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“Riding lessons, then. Just for a bit of fun.” Will grinned at her. “Brilliant, once again,” he muttered, and kissed her on the cheek. “I’d wager we won’t hear any more about a puppy after this.”
She didn’t flinch this time. Instead, Emmeline grinned back at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Oh, by the way, Hannah and I found an old riding habit of mine in the attic, and Hannah is modifying it for Rose as a surprise. Her riding lessons won’t be able to begin until tomorrow, though, or it won’t be finished.”
“I know you never thought riding worth the time it would take away from the other lessons, but James and theoretical small dogs aside, Rose will be beside herself with excitement. This is something she will never forget. And yes, riding lessons will therefore begin in the morning.”
He wondered what would happen if James mentioned getting a kitten for Rose. No doubt he would awaken to see giraffes in the yard. And yes, James remained a problem, but at the moment he was one they could more or less ignore, a wiseacre who thought he could gain a few free meals and a comfortable room before no doubt asking for a large sum to support his lofty dreams—and his brother and sister, of course. When that happened, he and Emmeline would have a decision to make, and he hoped he had some answers from London before that time came.
George muttered something Emmie couldn’t make out. “Try sounding out the word,” she said. “You know the sound a ‘p’ generally makes, and an ‘n.’ When it’s at the end of a word a ‘y’ almost always sounds like ‘ee.’”
“And the ‘o’?”
“Without any other vowels beside it, it only makes two different sounds.”
“Give it up, Georgie,” James commented from his spot lounging on the sofa. “All your whining is hurting my head.” He reached over and took another half dozen biscuits from the plate on the table.
“I ain’t whining,” George said, his jaw clenched. “This is hard. I’d wager you couldn’t do it.”
His brother swung his feet to the floor and sat up straight. “Do you want to wager whether Mrs. P there gives a damn if you learn your letters or not? Go learn to shovel shite in the stable. That’ll serve you better.”
Emmie bit the inside of her cheek. It would be better not to say anything. James Fletcher claimed he had the right to leave with the children whenever he chose, and at this moment she and Will couldn’t dispute that. She leaned closer to the eight-year-old. “Sound out what you know, and see if you can figure out the rest.”
Taking a breath, George tried. “P-n-ee. Oh. It’s ‘pony,’ ain’t it?”
“Well done!” She kissed his cheek.
George grinned. “Pony.”
“Sterling, Georgie,” his brother piped up again. “I was wrong. Now the missus can trot you out in front of her old granddad and you can read a word you’ll never use again in your life.” He chuckled. “You should teach him useful words, at least. ‘Orphanage’ and ‘constable’ and the like.”
“Stop it, James. At least I’m trying to learn something.”
“Yes, perhaps you’d care to come over here and read something for us, Mr. Fletcher,” Emmie put in.
Narrowed eyes pinned her. “I’m only saying you’re wasting your time. George’ll be a bricklayer or a rag-and-bone man or a whale tonguer like our pa. Nothing you teach him will change that.”
Trying to keep her jaw from clenching, Emmie smiled at him. “I prefer to think that for every word he learns, a new door is opened to his future.” She shrugged. “And who knows? Perhaps one day George might agree to teach you how to read and write. Even if it wouldn’t aid the work you do.”
George snorted. James, though, rolled to his feet and strode up to her, moving faster than she expected. For a heartbeat she thought he meant to strike her. Powell must have thought so as well, because abruptly the butler was between the two of them, a teapot in his hand.
“More tea, Mrs. Pershing?” he asked.
James turned on his heel and left the room. “You should be careful,” George whispered. “James gets mad sometimes.”
All the more reason to keep the brother as far away from the children as they could manage. She sent up yet another prayer that one of Will’s contacts in London would know of some obscure law that would keep James Fletcher from… inheriting his siblings. Unless she was being selfish because they were presently under her care—and it remained vital that they stay for the next few weeks.
Perhaps this was all a punishment, more complications piled on top of complications she’d caused in the first place. “I will be cautious,” she said, since George had bothered to warn her. “Thank you for telling me.” She sent Powell a smile, holding up her teacup. “And thank you, Powell. Your timing, as always, was impeccable.”
The butler inclined his head. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
Will waited on the landing while Emmeline and Hannah went to awaken Rose with her new riding habit. The happy shouts coming from the girl’s bedchamber made him smile. It was easy to forget that Rose was part of a team of pickpockets and thieves, though her task seemed mostly to be distracting onlookers. She was very good at that, and for the moment, he chose not to consider what another few years of lawbreaking would make her. They were going to change that future, he and Emmeline.
“Did they dress us the same on purpose?” George asked, stepping out of his own room.
It was rather unsettling; both of them in dark coats, buckskin trousers, and black beaver hats. “I don’t think so,” he said, reaching out to tap the brim of the boy’s hat with one finger. “Hats are for out-of-doors,” he said, indicating the one he held in his hand.
“Don’t know why,” the boy said, pulling his off his head. “These ones don’t keep off the rain.”
“Yes, they are rather useless. But they’re also fashionable.”