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The look he sent her said more than that, though. She frowned. Of course. They would be returning to that stone jug in a few short weeks. No encouraging them to detest it any more than they probably already did. “Shaved ices, indeed,” she said, putting a smile back on her face.
“I don’t want new clothes,” George stated. “These is fine.”
“These are fine,” Mr. Pershing corrected. “And they are not fine. The grand adventure we have in mind for you will require a more extensive wardrobe.”
“You can’t turn George into a dandy,” Rose observed. “I would be happy to be a princess, though.” She turned around and sat down again, her feet dangling well short of the floor of the coach. “I have a very important question.”
Emmie sent Mr. Pershing an amused glance. Little darlings. “We’re listening.”
“I need a pink gown. With yellow stripes. And a bonnet that matches.”
While not a question, it was certainly adorable. “I believe we can manage that,” Emmie answered. “And some pretty shoes, as well.”
“Oh yes. Shoes. Shoes are very important.”
“So they are. What about you, George? Do you have a request?”
The eight-year-old shook his head. “Do you live in London?” he asked.
“During the Season, we do. Our main residence, though, is Winnover Hall, in Gloucestershire. That’s where we’ll be heading in the morning.”
“How far away is that?”
“It’ll take us most of a day to get there,” Mr. Pershing continued. “We’ll stay overnight at our house here.”
“They don’t have orphanages in Gloucestershire?”
Her husband’s brow furrowed. “I imagine they do. Mrs. Pershing’s father is on the board of St. Stephen’s, though, so we thought to travel here to find you.”
The boy’s head swiveled to examine Emmie again. “I thought I seen you before. You bring sweets, sometimes.”
She nodded. “I do.” And in the future, she would also be bringing a selection of clothes, blankets, and books.
“You never borrowed no one before, though.”
“No. This is our first time.”
“But you’ll borrow more after this?”
Well, that wasn’t very likely. “I suppose we’ll see how this turns out. How do you think it will turn out?”
George shrugged. “That ain’t for me to say, Mrs. Pershing.”
Oh, that wouldn’t do. She sat forward a little. “For the purposes of our adventure, what say you and Rose call us Mama and Papa? Is that acceptable?”
“But you said we had to go back,” Rose protested.
“Yes, but not for eight weeks. And in the meantime, I hardly want to spend all of my time explaining to everyone we meet that no, these aren’t my children, and yes, they are supposed to be accompanying me. It’s so much easier to just call us Mama and Papa, don’t you think?”
“I don’t—”
“We can do that,” George interrupted his sister. “So we’re supposed to be George and Rose Pershing?”
Not exactly. “Well, it’s quite silly, but—”
“Yes, that’ll do for now,” Mr. Pershing cut her off.
She opened her mouth to argue, because names would be the one thing they couldn’t afford to stumble over. But giving them a few moments to accept one oddity before she sprang another on them made sense. Especially since that oddity included changing their names from George and Rose to Malcolm and Flora.