The Duke stared at him in disdainful amazement. Then he uttered a sharp laugh of derision.
“At law? Pray, my good George, what have I to do with the law?”
“By which you mean that you are above it.”
“That is where usually I have found myself.”
“Usually. The times are not usual. The times are monstrous unusual. Rochester, no doubt, thought as you do when he carried off Miss Mallet on Friday night. Yet Rochester is in the Tower in consequence.”
“And you think they’ll hang him?” Buckingham sneered.
“No. They won’t hang him, because the abduction was an unnecessary piece of buffoonery—because he is ready to mend Miss Mallet’s honour by marrying her.”
“Let me perish, George, but you’re more drunk than I thought. Miss Mallet is a person of importance in the world with powerful friends....”
“Miss Farquharson, too, has friends. Betterton is her friend, and he wields a deal of influence. You don’t lack for enemies to stir things up against you....”
“Oh, but a baggage of the theatre!” Buckingham was incredulously scornful.