A shrill scream pierced the quiet of midnight. The Marquis cursed inwardly; he had been on the verge of falling asleep and now he would undoubtedly have to endure an hour of such powerful cries before the baby wore itself out and left the household to sleep in peace. How did such a puny thing have such powerful lungs? And why, oh why, had they not put the nursery as far as possible from the master bedchamber?

He turned and cracked an eye open to look at his wife. Frederica was stirring, and no doubt was on the verge of getting up to make her way to the nursery. He stretched out an arm to grasp her hand.

"Nurse will see to it," he said groggily.

"But Nurse can't calm Baby as fast as I can," moaned Frederica, her eyes still shut as she began to crawl out from under the covers. "And what if Lufra decides that the house is under attack like he did last week, and poor Jessamy has to chase him all over the house and restrain him? The poor boy only came down from Oxford yesterday and he needs his rest after all that studying!"

Two thoughts flitted quickly through Alverstoke's mind; firstly, that his wife had not called him a "poor boy" when he had had to chase Lufra all over the house last week; and secondly, that Jessamy was bound to spend the vacation studying whether he needed a rest or not and whether his dog kept him up nights or not. But paramount was the thought that this was the fourth night in a week that Frederica had lost most of her night's sleep in comforting the abominable brat during the great Teething Crisis, and that if she lost any more sleep the dark patches under her eyes might become permanent.

"Stay here," he commanded, rolling on his side and forcibly preventing her from getting up. "I'll see to Baby. You sleep."

"You'll see to Baby?" she asked in incredulity, opening both eyes wide. "Are you sure –"

"Yes, I am sure, and I won't drop Baby or do any other damage. You seem to forget that my parenting skills have already exceeded your expectations and that I ought to be perfectly capable of doing whatever it is you do that makes Baby stop screeching."

She eyed him dubiously, but slowly pulled the covers back over her. "If you insist," she said slowly, "but don't frighten Nurse out of her wits, if you can help it."

"It is very lowering whenever I consider how completely incompetent you think I am," he complained as he threw on a dressing gown and headed for the nursery.

But Frederica was nearly always right. Nurse Jenkins did give a frightened start when the Marquis appeared in the nursery clad in nightshirt, dressing gown, and slippers, his hair uncombed and with a hint of stubble on his chin. Alverstoke realized ruefully that she probably couldn't immediately recognize him without his impeccable clothing and carefully arranged coiffure. But she was not a foolish woman, and only took a few seconds to recover her composure.

"Your Lordship!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper as she rose from the rocking chair with the screaming blanket-bundled baby still in her arms. "Whatever are you- oh, I am so sorry that you were wakened, my Lord, but Baby's teeth!"

"It's quite alright, Mrs. Jenkins, I have come to relieve you of your charge." As he took the bundle from her, he smiled at the look of shock that spread over her face. "If it weren't me, it would be my wife, and we both know she cannot go much longer with such nights as these. Do go back to your chamber, and I will try to calm Baby."

She cast him a look of misgiving, but had no choice other than to obey. Thus it was that the Marquis of Alverstoke was left alone with his firstborn offspring.

"Well, brat?" he yawned as he sat down in the chair and positioned the baby in his arms. He rearranged the blankets so that he could clearly see the infant's enraged red face and rumpled mess of brown curls. He jiggled the baby experimentally, but the screaming only seemed to intensify. He sighed and sat back, prepared for hours of torment. Well, not hours. If the baby didn't stop crying, he supposed Frederica would show up eventually.

"You know, you are rather a bothersome child," he said conversationally, continuing to look down at the baby. "I thought Felix and Jessamy were troublesome enough, but you've taken the prize. First you make Frederica actually moody, and as big as a house besides. Then there was the day you were born, with my beloved wife screaming words I didn't think she knew. And although I do suspect she was quite pleased with you, you did seem to disappoint her when you turned out not to be a boy. My sisters were rather put out too and never stopped expressing it. You were meant to cut your cousin Endymion out of the inheritance, and instead of the Viscount of Branthington, heir to the Marquis of Alverstoke, we had to make do with Lady Margaret Harriet Elizabeth Dauntry. I didn't care, of course. Because I'll be dead if Endymion does inherit in the end, and I'm far too selfish to care about other people's disappointments. So while my sisters may poke up their noses, I bear you no ill-will for being a mere female. In fact, I'm rather fond of you when you aren't preventing the entire house from sleeping. Even your uncles find you rather interesting when you aren't crying. I know that cutting teeth is a painful business, or at least I assume it is, but you don't seem to understand that making the rest of us miserable will not alleviate your misery. But I suppose that rational argumentation won't work on you; you're really not quite up to snuff yet."

