Part 29 (1/2)
He crossed the room, turning an instant to look, with a humorous, quizzical glance, at Portsmouth. Nell mistook the glance for a jealous one and, perking up quickly, caught the royal eye with a challenging eye, tapping her sword-hilt meaningly. Had the masks been off, the situation would have differed. As it was, the King smiled indifferently.
The episode did not affect him further than to touch his sense of humour. Nell turned triumphantly to her partner.
”Odsbud,” she exclaimed, with a delicious, youthful swagger, ”we may have to measure swords in your behalf, dear hostess. I trow the fellow loves you.”
”Have a care,” whispered the d.u.c.h.ess, nervously. ”It is the King.”
”What care I for a king?” saucily replied Nell, with a finger-snap. She had taken good care, however, to speak very low. ”My arm, my arm, d.u.c.h.ess!” she continued, with a gallant step. ”Places, places; or the music will outstrip us.”
”Strut on, my pretty bantam,” thought Buckingham, whose eyes lost little that might be turned to his own advantage; ”I like you well.”
There was no mending things at this stage by an apology. The d.u.c.h.ess, therefore, tactfully turned the affair into one of mirth, in which she was quickly joined by her guests. With a merry laugh, she took the Irish gallant's proffered arm, and together they led the dance. The King picked a lady indifferently from among the maskers.
It was a graceful old English measure. Nell's roguish wits, as well as her feet, kept pace with the music. She a.s.sured her partner that she had never loved a woman in all her life before and followed this with a hundred merry jests and sallies, keyed to the merry fiddles, so full of blarney that all were set a-laughing. Anon, the gallants drew their swords and crossed them in the air, while the ladies tiptoed in and out.
Nell's blade touched the King's blade. When all was ended the swords saluted with a knightly flourish, then tapped the floor.
There was an exultant laugh from one and all, and the dance was done.
Nell hastened to her partner's side. She caught the d.u.c.h.ess's hand and kissed it.
”You dance divinely, your grace,” she said. ”A G.o.ddess on tiptoe.”
”Oh, Beau Adair!” replied the d.u.c.h.ess, courtseying low; and her eyes showed that she was not wholly displeased at the warmth of his youthful adoration.
”Oh, d.u.c.h.ess!” said Nell, fondly, acknowledging the salute.
The d.u.c.h.ess hastened to join his Majesty and together they threaded their way through many groups.
Nell tossed her head.
”How I love her!” she muttered, veiling the sarcasm under her breath.
She crossed the great room, her head erect. Her confidence was quite restored. This had been the most difficult bit of acting she had ever done; and how well it had been done!
The other dancers in twos and threes pa.s.sed from the room in search of quiet corners, in which to whisper nothings.
Nell's eyes fell upon Strings, who had had a slight turn for the better in the world and who now, in a dress of somewhat substantial green, was one of the fiddlers at the d.u.c.h.ess's ball.
”How now, sirrah!” she said, sharply, as she planted herself firmly before him to his complete surprise. ”I knew you were here.”
She placed one of her feet in a devil-may-care fas.h.i.+on upon a convenient chair in manly contempt of its upholstery and peeped amusedly through her mask at her old friend. He looked at her in blank amazement.
”Gads-bobbs,” he exclaimed, in confusion, ”the Irish gentleman knows me!”
”There's nothing like your old fiddle, Strings,” continued Nell, still playing with delight upon his consternation. ”It fills me with forty dancing devils. If you were to play at my wake, I would pick up my shroud, and dance my way into Paradise.”
”Your lords.h.i.+p has danced to my fiddling before?” he gasped, in utter amazement.