‘We?’ said the Duchess, her startling black-fringed green eyes wide open.

‘Yes,’ said Fox. He waved his hand. ‘Here should be the centre of the Prince’s party.’

‘You think he’ll be a Whig?’

‘Certainly, Highness. Is not old George a Tory?’

The Duchess clasped her hands. ‘Of course. It is inevitable.’

‘His uncle should show an interest in his welfare.’

‘And what will HM say to that?’

‘It will not be the first time Your Highness has acted without the approbation of His Majesty.’

‘We’ll do it,’ cried the Duchess. ‘We’ll cultivate the acquaintance of our nephew.’

‘It will be necessary to go warily.’

‘Very,’ agreed the Duchess. ‘The King won’t have us at Court, you know.’

‘I know it full well, Your Highness. But the Prince will choose his own friends. He will, I believe, find more to interest him in his uncle’s residence than in his father’s royal palaces.’

‘We should be heading for a real family quarrel.’

‘History,’ said Mr Fox cynically, ‘has a rather endearing way of repeating itself.’

‘A Prince’s party to set itself against the King’s party,’ cried the Duchess. ‘We’ll do it.’

‘I thought Your Highness would wish to,’ said Mr Fox demurely.


* * *

George was in love once more. He had found the new paragon in the apartments of his sisters when he had gone to visit Charlotte, Augusta and Elizabeth. He had scarcely been able to talk to them so overcome was he by the charms of Miss Mary Hamilton.

Mary was wonderful. Of all the women he had so far loved there was not one to compare with this new charmer. She had all the virtues, and being six years older than he was seemed to him ideal. Nor was she a foolish, simpering girl – as he now thought of Harriot; nor was she a blasé married woman cynically breaking her marriage vows. Mary Hamilton was a pure woman and his love for her was pure.

He confided to his brother Frederick, to Cholmondeley, to Maiden. This was different from anything that had ever happened before. This was a pure affection.

‘Do you imagine,’ he demanded of Frederick, ‘that I wish to seduce this lady?’

Did he not? asked Frederick in surprise.

‘Oh, no, you must understand, Fred, this is a pure love. But for my station in life I should immediately offer her marriage.’

Was this not a little rash?

In the circumstances, no. This was quite different from any of those other adventures of his.

‘Yet at the time …’ Frederick tentatively pointed out.

‘Oh, be silent, Fred. What do you know of love? I have written to her.’

‘George, you remember Uncle Cumberland’s letters. They cost our father thirteen thousand pounds.’

‘Don’t mention my Mary in connection with my Uncle Cumberland, I beg of you.’

‘But there were letters.’

‘Do you think that Mary would ever use my letters against me. Not that I could write as our uncle did. My love for Mary is pure. It will remain so.’

‘But will that be very satisfactory?’ asked Frederick, who had come to expect a certain line of action from his brother.

George sighed and went on: ‘I have written to her telling her that I am in love with a lady of the Court. I have mentioned no names. I have begged her not to be offended by my confidences.’

‘Why should she be?’

The Prince of Wales was too blissfully happy to be angry with his brother’s obtuseness. If Fred could not see that this was different from anything that had gone before, it was because he was too young to appreciate this strange and wonderful thing that had happened to him.

‘I have written to her. You shall read the letter Fred. I fancy I have a way with a letter.’

Frederick took the paper and read:

I now declare that my fair incognito is your dear dear self. Your manners, your sentiments, the tender feelings of your heart so totally coincide with my ideas, not to mention the many advantages you have in person over many other ladies, that I not only highly esteem you but love you more than words or ideas can express …

Frederick said: ‘But how do you know about her sentiments and the tender feelings of her heart?’

‘I spoke with her when I was in our sisters’ apartments.’

‘But only briefly.’

‘My dear Fred, one can fall in love in an instant. I have assured her of my friendship.’

Frederick glanced down at the paper.

Adieu, dearest Miss Hamilton, and allow me to sign myself him who will esteem and love you till the end of his life.

Frederick whistled, but George impatiently snatched the paper from him, sealed it and summoned Lord Maiden to take it to the lady.


* * *

The Duke of Cumberland rode out to Kew and when he demanded to be presented to the King none dared dismiss him.

