Could it be that
the beauty of Mistress Penwick had become notorious at Whitehall and
that the Duke was hunting for her? These thoughts passed speedily
through her brain, while the ogling Monmouth waited for her answer to
his accusation. She spoke with a shy little twist of her head, vainly
trying to blush like little innocence.
"How can I hold out against thee, Duke? Thou dost steal my secret;
here, then, read it for thyself." With a lightening glance he finished
reading what he had begun before.
"I was right, sweet Katherine; 'tis a trysting letter, and thou art
to go to him to-night at nine? Thou shalt not; I'll have thee for
myself." Now they had made a great mistake. Constance thought to
convince the Duke she had no lover. He misunderstood and believed
her to be the Katherine he had come after. She, thinking to gain his
secret, allowed him to think so, and quickly took up her new part.
"Thou dost embarrass me, Duke!"
"In very truth," said he, "we have heard of thy great beauty at
Whitehall, and have come hither to claim thee for ourselves.
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