The news of Spencer’s despicable act and of Clancarty’s arrest had been spread over the town by the young men at Secretary Vernon’s dinner. When his grace saw Lady Clancarty afoot at that early hour, therefore, he ordered his coach to stop and descended with great dignity.
She did not wait for him to speak, running up to him with an eager face.
“My lord, my lord,” she cried, “I claim your promise at Newmarket. You will help me save my Lord Clancarty.”
Devonshire gracefully kissed her hand.
“Dear Lady Clancarty,” he replied, “I would hesitate only at John the Baptist’s head upon a charger! I shall keep my promise. Indeed, ’tis partly kept already, for I have just arranged with my Lords of Ormond and Bedford to go with me to Kensington for your sake. But,” the great man paused, glancing at the beautiful face, “my dear child, you would be the best suppliant,” he added.
“I will go,” Betty answered, “though, indeed, my lord, I do not know how the king will receive me—he is so cold! And my father—” her voice broke at the word; “Lord Sunderland will not help me. Sir Edward has suggested Lady Russell as an intercessor.”
An expression of surprise passed over Devonshire’s face, but it brightened.
“I know of no one better,” he said gravely; “nay, dear Lady Clancarty, take heart of grace; your cold king is a merciful one.”
Betty drew a sharp breath.
“My Lord Clancarty is out of his clemency,” she said faintly; “the Habeas Corpus Act—” she could say no more.