“You cannot avoid presenting yourself at the levee,” said Lady Netherby, anxiously; for already a dread of her son's wilful temper came over her. “His Royal Highness's inquiries after you do not leave an option on this matter.”
“What if I'm too ill?” said he, doggedly; “what if I should not be in town?”
“But where else could you be, Richard?” said she, with a resumption of her old imperiousness of tone and manner.
“In Ireland, madam,” said Forester, coldly.
“In Ireland! And why, for any sake, in Ireland?”
Forester hesitated, and grew scarlet; he did not know whether to evade inquiry by a vague reply, or at once avow his secret determination. At length, with a faltering, uncertain voice, he said: “A matter of business will bring me to that country; I have already conversed with Lord Castlereagh on the subject. Lord Netherby was present.”
“I'm sure he could never concur,-I'm certain.” So far her Ladyship had proceeded, when a sudden fear came over her that she had ventured too far, and turning hastily, she rang the bell beside her. “Davenport,” said she to the grave-looking groom of the chambers, who as instantaneously appeared, “is my Lord at home?”
“His Lordship is in the library, my Lady.”
“Alone?”
“No, my Lady, a gentleman from Ireland is with his Lordship.”