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“Very like,” Emmeline agreed. “In exchange for this perfect house, though, the king had one demand to which the prince and princess had to agree. And—”
“Oh, I know this one,” Rose interrupted again. “Never go into the woods at night.” Her eyes widened. “Did they? Was there wolves?”
The matchup between Emmeline’s rarely ruffled sense of order and Rose’s very loose hold on her imagination was rather hilarious. And would quite possibly end in fisticuffs. “Were there?” Will asked.
His wife shot him an annoyed look. “No wolves. The demand was that the prince and princess have children. And they tried, but they couldn’t.”
“Oh dear. It must have been a witch’s curse. Deirdre said her uncle was cursed by a witch, and it made his boy thing fall off. Witches are nasty creatures.”
“Good heavens! No, it wasn’t a witch’s curse. It was just… bad luck. But anyway, the king never came to visit, and the prince and princess never told him they had no children. In fact, after a time the princess pretended they did have children, and she made up stories about how wonderful they were and sent letters about the pretend children to her family, and everyone was perfectly happy that way. It went this way for years, until one day, the king sent word that he was holding a grand birthday party for himself, and that he wanted to meet his great-grandchildren.”
Rose gasped. “Oh no! Did the king cut off the prince and princess’s heads?”
“Now it’s getting interesting,” George commented, putting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands.
Will agreed. With a grimace, Emmeline curled her fingers around the edge of her journals. Considering that an hour ago she’d meant to give the children a summary of the actual facts, Will doubted she’d had time to construct the ending of this fairy tale. Hell, they still didn’t know how it would end.
“You see,” she began, “the prince and princess were clever. They were able to find some children who perfectly matched the descriptions she’d written, and they all went to the king’s birthday party and were able to fool everyone. And so they were able to keep their house, with no one the wiser. The end.”
“No witches at all?” Rose said, frowning. “And no magic?”
“Wait a minute.” George straightened. “You’re the princess and the prince, ain’t you? We’re the children.”
“What do you mean, Georgie?”
Clever boy. “Yes, you are,” Will said aloud. “Emmeline’s grandfather is the Duke of Welshire. He is going to be celebrating his seventieth birthday in just under six weeks. He lives in Cumberland, and wants all of his family to join him there for a grand party.”
“And you was supposed to have children, and you never did. So you borrowed us from the stone jug so you can keep this house.”
“Yes,” Emmeline said crisply, smiling her charming smile. “All of the duke’s children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, cousins, nephews, nieces—everyone will be there.”
George dug the tip of one forefinger into the tabletop. “You lied. To a duke.”
Rose continued to look dissatisfied. “I still think this could be a witch’s curse. Are you certain there’s no evil witch?”
“No witch, I’m sorry to say.” Will picked up his glass of port and took a swallow, mostly to cover his grin. The little one was relentless. “As Emmeline explained, the problem is that without children, the duke will take the house from us. She grew up here, and we both adore it.”
“I’m confused,” Rose said. “Are we your children now?”
“No, Rosie. They only need us for the party.”
That sounded… horrible. And yet there the children were, all set to be returned to St. Stephen’s in eight weeks. “Perhaps you could think of it as a holiday from London,” Will said aloud. “Fishing, fine clothes, fine food, and then for a few days at the end George will be Malcolm, our imaginary seven-year-old son, and Rose will be Flora, our five-year-old daughter.”
Rose put her hands on her hips. “Wait a moment. If I’m choosing a name, I wish to be Lydia.”
“Don’t be a goose, Rosie. The point is, this is why they only need us for a few weeks.” He glanced at Emmeline. “At least you told us that.”
“Oh, George.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You will have fun here. And we will teach you so many things that will help you find a family, and work.”
He shrugged out of her grip without bothering to be politic about it. A boy unaccustomed to having comforting arms wrapped around him. “Things like what?”
“Riding a horse,” Will stated, aiming for winning them over. “Shooting and fencing. Fishing.”
“Oh, I want to learn to fence,” Rose said, shifting to put her folded legs under her bottom. “That’s swords, ain’t it?”
“Rapiers.” Will narrowed one eye. “Yes, swords.”
“Rose, you’re to learn embroidery, dance, and the pianoforte.” Emmeline sent him another look, as if Rose’s wishes were his fault. That said, he could practically read her thoughts—they didn’t have time to allow Rose to muck about with swordplay, or either of them with horses. In Emmeline’s mind, fun would be arranging flowers, no doubt.