But at that instant, as she was about to turn into her Majesty’s apartments, she saw Almsbury coming through the crowd in her direction. He was with three other men and they were laughing and talking together. She had not seen him since the day she had last gone to Almsbury House, but now she stopped and waited, hoping he might give her some news of Bruce. Corinna had been delivered of a son that same day and she knew they were planning to sail for France as soon as she was able. Now, to her amazement, she saw the Earl catch sight of her, turn suddenly, and disappear down some little side corridor.
“Why!” she cried, as hurt as though he had publicly slapped her.
But she did not hesitate, and grabbing up her skirts she started after him, running and dodging through the busy hall, brushing aside whoever was in her way. Coming up behind him she caught at his arm.
“Almsbury!”
He turned with reluctant slowness and looked down at her, but said nothing.
“What is it?” she demanded. “Why are you running away from me?”
He made no answer but merely gave a faint shrug of the shoulders.
“Tell me, Almsbury, when are they going?”
“Soon. Tomorrow, perhaps, or the next day.”
“Has he ever—” She hesitated, almost timid at asking this question, for she could not mistake the hardness and disapproval she saw in his eyes. But nevertheless she blurted it out. “Has he said anything to you about me?”
A look of disgust went across his face. “No.”
“Oh, Almsbury!” she cried imploringly, heedless of the curious glances they were getting on every hand. “Don’t you hate me too! I swear I’ve suffered enough—You’re the only friend I have! I don’t know what happened to me that day—I was out of my head! But, oh, Almsbury! I do love him! And now he’s going away and I’ll never see him again! I’ve got to see him once more—Won’t you help me, please? I won’t say a word—I just want to look at him. And I don’t know where to find him now—he never comes to Court. Oh, Almsbury! I
The Earl set his mouth grimly and turned away. “Not with my help you won’t.”
Baron Arlington was in conference with his physicians, being treated with leeches. But when his Grace of Buckingham was announced, all unexpected, the creatures were hastily plucked off and, engorged with blood, tossed into the wide-necked bottle in which they were kept. The Duke was ushered in and found his Lordship lying in bed, propped up by pillows, with papers scattered everywhere about him and a secretary on either side, reading letters. Buckingham, more affable than he had been in years, bowed and smiled with that charm which he could muster when an important occasion demanded.
“My lord.”
“Your Grace.”
At the Baron’s suggestion he took a chair next the bed, and once seated he spoke to him in a low voice, with an air of great confidential seriousness. “I have a matter of the gravest importance to discuss with your Lordship.”
Arlington dismissed the servants, though he knew that one or two would remain within easy hailing distance.
“I won’t dissemble with your Lordship,” continued Buckingham as soon as they were alone. “You know, of course, that the Duchess of Ravenspur has been for some time employed in my interests.”
Arlington gave a scarcely perceptible nod of his head.
“And I am likewise aware that she was engaged in yours—taking money from both of us to work against both. There’s no objection to that, I’ll admit, for it’s the custom of the Court. But now I’ve learned that her Grace has undertaken to murder your Lordship.”
At this Arlington’s cold austere face showed a faint indication of surprise. But the surprise was at the audacity of this man who, baulked by nothing, would somehow turn any circumstance to his own advantage.
“She intends to murder me, you say?” he inquired mildly.
“Yes, sir, she does. I can’t tell you how I found out, but I can tell you this much: The plot originated in France, where some persons of high authority are afraid your Lordship may try to hinder the proposed commercial alliance between our two countries. Someone has paid her an enormous sum to put you out of the way. I come in the name of our old friendship to warn you against her and put you on your guard.”
All through the recital Arlington had continued to stare solemnly at the Duke with his protruding pale-blue eyes. Something had obviously discouraged his Grace from his project and now here was the Duke trying to make out that the French wanted him murdered so that he could not obstruct a commercial alliance. When already he had sealed and signed a treaty far more complete and important! The man was a sort of strange phenomenon, interesting to observe as were the freaks of Bartholomew Fair.
“That woman’s a damned nuisance,” continued Buckingham. “I think she’d undertake to poison Old Rowley himself for a price. But that fatal weakness of his for never casting off a woman he’s once been in love with may keep her in power many years longer—unless you and I, sir, put our heads together and get rid of her!”
