“Dr. Radcliffe told him that he would not have his two legs for his three kingdoms,” said Lord Savile, with a sullen laugh.
Devonshire smiled a little and so did Ormond, but Lady Betty looked straight before her over the sunny turf.
“My Lord Savile,” she said, “the king has the wisest head in Europe.”
“A king is richest in the hearts that love him,” said Richard Trevor smoothly, “and the King of England is rich in these.”
Lady Betty darted a quick glance at him, and so did my Lord of Ormond, but they read nothing. It was a handsome, daring face, with gray eyes and thin lips,—a face to fear in anger.
“There are riddles and innuendoes everywhere,” remarked Lord Savile with a shrug; “one knows not how to read them.”
“What I say, I am quite ready to explain, my lord,” Trevor replied smiling, his eyes hard as flint.
As he spoke my Lady Sunderland came up from her carriage, and with her two other dames of fashion. In the stir and flutter of their entrance, Lady Betty and the two young men, Trevor and Lord Savile, were, to all intents and purposes, alone, and she was perforce a listener to their talk, which was by no means friendly.
Lord Savile thrust his hands into his pockets.
“What flowers bloom at Saint Germain, sir?” he asked, with a drawl.