George, being told that his brother was asking for an audience, was uncertain how to act. He thought he had made it clear that he had no wish to receive his brother who had so disgraced the family. And yet how could he send Cumberland away? He shouldn’t have come of course. He should have written and ascertained first that the King would see him.

George paced up and down his chamber. He thought of Lady Grosvenor and the letters Cumberland had written to her. No, he’d not see his brother. Cumberland lived riotously with that Duchess of his and she was a woman he would not receive.

It was sad, of course, that there should be quarrels in the family, but sadder still that members of it should behave as disgracefully as Henry had.

Then George thought of his mother who had dominated him, and with her lover Lord Bute put him into leading strings until he had broken free of them. She had loved him, though; he was certain of that. And she had died so bravely hiding the fact that she was in terrible pain from the cancer in her throat.

‘Forgive your brothers, George,’ she had said. ‘Don’t have quarrels in the family if you can avoid it. Your father and his father … Your Grandfather and his …’ Quarrel, quarrel, quarrel … Father against son. And it was no good to the family; no good to the monarchy.

Yet he had refused to receive Cumberland although he had accepted Gloucester – but not his duchess.

He called suddenly: ‘All right. All right. Tell the Duke I’ll see him.’

Cumberland stood before him, a little sheepish, a little truculent. He should be ashamed, thought George, writing those disgusting letters to Lady Grosvenor … and making me pay thirteen thousand pounds’ damages to the woman’s husband. And now he had this woman with the fantastic eyelashes. Eyelashes, eh what? thought the King. Who but a fool would choose a wife for her eyelashes?

‘Well,’ said the King, ‘so you’ve come here to Kew, eh, what?’

‘Yes, George. I thought we should make an end to this quarrel.’

So it was George, eh? The brother, not the subject. As though it were for him to decide such a matter.

‘I said I’d not receive you at Court and I meant it. You understand that, eh, what?’

‘At Court, yes. I understand that. I’ve been involved in scandal, but I am your brother George.’

‘H’m,’ grunted the King. ‘A regrettable fact.’

Cumberland looked hurt and the King was immediately sorry. ‘Scandalous,’ he said gruffly. ‘Don’t you know that? Eh? What?’

‘Yes, of course. But it’s in the past.’

‘And then to marry without consulting me. And those letters.’ The King blinked his eyes as though trying to prevent himself seeing those lurid phrases.

‘It’s over, George. Grosvenor’s had his pound of flesh.’

‘Yes, at whose expense?’

‘You’ve been a wonderful brother and a wonderful king to me, George.’

The King grunted.

‘I’ve thought a great deal about you. You’re a lucky man, George. When I think of your family. Octavius is the thirteenth and the Queen will soon be presenting you with another. A lucky man, George.’

‘H’m,’ said the King, and thought of young George. What was he up to now? One never knew. And rising eighteen. Something would have to be done when he was eighteen. He’d have to be given a little freedom. And when one considered what tricks he could get up to without it – that was an alarming proposition. Still, he was fortunate to have such a fertile wife even if she lacked eyelashes a yard long.

‘I feel deprived, George, not to know my own nephews and nieces. I’d give a great deal to be allowed to visit them.’

Oh, no, thought the King, you are not going to contaminate the children.

‘I will conduct you to the Queen,’ he said. ‘I don’t see why you should not pay your respects to her.’

Cumberland ostentatiously wiped his eyes. He was succeeding beyond his hopes. He had always known old George was a sentimental fellow. He had told Fox so. It was only because he had made no special effort at a reconciliation that there had been none.

‘George, it would give me such pleasure …’

‘Come this way,’ said the King.

Charlotte was sitting at her embroidery, her snuff box beside her, a few of her ladies working with her. She looked startled when she saw her brother-in-law and at a sign from the King dismissed her women.

Cumberland approached her and kissed her hands. ‘This is a very happy day for me, Your Majesty,’ he said.

‘My brother called on me and so I brought him to you,’ said the King.

And even as he spoke he noticed how plain she looked and he kept thinking of his brother’s wife who, he had heard, was one of the most beautiful women in the country. Charlotte never looked her best during pregnancies – she was so small – and one scarcely saw her otherwise!