“Madam, may I beg your Grace for an audience of a few minutes on a matter entirely private? It is quite apart from any public matter, I dare assure your company in asking their pardon for withdrawing you a moment.”
He gave her his hand to the ante-room, and to the recess at the further end. The courtier in him was still predominant for the first moment.
“If, Madam, I may convey to my Master what you have said, ’twill be a sensible pleasure to his Royal Highness.— I venture to assure you of his sympathy with Mr. Gay’s genius and his horror at the insult put upon your Grace. He spoke of it last night so as I wish you could have been present to hear.”
She drew back a little, but not ungraciously.
“I thought the business had been private, my Lord.”
“Undoubtedly, Madam—but yet——”
“There can be no objection to your conveying my humble duty to his Royal Highness. There is not one of the King’s subjects but should present his duty!”
Her smile however made the message particular and the courtier was content. He proceeded to the next item, but this time with a very different manner. Watching him closely she could perceive that his hand on the back of the chair shook a little. He might have laid it there to steady it.
“Madam, I appeal to you now as the kind protectress of Mrs. Lavinia Fenton. There’s a rumour in the town today that she did not return to Queensbury House last night. That—in short—that the lady has been abducted or has eloped. (Suddenly his voice broke and quivered. He looked at her entreating)—Madam, I am very uneasy, dare I beg any information you have?”
The Duchess gazed at him in astonishment. Never had she seen the American Prince moved one inch before from his haughty or languid composure. She might have pitied him but for her knowledge of Diana’s mind and his persecution of an innocent girl. She laughed coldly.