“That’s what I was going to say,” nodded Mr Ringwood. “Devilish bad ton!”
“It’s a damned coil!” Sherry said, frowning. “I wouldn’t have thought it of Monty! Dash it, there must be a mistake! Monty wouldn’t walk off like that if the wench had been one of his fancy pieces!”
“Looked devilish sick,” said Mr Ringwood dispassionately.
“Sick as a horse,” corroborated Ferdy. He added, after a moment’s reflection: “Would have myself. Dash it, middle of King Street! Everyone coming away from Almack’s! But I’ll tell you what, Gil: I wouldn’t have left Sherry with the baby. Not Sherry!” Struck by a sudden thought, he looked at his cousin. “What are you going to do with the baby, Sherry?”
“Damme, I’m not going to do anything with the baby!” replied Sherry indignantly. “It ain’t my affair!”
Mr Ringwood coughed discreetly. “Dear old fellow — Lady Sherry! What does she mean to do with it?”
“That’s it,” nodded Ferdy. “Seemed very taken with it.”
“She’ll do what I tell her,” answered Sherry shortly.
“Well, what are you going to tell her?” asked Mr Ringwood.
“I shall think of something,” said Sherry, with cold dignity.