He paused, realizing that the bundle was no longer emitting any noise except for a soft gurgle. His own eyelids had begun to droop; he blinked and saw that Lady Margaret was regarding him with a quite serious expression in the eyes so like her mother's. It was that same look that came over Frederica's face when she was pondering something. They were both utterly silent for a minute, each gravely looking at the other. And then the infant curled one side of her mouth in something resembling a smile, nestled a red cheek against the Marquis' dressing gown, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

Alverstoke regarded her in astonishment. He had been in the room less than ten minutes, and the brat had not only ceased her wailing, but had actually fallen asleep! Would wonders never cease? He got up to place Lady Margaret in her cot and to return to his own bed, but his pleasure was short-lived. As he gently laid the baby down, he heard a loud bark, some kind of banging noise, a loud swear, and more barking. Glancing apprehensively down, he saw that Lady Margaret had opened one eye and that her face was beginning to pucker up and redden. He lifted her up again, hoping to stem the tide of tears. She seemed undecided as how to proceed. There was barking, the sound of a slamming door, and the mingling of paws and slippered feet in the hallway. A moment later, the door to the nursery flung wide, and Lufra lunged into the room, tail wagging vigorously, with a groggy and clearly frustrated Jessamy behind him.

"Oh, Alverstoke!" he exclaimed with a look of surprise, as Lufra ran to his lordship's side and attempted to gain a sniff of Lady Margaret, who had still not decided whether or not to cry. Alverstoke sat down once more with his daughter and sighed, looking up at Jessamy in weary resignation.

"I'm ever so sorry," said Jessamy, running a hand through disheveled dark hair. "Luff was silent all through the crying, and then as soon as she stopped, he seemed to think something was the matter and panicked! He wouldn't stop barking and scratching to be let out, so I had to open the door, and then he rushed down here and wouldn't leave till I had opened the nursery door, and well – now he seems fine! I thought you said last week Lufra was panicked by the crying?"

"Apparently the Baluchistan hound has decided that crying normal, and that the cessation of the abhorrent noise is a signal that some intruder has done away with the brat," said Alverstoke, a hint of amusement in his otherwise annoyed voice. "And he had to be reassured of her safety. What an intelligent animal! How grateful we must be for his constant vigilance!"

"Well, I'm glad Meg hasn't started crying again, but I am truly sorry I couldn't manage Luff," said Jessamy, still apologetic as he collapsed into another chair and watched Lufra as the canine set his head on Alverstoke's knee in order to better regard the perfectly sound infant. Lady Margaret, who had never shown the least fear of the enormous dog, gurgled and waved a fist at his head.

"Now really, Jessamy, don't start yearning for penance on your first night – or is it morning- home! I will not have forgiveness wrangled out of me at this hour, not even for the sake of your conscience!"

Jessamy laughed. "No, it would be too bad of me, sir. But I didn't really expect to find you here with Meg. Where's Frederica?"

"Asleep in bed, I should hope. She was not easily persuaded to let me come in her place. I must say Jessamy, I am disappointed that not even you think me capable of managing my own child."

"Well, sir, you are the most complete hand, but I didn't think your expertise extended to babies," admitted Jessamy with a twinkle in the back of his eyes. It was a relief, thought Alverstoke, to see that in the past year and a half Jessamy had not only become more capable of enduring mockery of himself, but had gained enough confidence to occasionally mock his mentor. Oxford had been good for him, and though he was still only eighteen, he had all the makings of an excellent young man about him. Far more than I did at eighteen, thought Alverstoke wryly.

The door opened again, and Frederica stepped in, the third now in the room with dressing gown and slippers and disheveled hair. Alverstoke groaned and kept his arms even more firmly about his daughter, whose fingers were now very slowly stroking Lufra's furry forehead as her eyelids became heavy with sleep again.

"Frederica, go back to bed!" her husband whispered as loudly as he could. "She is very nearly asleep again. Good God, did you think I had accidentally killed her? I got her to sleep in ten minutes, and you assume something must be wrong."

"No, of course I didn't think you had killed her," Frederica whispered back. "I had fallen asleep myself, then I heard Lufra and thought that might set Baby off again." She crossed the room, smiling at Jessamy, and perched on the arm of the rocking chair to look down at Lady Margaret. "I must say, I am most impressed, Vernon, and shall never doubt your abilities again." She leaned down to kiss his cheek and added, brightly, "Well, now every time she cries in the middle of the night I shall send you to comfort her!"

She rose again and bent to peck Jessamy on the forehead as she left the room. "I shall leave Baby in capable hands. Goodnight, dear Jessamy, we are so glad you are home."

Alverstoke looked at the door as it closed softly behind her, his brow furrowed. "Do you know Jessamy, I begin to wonder if this was your sister's plan from the outset. Show doubt in my baby-handling abilities until I was determined to prove myself, then hand over all responsibility to me. It is remarkably similar to how I got saddled with you all in the first place."

Jessamy laughed, called Lufra to heel, and everyone went to bed at last.