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“Oh, thank goodness!” Hannah came running toward them, a frown on her face. “Where in the world did you go? I thought you might have fallen in the pond, or something.”
“Why does everyone think we’ve fallen in the pond?” Rose asked, a scowl bringing her eyebrows together.
“Rose saw a bunny,” her brother explained.
“A bunny.” Hannah took a breath. “Well, there are a great many bunnies here on the property. Perhaps we can go look for some another day. Today we promised apples to people, and we need to give Mrs. Brubbins enough time to bake her pies. And remember, no worms.”
“No worms,” Rose echoed.
George sent another glance at Billet, but the groom was busy looking at the lady’s maid, and didn’t seem to care if they had stashed something from the house. And Hannah was too distracted by the head groom to be suspicious of anything. That mutual distraction had been what he’d hoped for when he’d told Rose to pick baskets that were too big for them to carry, but grown-ups didn’t always cooperate.
Now they just needed to arrange a few more trips out to the orchard, and they would have enough here to support them in case James ran off with their valuables—if they ever got them back. He wished James would run off, because the Pershings were… nice, and he didn’t like taking their precious things. The two of them only needed small things, because with some blunt it wouldn’t matter who the Pershings might find to be their new parents, or how many times Powell—or James—raided their treasure chests.
Whoever their fake parents found, they wouldn’t be better than what he and Rosie had found here. And if it couldn’t be here—which it couldn’t, of course—then someone needed to look after Rose’s best interests. Just giving people money to be their parents wouldn’t work; he’d seen the nuns take the money donated to them and use it to buy chairs and beds and plump chickens that the children never got to see, much less use or eat.
And it was James’s fault they’d ended up at the stone jug the last time, anyway. If James had stayed and distracted the beaks, he and Rosie might have gotten away. No, he had no intention of trusting anyone but himself where his and his sister’s future was concerned. Nothing good had yet happened from trusting anyone. Even if sometimes he thought about it.
None of that mattered, though, because eventually the Pershings would realize that some of their very valuable things were missing. They would make a stink about it, and Powell would say he’d known all along, and had been doing his best to put things back where they belonged.
That would be the excuse they needed to break the agreement and send Rose and him back to St. Stephen’s the minute the duke’s party was over. At least this way he knew it was coming, and he’d prepared both for that, and for James dragging them away. The only question right now was who was going to lie first—or at least which of them would be caught at it first.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Looking up from his desk as Emmeline walked into his office, Will sent her a grim smile. “You’ll be relieved to know that my pistol hasn’t yet gone missing, but the pocket watch Liverpool gifted me is gone. That was engraved, damn it all.”
“I have no gold jewelry left. They even pilfered that giant red campion brooch from my aunt Hetty, and I had that ugly thing stashed in the back corner of my unmentionables drawer.”
Will opened a drawer and pulled out a letter. “It’s not all bad news. I just got word back from London. James Fletcher spent some time at Newgate Prison, and was released to become an informant on his fellow thieves. Evidently he hasn’t been seen since.”
“Thank God.” Emmie grimaced. “That doesn’t sound very charitable of me, does it?”
“I nearly began dancing.”
“That’s truly it then, isn’t it?” She sank into the chair opposite his desk with an ease he hadn’t seen in her for years. Was she becoming more comfortable with him? With the idea that they weren’t merely partners, but a married couple? He hoped so, because he’d had to get out of bed twice last evening to splash his front with cold water. And that had been just from thinking about her. “If he ran, then no doubt the magistrate would be happy to see him again. And they’d never trust him to raise young children.”
“I would think not.” He sighed. “There is still, however, the chance that if we approach this the wrong way, he might take George and Rose and flee with them, anyway—whether he has a legal right to do so or not.”
“I agree. As much as I’d like to be present when you boot him out of the house, it’ll be safer for the children if Hannah and I—and Edward and Donald—go close ourselves in the conservatory after dinner, at which time you… go boot him.”
Will nodded. She’d chosen the largest room in the house with locks on the doors, of course. Practical, smart, and quick-witted, she was. “I would say we should inform the children first, but since we’ve already decided not to report him to the law, which is likely what would worry them, I propose that we see to his exit and then let them know.”
She sighed. “I wish we could prepare them. He is their only family. They may not react well to his departure.”
“I’ll risk it. His absence will be the best thing he could do for them.” He pocketed the letter on the chance that the one Fletcher who could read a bit might find it before they were ready. “If necessary, I suppose we could resort to bribery again.”
“Ah. Puppies?”
Will snorted. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“Yes.” Humor touched her face. “A few weeks ago, I would have been horrified at the idea of a houseguest robbing us. Now we have three of them doing it, and my first thought is how to protect two of them.”
“You, my dear, are not alone in that.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
“What do you mean, ‘snabbled’?” James glanced past George toward the far side of the drawing room, where Powell was replacing the old flower bouquets with new ones. “You got outsmarted by him?”
“He’s tougher than he looks,” George grumbled, not looking at all happy.