Джорджетт Хейер: The Foundling

“Ay, that I will do!” said Mr. Mamble, seizing Tom by the lobe of one ear, and leading him forth.

“For God’s sake, Gilly!” said the Viscount, momentarily forgetful of the point at issue, “where did you pick up that fellow?” He recollected himself, and tried to whip up his dying wrath. “Not that I care for that!” he said hastily. “When we were interrupted, my lord Duke—”

“Oh, Charlie, don’t start calling me my lord Duke again!” begged the Duke. “You will set me off laughing once more, and my ribs are aching! Do stop making such a cake of yourself! You know very well that by tomorrow you will be thanking God you are so well out of a scrape! You have no notion what a tiresome girl Belinda is!”

“Oh, haven’t I?” retorted the Viscount. “Let me tell you that she made me go all the way to Milsom Street for a gown all over gold beads, and of the most shocking colour you ever laid eyes on! But I don’t mind that! Damme, I never saw a lovelier creature in my life! But that was a dog’s trick you served me, Gilly! To send me off after a damned chaise with an old harridan in it, and her pug-dog—”

The Duke gave a little crow of joy. “Oh, no, Charlie, was it indeed an old harridan? If only I might have seen you! But it was none of my doing, I swear! My peerless Thomas planned and executed the whole!”

“I wish I’d choked the brat!” said his lordship. “Oh, yes, it’s very well for you to laugh, but it is a great deal too bad, and here am I with this damned purple gown on my hands, besides all else!” He glanced round as the door opened to admit his sister, and blinked. “Good God, how came you here, Harry?”

“Gilly brought me,” she replied. “Charlie, I do not like to be cross and scolding, but I am quite vexed with you! How could you behave so? It was too bad of you!”

The Duke led her towards the fire. “No, no, don’t be vexed with him, Harry! The poor fellow is left with a purple gown upon his hands, and has no one upon whom to bestow it!”

“I have been thinking about that,” she replied seriously. “It quite serves Charlie right, but, you know, Gilly, I think I will buy it from him, and give it to poor Belinda for a bride-gift. It would make her so very happy, and perhaps if only she had it she would be content!”

“You are an angel, Harriet,” said the Duke, pressing her hand. “She will look quite shockingly in it, you know, but I daresay Mudgley will not think so. Should I give her a ring to put on her finger, do you think?”

“No, for Mr. Mudgley will do that,” she pointed out. “I expect, however, that it would be proper for you to offer to stand sponsor to their first child,” she added thoughtfully.

“I make you my compliments, Harriet!” said Gideon. “I perceive that you will be an excellent Duchess, and become universally looked up to!”

“Oh, no!” she said, blushing. “How can you say so? Only I mean to try to do my best, and I shall have Gilly to tell me how I should go on, you know.”

“What, will you do as he bids?” exclaimed Gideon.

“Of course!” she said simply.

“Adolphus,” said Captain Ware, picking up his sherry-glass, “from my heart I felicitate you! The days of your bondage are clearly at an end! I drink to your future career, wherein you will doubtless assert yourself, tyrannizing over your family, bullying your servants, and filling your house with foundlings, Newgate-scoundrels, hobbledehoy schoolboys, and whatever scaff and raff of society your fancy prompts you to befriend! Adolphus, my little one, I salute you!”