The King laughed dryly.
“He might refuse the large earldom, as he scorned the little knighthood.”
“If your Majesty secured him estates suitable to his rank he could have no reason to refuse. He was solicitous and firm then for his son—but now!”
Her reply was as diplomatic and suggestive as it was sincere, and Charles loved such talents.
“Upon my soul, dear Mistress Falkingham, I love your cleverness,” said the King, “and I will go further, I—” He stooped and whispered in her ear, but she drew back in affright and anxiety.
“Oh, your Majesty, your Majesty,” she said, “I had not thought—”
She moved on distractedly, but he put out his hand and stayed her.
“Ah, a moment, sweetheart,” he urged.
“I must go to the Queen,” she answered hurriedly. “Oh, your Majesty, your Majesty,” she repeated, “would you ruin me?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Until the Queen welcomed me here I have had nothing but sorrow. I am friendless and alone.”
“No, no,” said Charles, kindly, “not alone while Charles is King in England.”