“He is brave,” admitted my lord grudgingly. “Hostesses still welcome him.”
“Well, well!” sighed the Countess. “Gracious! Do I see Trenchard?”
“He is newly arrived in town. It is unwise, of course.”
“Dogged man! I admire such courage. Trenchard!”
Trenchard came up to her.
“Do I see your ladyship, or do mine eyes deceive me?”
“You see me. What do you in town?”
“Perhaps I wanted to meet you.”
“Perhaps you did. Yet it was foolhardy to come.”
“The risk was worth the issue.”
Lady Sunderland toyed with her fan.
“What is the issue?”
“How can I say, madam? It is for you to prompt me.”
She laid a finger on her lips.
“You’re overbold, sir. I can give no promises.”
“If I am overbold, madam, you are overcautious.”
“Maybe. I am but the mouthpiece of my lord.”
“Then your lord is overcautious. Will he come to no decision?”
She looked down at her white hands.
“He waits. Who shall say which way the wind will blow?”
“You mean?”
“No more than I say. You ask us to risk all for—it may be nothing. We wish to know what we are like to gain.”
“He whom we will not name comes soon.”
“Why, we will wait till then!”
“And after?”
“Who knows?” she smiled. “Must I promise?”
“You will not. But do you hold out—hope?”
“There is always hope,” she parried. “Have you seen who is here tonight?”
He frowned.
“Ay. Once bit, twice shy.”
“But the King is dead,” said my lady.
“I’d have no dealings in that quarter. Unhappily I am otherwise commanded.”
She leaned towards him.
“Mark my words, Trenchard. In Roxhythe you gain a powerful ally.”
“I know it. But who shall trust him after what he did?”
“Have I not said?—The King is dead.”
He shrugged.
Later in the evening Roxhythe passed Lady Sunderland’s couch. She beckoned to him, and he had, perforce, to go to her.
“Come and talk to me,” she invited. “I am very forgiving, am I not?”
“Are you?” said Roxhythe. He sat down. “Why?”
“You did not answer my note.”
“Did I not?”
“You’ll say you had forgot that I had written! I was minded to be honest with you. Alack, the time has passed!”
He regarded her languidly.
“Honesty is a virtue which becomes not your sex, my dear.”
“True!” She cast up her eyes. “ ’Tis our sweet deception that attracts. Heigh-ho! Have you been to Whitehall, my lord?”
Up went his brows.
“Lady Sunderland feigns ignorance. Why?”
She bit her lip.
“You have not. Have you seen Mr. Trenchard?”
“He obtrudes himself on one’s notice. A plain man.”
“I had perceived it. But he has conversation. You should speak with him; he would surprise you.”
“Very little surprises me, madam.”
“Except me?” She ogled him.
He looked at her gravely.
“In truth, madam, I am accustomed to woman’s vagaries.”
“Aha! Yet in some ways I differ from the rest of my sex.”
“In many. So few women have the brain for affairs.”
She cast down her eyes.
“Is it a compliment, my lord?”
“I wonder,” said my lord.
At that she raised her eyes, deep wells of innocence.
“Let us be honest!”
“I thought we had decided that it was not becoming, madam?”
“But let us essay it. Do you dislike my poor Sunderland?”
Roxhythe bowed.
“I have a great admiration for Lord Sunderland’s cunning.”
“Perhaps that feeling is reciprocated,” she answered. “You should have speech with my lord.”
“Why, then, there are two whose acquaintance you bid me cultivate. Your lord, and Trenchard. A strange couple.”
She laughed.
“Are they not? But I do not think I bade you speak with both at once.”
“To speak with them separately were too tedious, madam.”
“Tedious?”
“I weary of the same subject.”
“Would both say the same things, think you?”
“Since you advise me to speak with both it seems likely, madam.”
“So you will eschew their company?”
“I shall not seek them out.”
“Ah! And if they seek you out?”
“I shall count myself singularly honoured, no doubt.”
“I wonder what you mean by that?” she said.
“So do I,” smiled Roxhythe, and left her.
My lady was thoughtful. She went home early to meet her lord.
Sunderland entered her boudoir.
“You are very opportune,” said my lady. “I want you.”
“Good lack!” exclaimed Sunderland. “What ails you?”
She curled her lip at him.
“I am not grown maudlin of a sudden, Spencer, rest assured. I have worked tonight.”
He sat down.
“Let’s hear it, my dear.”
“I have had speech with Roxhythe. Also with Trenchard.”
“Oddsbody! Is Trenchard in town?”
“Ay, and wants an answer.”
“What said you?”
“I told him that we should wait until we might clearly see the result. He asked for hope. I gave him that.” She smiled slowly. “Monmouth desires to treat with Roxhythe.”
“It was to be expected. What is Roxhythe’s attitude?”
“I cannot tell. He is to be feared, Sunderland.”
“Ay. I’d think seriously of Monmouth if Roxhythe were to take charge of his affairs.”
“So would a-many others. Roxhythe has the cool sagacity that Monmouth lacks. He would change the whole complexion of the matter.”
Sunderland tapped his teeth with one fingernail.
“H’m. I do not think he will join Monmouth.”
“No, but have you thought what else he might do?”
“Warn James? Ay.”
My lady rose, drawing her wrapper about her.
“I’ve given you something to rack your brains over,” she said, and laughed. “You would not be the man you are if you had not me to wife.”
“I don’t deny your intelligence,” he retorted.
When Mr. Trenchard waited on Lord Roxhythe he went straight to the point.
“My lord, once you betrayed us.”
Roxhythe paused. He was in the act of pouring out a glass of wine.
“I did not know you had come to indulge in reminiscences,” he remarked.
“Nor have I. You betrayed us to your master. Perhaps I do not blame you.”
“How magnanimous!” Roxhythe handed him the glass.
“Thank you. Well, now you have no master. Things have changed. Papist James was never to your taste.” He paused. Roxhythe was sipping his wine, and did not speak. “Things have changed. His Highness remembers that you aided him to escape when our plot was exploded. Have you still a fondness for him?”
“Had I ever?” asked Roxhythe, mildly surprised.
“It is for you to say. Have you ever considered that His Highness might—plot again?”
“I never consider the obvious,” said my lord.
“Then have you considered that it might be to your advantage to—plot with him?”
“I have not,” said
