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The boy narrowed one eye. “Liars make promises, too.”
Evidently George Fletcher was a wizened old grandfather trapped in an eight-year-old’s body. “They aren’t even late yet,” Will observed, sending up a quick prayer that Emmeline wouldn’t turn them both into promise-making liars.
“Yet.”
Before he could conjure a distraction, wheels rattled to a stop outside, and a moment later the narrow window to the left of the door darkened. Will stood, crossing the foyer in one long step, and pulled open the door. “Mrs. Pershing,” he said, bowing.
“Oh! Mr. Pershing.” Her quick, excited smile made him grin in return. She’d been successful, then. And timely, though he hadn’t doubted for more than a moment that she would be. Since their marriage, perfection had become her byword.
“Look at me, Georgie!” Rose exclaimed, spinning in a pale green circle, arms out and a new pink bonnet held in one hand. “I’m a lady!”
“It’s pretty,” her brother said, tugging at the sleeves of his new dark blue coat. “But you ain’t a lady.”
She stomped her foot. “I am! Look at me. Lucifer’s balls.”
“Rose!” Emmeline chastised, covering her mouth with a hand that didn’t quite hide her grin. “A lady does not use such language.”
“I told you that you wasn’t a lady.” George folded his arms over his chest.
“Well, you look like the man who drives the hearse,” his sister retorted.
“That’s it.” George stood up and began shedding his coat. “I ain’t a carrion hunter!”
“I think you look very handsome, George,” Emmeline countered. “We will be the envy of everyone who sees us when we go get our ices.”
Will nodded. “Now, perhaps you two would like to see where you’ll be sleeping tonight before we head out?” he suggested. “George insisted on remaining in the foyer until his sister appeared.”
“Ah. I made you a promise, George,” Emmeline said, gently tugging the boy’s coat back up over his slender shoulders. “As you can see, I kept it.”
“As I said you would,” Will seconded. “I had Landon open two more rooms for tonight, by the way.”
“Two rooms?” Rose whispered, moving closer to her brother.
Her tone, equal parts awestruck and worried, hit Will in the gut. No doubt they were accustomed to a dozen or more children sharing sleeping quarters. “Yes,” he said aloud, while Emmeline handed over her shopping acquisitions to Hannah as that young lady arrived downstairs. The maid sent only one quick glance at the children, so she’d been told something. He wondered what it might have been. His wife had stories ready for every occasion and contingency, it seemed. “One for each of you,” he said. “They have a connecting door, which you may of course leave open if you wish.”
The siblings exchanged a look, and George nodded. “As long as the door stays open.”
“We’ll make certain your bedchambers at Winnover Hall also adjoin,” Will went on, now that he understood the sticking point. George and Rose each needed to know where the other one was. He had the feeling they’d had only each other to rely on for some time. “Shall we go see them?” He motioned them toward the stairs, taking Emmeline’s hand and wrapping it around his forearm.
“This is going well, I think,” she murmured, as they led the way upstairs.
He leaned his head down by hers, the delicate lavender scent of her hair intimate and arousing. It was almost as if being forced to admit a lie, an imperfection, had brought her back to life. Whatever it was, she had him wishing all over again that she saw him as other than a project and a partner. And it had him wondering how long it had been since they’d shared a bed. “I have a suspicion they’re worried we mean to change our minds. George made a point of asking me more than once how far away Winnover is, and when we would be leaving London.”
“That makes sense. Sister Mary Stephen is the stuff of nightmares.” She gave an exaggerated shudder.
“She did seem rather… stern,” he said with a half grin. “We need to tell Landon something, as well. I presume you spoke to Hannah?”
“I did. I’m still figuring the tale out, but I’ll take him aside. They are sweet little things, aren’t they? It’s almost a shame we have to return them.” She sighed. “But Lady Graham and Lord and Lady Baskin and the Hendersens and all our neighbors in Gloucestershire know quite well that we’ve never been seen with or mentioned children. They’re expected not to be seen in London, but back at Winnover suddenly appearing with them could ruin everything just as much as appearing without them at Welshire Park.”
The logic was faultless, if a bit cold. “You’re correct, of course.”
“So many windows,” Rose marveled as they topped the stairs. “And I ain’t never seen so many doors!”
“The open doors on either side of the suit of armor there are yours,” Emmeline said, pointing. “Choose whichever you like.”
Holding hands, the children ran into the first room, Rose making happy squealing sounds. “Look at the bed! It’s grand! And so many pillows!”
Evidently Rose hadn’t seen “so many” of a great deal of things. The fact that pillows could so easily delight her was both charming and sad. If Emmeline didn’t instruct the staff to give the girl piles of pillows, he would do so himself. A pair of maids took the last of the coverings off the dressing table and the yellow-and-red-striped chair set before the fireplace, and Rose twirled about the room, green skirts akimbo, while George gazed out one of the windows.