Mr Ringwood began to think that there was more in Mr Fakenham’s desire to disassociate himself from these proceedings than he had at first perceived. He said tentatively: “Dare say you’d like us to leave you, dear boy. Delicate situation: won’t want guests!”
“Oh no, you don’t!” retorted his lordship.
“Just as you please, Sherry!” said Mr Ringwood. “Only thought you might prefer to be alone with Lady Sherry!”
“Well, I wouldn’t!” said his lordship bluntly.
They had arrived by this time at his house. They were admitted by Bradgate, who informed them that my lady had taken the young person upstairs to her bedchamber. His manner indicated that he accepted no responsibility for this, and washed his hands of whatever consequences might ensue. The Viscount told him to fetch the brandy to the drawing-room, and escorted his two friends up the one pair of stairs which led to his apartment. A fire burned in the grate, but the candles had not been lit. The Viscount thrust a taper into the fire and went round the room kindling the wicks, a heavy scowl marring his countenance. The canary hanging on the window embrasure awoke, apparently in some confusion of mind, and began to sing its morning hymn. The Viscount, with a few bitter animadversions on birds in general, and misguided friends in particular, cast a cloth over the cage and the song ceased abruptly. The butler shortly appeared with a tray, and said in accents of extreme repulsion that he understood that the young person would be spending the night in the spare bedroom. He then withdrew, and the Viscount exclaimed: “Well, that’s a nice thing! If it isn’t just like Kitten! Now what am I to do? I’m dashed if I’ll have Monty’s chere-amie in my spare bedroom!”
“Baby, too,” said Ferdy, shaking his head. “Bound to squall. They do. Very awkward, Sherry. Don’t know what you can do.”
“Well, for God’s sake let us have a little brandy!” said his lordship, striding over to the table and seizing the decanter.
It was some time before Hero came downstairs, but after about half an hour she put in an appearance, still wearing her silk and gauze ball dress, but with her jewels discarded and her curls a little ruffled. She came quickly into the room, a look of great distress in her face, and went towards Sherry with her hands held out, and saying impetuously: “Oh, Sherry, it is so shocking! She has told me the whole, and I never thought anyone could be so wicked! It is all too true! That dear little baby is indeed Sir Montagu’s own child, but he will not give poor Ruth a penny for its maintenance, no, nor even see Ruth! Oh, Sherry, how can such things be?”
“Yes, I know, Kitten. It’s devilish bad, but — but you have only the girl’s word for it, and I dare say, if we only knew — ”
“Might be a mistake,” explained Ferdy, anxious to be helpful.