“Needs must,” quoth Charles, ruefully. “Roxhythe stays for no man.”
“Not even for Your Majesty?” asked Lady Castlemaine.
Charles smiled.
“I wonder?” he said. “Can one catch a star?”
“I take it ’tis a question of holding a star,” remarked Killigrew, coming up to them. “ ’Twould be interesting to test Lord Roxhythe his devotion.” He spoke lightly, jestingly, but there was too much of the sneer in his voice for Charles’ liking. The look he gave him was cold.
“See the wretch now!” exclaimed Lady Castlemaine. She was in great good humour today. “I’ll swear he is searching for his ladylove! Are you not, Roxhythe?”
Roxhythe turned his head.
“Which one, Lady Castlemaine?”
She spread out her hands in mock protest.
“The latest; the dearest!” smiled Monmouth.
“Alas! There is no dearest.”
“What! Dead, my lord?”
“No.” Roxhythe sat down. “Faded, sir.”
“Already? I thought the little Crosby woman—”
“But I tire so easily,” complained his lordship.
“You are a scoundrel, Roxhythe.” It was the King who spoke. “I vow I do not know why I keep you near me!”
“Oh, I can give Your Majesty the answer to that!” replied Roxhythe, placidly.
“Give it then!” Charles turned, ready to be amused.
Roxhythe’s eyes travelled slowly round the room.
“Amongst so much virtue. …” he began, and got no further. Protesting, laughing voices chided him.
Charles rose.
“Ye all appear horrified at the idea of any virtue being found amongst you,” he sighed, his eyes alight with laughter. “Well, I’ll set your minds at rest. Without doubt ye are the most outrageous subjects in Christendom. David, I want you! I have it in mind to give a ball which shall excel all others ever held between these walls. I must have your sage counsel.” He linked his arm through Roxhythe’s, and shook a reproving finger at his small court. “I’ll leave you to your various wickednesses,” he said. “God wot, ye are not fit company for me!”
A slight stir by the door announced the entrance of the Queen. She came slowly across the room on her way to her apartments, a short, insignificant figure, primly garbed in riding-dress.
Charles withdrew his arm and went to meet her.
Her dark eyes with their vague unhappiness scanned him a thought anxiously as he bent over her hand.
“Well, madam? You have been riding?” The King spoke kindly, as one speaks to a child.
Katherine inclined her head.
“Yes, Sir.” Some of the apathy went out of her voice. “The daffodils are already blooming in the Park.”
“Are they so? It was a pleasant ride, sweet?”
“Not very, Sir. I wished you had been with me.” She looked up at him sadly. “The people would have cheered.”
“Why, madam, they cheer for you!” said Charles, patting her hand.
“No,” said the Queen. “No.” She looked round the room. Lady Castlemaine curtseyed as the lacklustre eyes passed her. Katherine made no sign. Then she saw Roxhythe, and smiled. The smile changed her whole face. It held appeal, shy coquetry; it dispersed some of her stiffness.
“I did not know you were in London, my lord,” she said.
Roxhythe came forward at once, and kissed her hand.
“I hope Your Majesty is better than when I left you?” His tone held something near warmth.
“I am very well,” answered Katherine. “We have missed you, my lord.”
“Your Majesty is too kind,” he said gravely.
“You should have been with us today,” she continued. “The spring has come so early this year! The flowers are all opening in the Park. It was very pretty.” Her eyes went back to the King, wistfully. Charles had no interest in flowers; he was not attending. Roxhythe it was who answered.
“I shall beg you to let me come in your train again one day, madam,” he said. “You have not asked me of late.”
“Because I thought you would not care to,” she replied. “I do wish, though, that you might accompany me.”
“I should be very greatly honoured, madam,” he bowed. “I shall await your commands.”
“One would almost imagine that he wanted to ride with her!” murmured Killigrew in Buckingham’s ear. “Is it possible that the fastidious Roxhythe is épris in that direction?”
Buckingham shook his head.
“No. He has always been the same with her. I suppose he seeks to curry favour!” He sneered.
Roxhythe followed Charles to his closet. There the King flung himself down on the luxuriously cushioned window-seat.
“I doubt the Queen is not happy,” he remarked, frowning. “She takes no interest in our pleasures and she hath always the air of one moped to death.”
“The Queen hath a great regard for Your Majesty,” said Roxhythe deliberately.
Charles jerked an impatient shoulder.
“Oh, ay! Ye think I do not notice her enough. She should be more cheerful. She wearies me—poor woman,” he added. “Ye heard today; the people do not like her nor cheer when she passes. Well, ’tis not my fault.”
“If Your Majesty went with the Queen, the people would cheer,” answered my lord.
“Roxhythe, I will not be taken to task like this!” said Charles pettishly. “You had best accompany her! The people do always cheer when you ride out. Mayhap she will think ’tis for her.”
“You make a mistake, Sir, when you dub Her Majesty a fool.”
Charles stared at him.
“Are you an admirer?” he asked.
“I admire, and have always admired Her Majesty’s brave spirit,” said Roxhythe.
Charles was silent. Presently he changed the subject, speaking coldly.
“Well, did you ascertain Louis his attitude?”
Roxhythe shrugged.
“He realizes that he must come to the movement of your finger, Sir.”
Charles’ brow cleared as if by magic.
“I always thought he would! He may rest assured that I shall move that finger to some purpose. I tell you, Roxhythe, I must have money, or I fall. What is Louis his figure?”
“I do not know, Sir.”
“Arundell said two million.”
“I am sorry to have to disagree with my Lord Arundell, but it is too much.”
“Are you sure, David?”
“As sure as I am over anything, Sir.”
“A pity.” Charles rested his chin in his hand. “Ye think Arundell a fool?”
“No. I do not think he understands the French mind.”
“Nor I. ’Tis for that reason that I want you to help me. Colbert has
