Georgiana withdrew her hand from the King's arm, and became red with indignation.
"Forgive me—pardon me," said the monarch hastily: "I perceive that you are vexed with me—and I am very unfortunate in having offended you."
Thus speaking he again proffered his arm, which Lady Hatfield took, saying, "Would your Majesty deign to conduct me back to the company?"
At this moment the Earl of Ellingham returned to the Armoury, and handed the King his snuff-box. The party then retraced their way to the splendid saloons, the monarch conversing the while in a manner which seemed to indicate that Lady Hatfield had no ground to fear his recurrence to subjects that were disagreeable to her. At length he resigned her to the care of Lord Ellingham; but ere he turned away, he gave her a rapid and significant look, as much as to say, "I throw myself upon your generosity not to mention my conduct towards you."
The King now withdrew from the apartments thrown open for the reception of the company, and remained absent for nearly an hour. When he returned, his countenance was much flushed; and it was evident that he had been enjoying a glass or two of his favourite curaçoa-punch, in company with a few boon-companions, who had been summoned to attend him in a private room remote from the state-saloons.
One of the boon-companions just alluded to, was a certain Sir Phillip Warren—an old courtier who was supposed to enjoy the confidence of the King, and who, it was rumoured, had been the means of extricating his royal master, when Prince of Wales, from many a difficulty in financial matters as well as from the danger of exposure in divers amatory intrigues. Without any defined official position about the person of the King, Sir Phillip was nevertheless a very important individual in the royal household—one of those useful, but mysterious agents who, while enjoying the reputation of men of honour, are in reality the means by which the dirty-work of palaces is accomplished. In appearance, Sir Phillip Warren was a stout, red-faced, good-humoured-looking man; and not the least of those qualifications which rendered him so especial a favourite with the King, was the aristocratic faculty that he possessed of taking his three bottles after dinner without seeming to have imbibed any thing stronger than water.
Such was the courtier who, accosting the Earl of Ellingham, shortly after the King's return to the drawing-rooms, drew that nobleman aside with an intimation that he wished to say a few words to him in private.
Taking the Earl's arm, Sir Phillip Warren led him away from the brilliantly lighted saloons, and introduced the nobleman into the Blue Velvet Closet—a small but elegantly decorated room, where a single lamp was burning upon the table.
"His Majesty has been speaking to me concerning your lordship," said Sir Phillip Warren, when Arthur and himself were seated alone together in the Closet; "indeed, our royal master has been graciously pleased to intimate that he is much prepossessed in your favour."
The Earl bowed a cold recognition of the compliment,—for he was far too enlightened a man not to feel disgust at the sycophantic language in which that compliment was conveyed—and he was likewise convinced that there was some ulterior object in view.