Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(71)

“Elle. Henry. Would you two mind going to the kitchen and bringing back the food baskets for us? I’ve already instructed the kitchens to prepare lunch for us. Edward and I will set up the tables in the greenhouse over there.”

Elle glances at Henry, a hopeful look in her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, he offers his hand. “Let’s go.”

They head toward the kitchens, hand in hand. “Good luck,” I whisper. I hope that my little manipulation will work.

Another rumble from my stomach prompts me to take further action. I clap my hands twice to get the students’ attention.

“Girls,” I call. “It’s time for lunch. Henry and Elle have gone to fetch the food for us.”

At the sound of ‘food,’ the girls perk up with expectant grins. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s hungry.

“I’ve reserved one of the greenhouses, as it’s too chilly outside for a picnic. Come on, girls. Let’s set up the tables for lunch.”

The girls whoop and come over to me. I lead them to an adjoining greenhouse, an extra space that I’ve managed to convince Galen to let us use. A pile of red-checkered tablecloths, neatly folded, lies in one corner, on top of a stack of stools. I take the pile and start distributing the tablecloths, directing the girls—those who are tall enough—to help me spread out the cloths over the table.

“But Your Highness,” a girl says. “Why can’t we get the servants to prepare the tables for us?”

“Because they have their own jobs to do,” I say, pulling out the stools. “They already had to do extra work because of our outing today. Besides, you wouldn’t like to feel helpless without servants, would you?”

The girl stares at me for a moment before shaking her head. “I guess not,” she says slowly. I think she isn’t unwilling to set the tables, but rather she never thought anything about servants doing extra work.

“Edward?” I crook a finger at my husband. “Can you help me separate these stools?”

A collective gasp comes from the girls. I’m probably the only person they have ever seen who dares to order the prince to do stuff. Well, not exactly ‘ordering,’ but Edward always seems more like the person to have others serve him, not the other way around.

Edward doesn’t say anything. He simply strides toward me and takes the stools.

“Thanks.” I smile at him and put my hand on his arm. “You’re the best.”

His mouth curves up slightly. “Another of your world’s phrases?”

Oops. I give him a guilty grin before going over to Rosie, who’s struggling with another girl with an overly large tablecloth.

Together, we fix up our lunch in the greenhouse. I made the right decision in having the girls pitch in, as everyone seems to be having fun, though whenever Edward lends a hand, the girls near him giggle and blush. No surprise there.

Just when we’re carrying several glazed pots of pink and purple cineraria, beautifully arranged with asparagus fern, to the tables, Elle and Henry arrive. The aroma of meat pies, apple-and-cinnamon cake, and hot chocolate permeates the air.

“All right, girls, don’t push or fight. There’s plenty for all,” I say. “Elle, can you hand out the forks and knives . . . oh, there’s the napkins. Right, let’s all sit down and tuck in.”

Lunch turns out to be a greater success than I expected. Not only do the girls enjoy the meal, but it seems that Henry and Elle have also grown a bit closer. When Lizzie, an adorable four-year-old who’s also the youngest pupil in school, complains that she doesn’t want any salad, both Henry and Elle admonish her.

“No, you have to eat your greens, or not a spoonful of jam shall you get,” Elle says.

“But I don’t like the taste of spinach,” Lizzie whines.

Henry hands her a salad fork. “Spinach is good for you. You do want to grow up strong and healthy, don’t you?”

“Listen to the doctor,” Elle says, smiling. “There, we can sprinkle a bit of cheese on top. Try it, Lizzie. You might find the taste better than you expected.”

Lizzie reluctantly takes a tiny bite. Both Elle and Henry watch her chew, and when the child concedes that the spinach isn’t ‘that bad,’ the two of them share a knowing smile.

In the afternoon, we move on to the menagerie for lessons on animal behavior. The gamekeeper is more cheerful than Edward. All the children’s attention is on him as he demonstrates how a parrot may imitate human speech. I have the instinct that despite his muscular build, the gamekeeper is a softie at heart like Bertram.

As I watch the girls having fun teaching the parrot various phrases, I notice Edward standing a little way from the crowd, arms crossed over his chest. I let go of Rosie’s hand and go over to him.

“I thought you’d have left,” I say in a low voice. Now that we’re no longer in the greenhouse, Edward doesn’t need to be here. I can manage the rest with Elle and Henry.

He shrugs. “Parliament has closed for the time being, so my workload has lessened considerably. I would rather spend the afternoon with you.”

“Even if we’re not alone?”

He pretends to look offended. “You told me once that I have a possessive streak. I am not that possessive as to want you alone with me all the time.”