dear!’ Drusilla pulled him back with one hand and put the other over her mouth. ‘I should never have consented to sit by you whilst I held Jackie. He is quite the liveliest child in the Milners’ family, and I have been looking after him to give his poor mama a little rest.’
And then, without having meant to, quite the contrary, she began to laugh as Devenish fished out his beautiful handkerchief and started to repair the damage, his face an impassive mask—although his mouth twitched a little.
‘I’m sorry,’ she began. ‘I shouldn’t laugh, but, oh, dear—your face.’
‘No, you shouldn’t,’ said Devenish agreeably. ‘But then, as you have just rightly pointed out, I am responsible for my ruined coat by having first waylaid you and then allowed you both to sit by me. You do realise that he’s about to be sick all down you at any moment?’
‘No!’ Drusilla leapt to her feet and, quite instinctively, thrust Jackie at Devenish so that she might begin to mop herself.
Devenish didn’t need to mop himself because, having caught Jackie, he dextrously up-ended him and held him at arm’s length so that he christened the grass instead of his already ruined jacket.
‘Goodness me!’ Drusilla exclaimed, scrubbing herself. ‘I might have guessed that your invention would be as sharp as your tongue.’
The fascinated spectators to this unusual scene included a startled Robert and Miss Faulkner who stood aghast, her mouth open in shock, as that aloof Lord of Creation, Henry Alexander Devenish, Fourth Earl of Devenish and Innescourt, turned the squalling Jackie right side up and began to wipe him clean with his handkerchief.
Jackie, who had started to cry when subjected to this briskly sensible treatment, ceased his roaring immediately when Devenish told him sharply, ‘Now, my man, stop that at once, or I shall be very cross.’
Drusilla said faintly, ‘How in the world did you manage that? No one has ever been able to quieten him before once he has begun to cry. You really ought to offer yourself to the Milners to replace the nursemaid they have just lost. She was fit for Bedlam, she said, if she did not resign on the instant.’
Devenish, who had pulled his gold watch from his pocket with his right hand whilst he held Jackie in the crook of his left arm, and was circling it above his absorbed face, said abstractedly, ‘I had a baby brother once.’
The Milners, who had just been informed of the brouhaha which their infant had caused, arrived on the scene to find their usually rampant offspring blowing bubbles of delight at Devenish as he tried to grasp the swinging watch.
‘Oh, m’lord,’ gasped Mrs. Milner. ‘Oh, your beautiful coat, you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t—’
‘Not at all,’ remarked Devenish coolly. ‘Since I have been informed that this is the first time today that he has behaved himself, I think that I really should, don’t you? For all our sakes.’
And since the Lord of All, as Drusilla privately called him, made such a statement, no one present dared to contradict him.
For some reason poor Miss Faulkner was the most disturbed by Devenish’s behaviour. Later, her niece could only think that she had the absurd notion that it brought dishonour on the Faulkner name that he had arrived at such an unlikely pass.
She said sharply to Drusilla, ‘My dear, I told you no good would come of your assisting the Milners’ monstrous child. Look at you both! Your dress is ruined, and as for Lord Devenish’s coat—’
‘Very helpful of you,’ remarked Devenish smoothly, ‘to be so wise both before and after the event. You are quite right. Both Mrs Faulkner and I will be happy to be relieved of continuing to look after the incubus, and I’m sure that you will be delighted to care for him instead, seeing that his poor mama is already in the boughs over him—or so I am informed,’ and he thrust Jackie into the astounded Miss Faulkner’s arms.
‘You may borrow my watch if he starts to cry again,’ he offered helpfully. ‘It seems to do the trick.’
‘Oh, Devenish, you really are the outside of enough,’ gasped Drusilla through laughing sobs. ‘Give him to me, Cordelia, he cannot ruin my dress any further and I’ll return him to his mama when she feels able to look after him.’
Mrs Milner had, indeed, sunk on to the stone bench where Drusilla and Devenish had been sitting, and was moaning gently while being comforted by her husband.
‘She is increasing, you know,’ Drusilla informed Devenish severely, in as low a voice as she could manage, ‘and she needs a rest from him every now and then.’
‘Really,’ returned Devenish, quite unruffled by the commotion which he had created. ‘I should have thought everyone needs a rest from him all the time. Pity we don’t sacrifice to Moloch any more.’
‘Devenish!’ Drusilla and Robert exclaimed reproachfully together, whilst Cordelia Faulkner asked faintly, ‘Why Moloch?’
And then, ‘Oh, the God to whom they sacrificed children. Oh, Lord Devenish, you surely cannot mean that.’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Drusilla and Robert together, and ‘Yes, I do,’ drawled Devenish, but he winked at Drusilla to show her that he was not serious.
She responded by kissing Jackie to show that she loved him if no one else did, and shaking her head at Devenish to reprove him for being flighty.
Giles, a fascinated spectator of the antics of his elders, said, ‘I think babies are disgusting. If they ain’t dribbling from one end, they’re hard at it from the other. Can’t think why anyone wants them.’
‘Well, someone wanted you,’ drawled Devenish. ‘A bit of a mistake, d’you think?’
Drusilla said, ‘I think it’s time everyone behaved themselves. You know, Devenish, you’re a really bad influence on us all. I quite agree with what you said earlier, you have no soul.’
But she was laughing when she said it. Giles looked after her as she removed Jackie from Devenish’s corrupting presence by handing him to his now recovered mama and escorting them into the house where they might be private, and Drusilla might change her dress.
He said confidentially to Devenish and Robert—Miss Faulkner was panting in Drusilla’s ear—‘You know, sir, I don’t think you’re a bad influence on us at all. Why, since poor Jeremy died I haven’t heard Dru laugh like that once!’
It was Robert who laughed at this artless remark and not Devenish, who said, as grave as any judge, ‘Might you not consider that to make your sister laugh like that confirmed my bad influence on her rather than refuted it?’
‘Not at all, sir.’ Giles’s response was as serious sounding as Devenish’s. ‘Why, when Jeremy was alive, she used to laugh all the time.’
He paused, a puzzled look crossing his open, handsome face. ‘Except,’ he said slowly, ‘during the last few months before Jeremy was killed. She grew uncommon moody, as I recall. Jeremy told me that it was because she was unhappy at not providing him with an heir—although judging by the way that most babies behave, I can’t understand why that should make her sad.’
‘You will,’ said Devenish, filing away Giles’s strange piece of information in his retentive memory,
