“So it seems,” said Charles. “We shall see. In the meantime, Roxhythe, go you to Paris. I shall put this matter before Arlington. I fancy we shall have trouble with him.”
“I thought he was your man, Sir?”
“So he is. But his wife is Dutch—and of the House of Orange.”
“True. Yet he will stand, I think, by you.”
“We shall see,” repeated Charles.
III
Her Ladyship
Thus began the negotiations between the Kings of France and England. They were necessarily slow, and they entailed many journeys for the favourite to and from Paris. Christopher noticed that the French visits were becoming more and more frequent and decided that the lady must be unusually attractive. He did not worry his head over it at all.
Towards the end of the year came a lull in the proceedings. A deadlock had been reached, and it almost seemed as though the alliance would not take place. Lord Arlington hesitated and demurred, irritating King Louis; and Madame, the fair intermediary, would give Roxhythe no definite answer as to the price that Louis would pay. Both parties were dissatisfied with one another, both demanded what the other would not give. For a time Roxhythe ceased his visits to Paris and found amusement with a certain Lady Crewe, a bride, newly come to town. She was young, beautiful and rather unsophisticated. She was very much in love with her husband, but she was flattered by Roxhythe’s attentions.
In October the deadlock had to some extent been passed. The journeys to Paris became more frequent again. During one of them a little stir was created in fashionable London by the arrival of the Lady Frances Montgomery, daughter of the late Duke of Rochefort, and wife of Sir Jasper Montgomery, of the Diplomatic. She had returned from Spain, where she had been for the last three years. She was cousin to my Lord Roxhythe, and before she had married Montgomery there had been much talk of an alliance between her and my lord. Her father had wished it, but evidently she and Roxhythe had not, for London had been denied the thrill of seeing my lord caught at last. The Duke had not looked favourably on Montgomery. His daughter might have married the bluest blood in France or England had she liked. She had been bred in the French Court; she had beauty, wit and that mysterious something known as charm. She had had many suitors, but not one had she accepted. She preferred to remain single, and, as the Duke could refuse her nothing, single she did remain. When she came to the Restoration Court she made a huge success. Charles himself paid her extravagant compliments; the men fell at her feet. Rumour said that she was as astute as Madame, Duchesse d’Orléans, and had more than once had a finger in various intrigues. Then she met Sir Jasper and electrified Society by deciding to marry him. As usual she had her way. There was a magnificent wedding, and she went away with honest but dull Montgomery and was seen no more.
Now she had returned because her husband had been ordered home. As soon as the news became general every scrap of gossip concerning her was retailed. A great many people wondered whether she had wearied of Montgomery and whether she would amuse herself with her cousin.
It was said of her that she was the one woman with whom Roxhythe had not trifled. They had never been anything dearer than very good friends.
When she had been in London for about a week she gave a reception to which all London flocked. She had not asked Roxhythe to come because she believed him to be in Paris, so she was considerably surprised when, midway through the evening, two gentleman were announced, one of whom was the Most Noble the Marquis of Roxhythe, and the other Mr. Dart.
Roxhythe was magnificent in purple and gold. Diamonds scintillated from his breast where his several orders hung, and from his long, thin fingers. He made his entry superbly and swept a glance round the room.
Lady Frances was standing with the young Duchess of Monmouth. He saw her at once, recognising her slim, graceful figure. She was talking animatedly, with many tiny gestures of the hand learnt at the French Court, and many lightning smiles that showed pearly teeth behind her red lips.
Christopher watched her, conscious of her fascination. He could not take his eyes off her face. It was not so much her beauty which attracted him, but her great vivacity. Her brown eyes flashed as she talked; dimples quivered on her cheeks. Around her was gathered quite a little court, hanging on her lips, waiting for a look or a smile.
Roxhythe glanced at his secretary amusedly.
“She is quite charming, is she not?” he asked.
Christopher drew in his breath.
“Is—that Lady Frances?” he said.
“That is Lady Frances. A sad minx.” He laughed softly at Christopher’s indignant face.
Frances had seen them. She came across the room, hands outstretched.
“My very dear David! What an honour!”
Roxhythe kissed her hand.
“You did not invite me,” he said. “But I came.”
“Of course I am delighted! I thought you away, else I should assuredly have asked you to come.”
“So I thought,” nodded his lordship, pensively. “May I present Mr. Dart? Chris, Lady Frances Montgomery.”
My lady flashed her bright eyes at Christopher. She seemed to search his face for the fraction of a second. Then she smiled. Her smile was wonderful. Christopher fell in love with her on the spot.
“I must introduce you to someone very nice,” she decided. “Come with me! David, I want to talk to you, so you must not run to Lady Crewe’s side yet.” She bore Christopher off to the other end of the room. When she came back she found Roxhythe talking to Lord Buckhurst and one or two others.
“No,” she said, emphatically. “You may none of you come with us. I’ve not seen Roxhythe for three years, and I’ve much to tell him.
