners and polish. They would certainly be better off for it.”
She stared at him, a hundred thoughts bashing about against each other in her mind. “For someone who didn’t approve of me lying about offspring, you’ve adapted rather quickly.”
“Necessity,” he replied crisply. “Are we of the same mind, here? This is a project where both of us will be necessary for success.”
She’d been to orphanages during the Season in London. Bringing old clothes or treats for the children was part of her charitable duties. Her father was even on the board of one of them.
Perhaps Mr. Pershing had the right of it. They would make it known that this was a short-term adventure. What child wouldn’t want a holiday at a grand house, lovely clothes, and a visit to the Lake District? As he’d said, once they were returned, their chances of being permanently placed would be much improved.
“My father is on the board at St. Stephen’s Home for Unfortunate Children in Charing Cross,” she said aloud. “We could offer a donation to the orphanage, and explain that we’re attempting a new sort of… charitable venture.”
“‘Charitable venture,’” he repeated. “I like that. The more concisely we can word something, the more practical and logical it sounds. We’re bound for Charing Cross, then. It’s a day to London, and the same back again. Pack for two days, and we’ll leave within the hour. It’ll give me a chance to inform Lord Stafford that I’m taking an extended leave of absence. You’ll need some help with the lessons.”
She ran through it in her mind. If they had to visit several orphanages, it could take an additional day. There would be paperwork to complete, and other things neither of them could anticipate. Aside from that, this was the first time in years Mr. Pershing had asked her to accompany him on one of his frequent off-Season trips into London.
“Doing this in London could actually save us time,” she said. “We’ll need to find someone out-of-the-way to make them some clothes. Out-of-the-way is much more easily accomplished in London than in our little village. The less gossip that gets out about what we’re doing, the better.”
That made him frown. “Hold a moment. What about your other relations? Your parents? They’ll be at the party. Do they not know we are without children? Our ship will be sunk before we leave the harbor.”
Emmie grimaced. “They don’t know any such thing.”
Lifting an eyebrow, he sat back. “How have you managed that? We’ve gone to visit both sets of our parents.”
Oh dear. “As far as the rest of the family is aware, we do have children, but they are sickly, and it is a tender subject you don’t wish to discuss.” And yes, she’d felt more than a little satisfaction when she’d written to inform her mother that she had managed to have a child, even if it had been an imaginary—and sickly—infant. At the same time, she’d proven to be an exceptional and much-admired hostess. So there. Except that everyone was about to discover that she’d been lying all along.
He stared at her. “I don’t wish to discuss it. You did mean to keep our offspring from me, then. And you’ve made me the villain of the piece.”
“No, I didn’t, and no, I haven’t. I simply didn’t wish you to be surprised by someone mentioning our children, and I needed a long-term excuse to keep them out of sight.” She shrugged. “It hardly seemed necessary to pull you into this mess, or to possibly compromise your work.”
“If you’d asked my opinion, I might have disagreed about that.” The coach stopped, and they stepped down onto Winnover Hall’s white crushed-oyster-shell drive. “As I know now, you should enlighten me about any other particulars you’ve told people.”
Nodding, Emmeline joined him to head into the house. “I’ve made a journal.”
This time both eyebrows went up. “A journal. About our nonexistent offspring.”
“Well, yes. One for each of them, actually. I correspond with myriad family members and friends, and I didn’t want to contradict myself. People do talk, you know.”
For a moment he stood regarding her. “I should like to read these journals. So that I don’t contradict the tale, either.”
Now she hoped they wouldn’t seem too fanciful. Everyone thought their own offspring perfect, but she worried that she had made hers too much so. “I’ll lend them to you.” She nodded to the butler as he opened the front door. “Powell, please have Hannah join me in my bedchamber. And I will need one of the medium-sized trunks brought down from the attic.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
Mr. Pershing delivered his own request, then faced her again. “I’m glad we are allies,” he said. “All this has made me realize you would make for a rather formidable foe.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “And likewise.” That was quite possibly the most complimentary thing anyone had ever said to her. “Being feared would be very nearly as useful as being admired. But we still need to find some offspring, or our formidable partnership will serve only to make us the laughingstock of London.”
“And homeless, unemployed ones, at that,” he added, his half smile diving into something grimmer.