‘Then why did you not tell me you were going?’
It was the same dreadful question over again. Of course he ought to have told her, and if he had had any idea that she would have come to know of it he certainly would have done so. He looked so sorry (not to say silly) that Margaret’s heart melted a little.
‘You know how I hate anything clandestine and underhand, William Henry.’
‘I know it,’ he answered, with a deep sigh. His face was one of such abject misery, that one would have said, whatever he had done, he was sufficiently punished for it. Her heart melted more and more; he went on penitently:
‘Of course I ought to have told you, Margaret, but I did not conceal it because there was anything to be ashamed of. Only I knew you would not like it, that you would think there was harm in it—as you do, it seems—where there is no harm. It was surely a great piece of goodnature on their part, after I had disappointed them about the play, to offer to do their best for it, and to get the Duke——’
‘Did they both go with you to St. James’s Palace?’ she put in drily.
He was on the point of saying that there had been only room for two in the coach, but fortunately he was a young gentleman who thought before he spoke. It would certainly not have been a satisfactory explanation, and the very idea that he had been about to make it turned him scarlet.
‘No wonder you are ashamed of yourself, sir,’ said she, perceiving his confusion. ‘Why do you talk to me about “they“ and “them,” when you know that only one of these women had anything to do with the matter?’
‘Well, naturally, my dear, Mrs. Jordan was the person to introduce me to his Royal Highness, since she has been privately married to him.’