“Johnnie!” Lucy rose, stretching out her hands to him. “Whom do you flee? Oh, come to me.”
But whatever sanctuary he sought, it was not in Lucy’s arms. “You?” he cried. “No, it is the king I need—the king!” He swung around. “Majesty, where are you?”
“Here!” Through the dresses the earl had parted, Coke saw Charles step from around some furniture. “Well, sir? What means this clamour?”
“Sire!” Rochester threw himself down at the king’s feet. “You must protect me!”
“From whom? Get up, for pity’s sake.”
But the earl did not move and then did not have to answer, for through the rear doors charged three large men. “We have you!” the first of them cried, as the trio strode toward the prone nobleman. Men equally large intercepted them: the king’s bodyguards, interposing themselves between hun
