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That made Mrs. P’s face go white. George pushed his chair back from the table before he would have to listen to either of them making more excuses why they were only borrowing children. “I don’t want to stay here,” he said. “Too many people looking sideways at us.” He headed toward the hallway, Rose skipping behind him. “And whatever you borrowed us for, we didn’t sign nothing. And we ain’t your trained monkeys.”
“Whether you like it or not, we are responsible for your safety and well-being for the next eight weeks. As you are not… trained monkeys, in one hour we will meet in the library to negotiate the terms for your cooperation. If you attempt to flee again, you will lose the advantage you currently have.” The mister sat back and picked up his teacup.
If they had an advantage, George meant to keep it. “We’ll stay here to negotiate, then. You have good food.”
“Thank God for Mrs. Brubbins and her excellent cooking,” Emmeline whispered as the children tromped up the stairs. “Donald, please ask Billet to have one of his grooms or a gardener stationed below the children’s windows, on the chance they do make another run for it.”
The footman bobbed his head and hurried out the door.
“We’re not attempting to use them as our trained monkeys, are we?” Will said once they were alone. “Because it does smack of that, Emmeline.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “In all honesty, I think they’re too young to understand the value of what we’ve offered them.”
“Then we need to offer them something they want,” he suggested.
She scowled. “They’re children. Should we trade their cooperation for a bag of sweets? That would be treating them like trained monkeys.”
“They’re children who are clearly cleverer than we were at that age.”
“Will, they were robbing Lord Graham. And Rose stole that spoon from the table just now. Are we supposed to reward them for that?” She gulped down the rest of her tea. “I may not be a parent, but I do recall something about thievery being unacceptable behavior.”
“They are still children whose cooperation we need, and clearly no amount of etiquette lessons will persuade them to behave. Yes, they tried to steal from the baron. The fact remains, though, that we need them. What do we offer them to gain their assistance?”
“A bribe?”
He sat back, gazing at her. “A trade. And yes, perhaps a bribe to convince them not to steal the Duke of Welshire’s trousers when we arrive at Welshire Park.”
“I’m delighted you still find this amusing,” she retorted, “but I didn’t expect we would be attempting to reform felons. This was supposed to be which fork to use, and how to curtsy and bow.” Emmeline blew out her breath. “I thought you’d permanently lost your sense of humor when you left for Oxford, anyway.”
That hurt a bit. “If we had bothered to speak more than two sentences at a time to each other over the past eight years, I imagine we both would have made some interesting discoveries.” Will took a breath. “You began this lie, but we are attempting to find a solution to it. Together. It’s merely a bit bumpier than we anticipated.”
She stood. “Bah. I’m trying to find a solution to a problem, not a way for our lives to come crashing down around us.”
“You expected perfect, well-behaved, spiritless children, I assume? And that the lies you told would not come back on us in any way at all, and we would slip through all obstacles like a hot knife through butter?”
“I certainly hoped for a few of those things.” Emmeline strode for the door. “I am only attempting to save Winnover Hall—and your career, by the way.”
“Thank you for saying so. I actually wasn’t certain I figured into your calculations at all.”
“For heaven’s sake, how many times do you expect me to apologize for lying to my grandfather? And everything I’ve done since we married has been for your career. You would certainly not be more comfortable at your tiny house in York. We would have to live at Pershing House all year round, and you could wave goodbye to all your hunting and shooting and fishing excursions. And your weekend fetes where you try to charm parliamentarians into funding roads and canals.”
“I’m aware of the consequences.”
“Of course my actions were meant to benefit both of us. And I did apologize for entangling you without your knowledge. I saw a problem within the household, and I managed it. That’s what I do. And so now you get to do your favorite thing and negotiate. I would suggest mentioning something about no more pickpocketing, but since you find them amusing and this problem originated with me, I suppose I’ll be the one to correct their behavior.”
“Stomp off, then, but I still want to see your journals. I believe I have a right to know our children, even if they only exist on paper.”
“Fine. There they are. Have at them.” Gesturing at the pair of leather-bound books on the table, she left the small dining room, and a moment later Will heard her bedchamber door close.
“Sterling, Will,” he muttered.
He knew she’d become obsessed with perfection. How perfect were their lives, though, if two days of living with children, two days of spending time together, could upend so much, and set them at each other’s throats? Will finished off a last piece of bacon. Perhaps their lives hadn’t been perfect, as much as they’d been… simple. Easy. Uncomplicated.
Well, they weren’t any of those things at the moment. Nor could they return to those times until they’d managed to navigate their way through this mess of pint-sized pickpockets and confidence men.
Taking a breath, he slid the journals closer, choosing the one with “Malcolm” written in neat letters across the front and opening it. He expected lists, paragraphs of characteristics, dates for important milestones.
This wasn’t lists, though. The very first line made that clear. “We have a son,” it read. “We’ve decided to name him Malcolm, after my grandfather. He’s a sweet thing, with a mop of hair the color of Mr. Pershing’s, and blue eyes that I’m certain have a bit of green in them already.”