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“Do we have to wait here?” George asked, leaning over the banister to peer down into the foyer. “If Rosie has a new dress, she’ll be looking at herself in the mirror all morning.”
With a grin Will shook his head. “We could go take a look at the ponies. As the oldest, you should have first choice.”
“I ain’t afraid of horses. That’s just Rosie blabbing things. You do have to watch ’em; some of ’em ain’t very friendly when you walk by too close.”
He could imagine, especially if said pedestrians were of the small variety and attempting not to be seen. “I can show you the best way to pass by a horse, if you want.”
The boy nodded. “I would like that. I won’t always have an apple in my hand, after all. Do you know anything about making dogs not chase you?”
“I believe it’s a similar technique.”
“Good. I don’t like dogs much.”
Will wondered if Emmeline knew that. He doubted it, because if she had, the children wouldn’t have ended up with the ponies, and this entire riding adventure would never have happened. This time was meant for teaching the Fletcher children how to be young aristocrats, not how to flee dogs or dodge through carriage traffic in London—which they would no longer have to do when they found their new home, anyway.
That, though, was what George and Rose—and more than likely James—knew. That was all they knew, and he couldn’t fault the lad for looking for ways to make that life easier for them to navigate. Nor would he prevent them from doing so. As far as he was concerned, the best he could hope for was that by the end of this experiment, the children would no longer feel like they had to fight for every inch of space they occupied.
“You look well put together, Master George,” Billet said, straightening from his lean against the outside wall of the stable. “Had to give my coat a bath. It smelled a bit… horsey, it did.”
George grinned. “That’s because you live with horses.”
“No doubt. Ready for a ride, are you?”
“I’m just looking right now,” George countered. “I’ll decide on the rest later.”
“Ah. Very good, young sir.” Clearing his throat, the groom turned his attention back to Will. “Shall I bring the steeds out for your review?”
“If you would.”
Billet disappeared inside the stable. A moment later, the big doors swung open and the head groom reappeared, a pony on either side of him. “I haven’t saddled ’em yet, as I don’t know which is for the sprite, and which is for the scamp. Both are trained for either saddle.”
They were a fine pair of ponies, half the size of their adult-carrying counterparts, with fine, full manes and tails. The taller one was a pretty gray with a black mane, and the stockier one a bay with three white hooves and a white splotch on its forehead. “Do they have names?” Will asked, when George didn’t show any inclination to give the animals a closer look.
“The bay is General, and the gray is Apple. Both geldings, from the Hendersen stable.”
That information sent an alarm bell ringing in Will’s head. “The Hendersens? What did you say to them about our needing ponies?”
“The missus said I should tell them that you have some of her cousin’s young ones here on a visit before you all go up to Cumberland, so that’s what I let out to ’em. They were happy to be rid of Apple, as their daughter wants a full-size mare, and I take it the boy doesn’t ride much.”
“So we’re your niece and nephew and your son and daughter?” George asked, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at the two ponies. “How many things do we have to remember?”
“For our neighbors here, you’re our niece and nephew,” Will said, aware of Billet’s interested expression. The groom had already lied for them at least once; having him know more of the story would likely be more helpful than harmful. “Clearly Emmeline and I don’t have children. Our neighbors know that, so we need to change the story where they’re concerned.” He took a breath. “After we do all this to save our ownership of Winnover Hall, the last thing we want is for our Gloucestershire neighbors to chat with our Mayfair neighbors about how one day last autumn the Pershings suddenly had offspring.” And then have the Mayfair neighbors profess that the Pershings of course had children, which would greatly astonish the Gloucestershire neighbors. What a mess it would be.
“If we’d known all that, I could’ve gotten more beef stew out of the agreement,” George observed, folding his arms over his chest. “I gave the missus baths for numbers; what’ll you give me for us being a niece and nephew?”
Clever fellow. “We gave your brother a room and meals. Does that suffice?”
He could almost see the wheels turning in the eight-year-old’s head. His young life had been mostly transactional, stealing and selling and trading for basic necessities and safety. “I suppose. And I reckon James could use a bath, too.”
Well. A point in favor of the Pershings, then. Another point. “Which pony do you want to ride?” Will asked, nodding.
So they would be niece and nephew in exchange for a small kindness, and that felt like progress. Will smiled as George took a half step forward for a closer look at the animals. Any show of trust—he’d take it, and smile to boot. As Emmeline had noted, even with James Fletcher’s arrival, everything seemed well in hand. Even possibly successful.
Rose took a deep breath. “Is there anything better than a queen?” she asked, turning this way and that to see herself in the dressing mirror. “Because that is what I am.”
Maybe she could be a queen general, because the brass buttons that ran down the front of the blue riding habit looked very military-like. Oh, she was splendid. Marvelously splendid.
“Hmm,” her pretend mama said. “An empress, perhaps?”