After a few more blocks, they turned down a tree-lined street and pulled over in front of a Victorian that was five stories tall and covered with shiny green ivy. Protruding from one side of it was a brick tower, making it look like a castle. There was a short wrought iron fence out front and a glossy black door with a wide half-moon window above it.

"This is it," Emma told the girls, studying their faces.

"Bloody hell," Stella breathed, staring at the massive brick building.

BUY SLOANE SISTERS

"Stella, language," her mom said gently.

"It's brilliant!" Lola cried, pushing out the door, cat carrier in hand. "Look, Heath Bar!" Her skinny arms strained to lift up the canvas bag so the twenty-pound cat could get a better view. "It's practically a castle!"

Heath Bar pushed his pink nose against the mesh and mewed.

"This is . . . our new house?" Stella asked, sliding across the slick seat and stepping out. She loved her town house in West London, a three-story beige building with two pillars on either side of the red front door. But this was grand, a house fit for a princess—a newly transplanted Upper East Side princess.

"Mum?" Stella peered into the car. Emma was sitting with her hands on her lap, her face a little pale. "Mum?"

"Right," Emma said, finally following them onto the sidewalk. The driver, a muscular redheaded man, walked around to the back of the limo and opened the trunk. Emma brought her fingers to the platinum chain around her neck and played with it nervously. "I have something to tell you."

Lola spun around and set the carrier on the sidewalk. Heath Bar mewed again. "Do we each get our own floor?" she asked, her green eyes wide.