‘Well?’

‘Mary is married to my cousin’s boy, William of Orange. And … so far, there are no sons there either.’

‘It’s early yet.’

‘Still no sons.’

‘What are you driving at?’

‘The Princess Anne is unmarried.’

‘You mean you want George Lewis to have her?’

‘It would be an excellent match. It could so easily happen that George Lewis came to the throne of England.’

Ernest Augustus smiled at her with amusement. ‘And that,’ he said, ‘is where you would rather see him than anywhere in the world.’

‘Don’t forget he has English blood in his veins, through me.’

‘You, my dear, would never allow me to forget it.’

‘I want him to try for Anne.’

‘And you think Charles and James would have him?’

‘Why not. He is their kinsman.’

‘They might possibly look higher than a petty Duke of Hanover.’

‘There is no harm in trying.’

Ernest Augustus shook his head. ‘To go over there, to be paraded like a stud bull. How do you think he would fare? Imagine Charles exercising his wit on him! I’m not so enamoured of the English.’

‘My dear husband, are you mad? You are not comparing the Dukedom of Hanover with the crown of England.’

‘You’re looking far ahead, Sophia. Charles has to die without legitimate heirs. I admit there is every possibility that he will. James has to die without a son. That is certainly not likely. And if he does he has two daughters. Mary is already married to Orange. She also has to die without heirs; then would it be Anne’s turn; and if George were her consort, I admit that he could share the crown, after all he is actually in the line of succession – though some way back.’

‘Through me,’ Sophia reminded him with a satisfied smile.

‘Through you, my dear. But have you forgotten that not so long ago these English allowed their king to be murdered?’

‘It was that villain Cromwell. They have since deeply regretted it. Look how they adore Charles!’

‘Well, Charles happens to be larger than life. He happens to have charm and wit and a seraglio which the English people find colourful – particularly after years of puritan rule. If they ever had our George Lewis they would quickly discover that he was no Charles.’

‘He is a good soldier. Besides, he is young yet. His manners may improve. Particularly if he went to England.’

‘If he went to England. Are you suggesting that he should go?’

Sophia nodded.

‘You have spoken to him of this?’

‘Certainly I have not. He is only just come home and naturally I should speak of it to you first.’

‘To try for Anne …’ mused Ernest Augustus.

‘Well?’

‘I am not eager.’

‘But why not?’

‘I don’t think they’d have him. He’d make a fool of himself.’

‘Oh, come, why shouldn’t a Prince visit a kinsman’s court?’

Ernest Augustus was silent. ‘I’ll think about it.’

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. Discuss it with Clara, she wondered; she pictured them lying side by side in his big bed, making love and then talking politics. What Clara said would be important to him. Well, Sophia was not having that. She had no objection to his taking the woman to bed, but that should be for one purpose and it did not include deciding the future marriage of the Crown Prince who, Sophia would have him remember, was her son as well as his.

‘I think,’ said Sophia, ‘that until we have come to some agreement on this matter this should be a secret between us two; and even when we have decided on action we should take only one other into our confidence – and that is George Lewis.’

Ernest Augustus looked into his wife’s face. He admired her. He was fortunate in his marriage. And she was right of course. If they decided George Lewis should go to England, and if the King of England would not accept him as his niece’s husband, they did not want the whole world laughing at the Crown Prince of Hanover.

Moreover he had not entirely decided that George Lewis should go to England.

‘You are right,’ he said. ‘We will discuss this at greater length – and it shall be a matter between us two.’

Sophia bowed her head. In the same way as Ernest Augustus was satisfied with her, so was she with him.

George Lewis was bored with the dancing. He could never dance gracefully and had been the despair of all the dancing masters who had attempted to instruct him.

He had eaten well; his father had questioned him about the army and that had been interesting; but there was nothing else at court to attract him except the women; he had been eyeing a few of them and selecting those who might be his kind.

His mother had talked as usual of England – how everything that was done there was so much better than everywhere else. He remembered how she always had talked like that. It bored him as it did quite a number of people in spite of the fact that she was supposed to be witty and very learned. That in itself of course was of no interest to him.

Beside his father was a woman of whom he had heard – Clara von Platen. He could see that his father was more taken with her than he had ever been by any other mistress; it was understandable; she had personality. Her glittering eyes were alert as though she missed nothing and at the same time she conveyed a deep sensuality which was not lost on George Lewis.

She was not the sort he would go for. But sitting next to her was a very pretty girl. Her gown was cleverly cut to show a seductive figure; her large eyes were soft and what George Lewis always thought of as full of promise. There was a pretty girl indeed.

He asked who she was.

‘She is the Platen’s sister.’

‘Sister of my father’s whore?’

‘Yes, sir. She is married to John von dem Bussche. You remember him?’

‘I do. He tried to teach me languages among other things. He didn’t succeed.’

‘His wife, sir, might be more successful if she tried to teach you.’

‘She’d teach me nothing I don’t know.’

‘She’s aware that we’re talking of her.’

It was true. The beautiful eyes were on them; and they stayed on George Lewis. He felt excited at once. She wasn’t clever like the sister; she was pretty; and, oh yes, he’d enjoy teaching her. Rather amusing that. He reckoned old John von dem Bussche was better in a schoolroom than in a bedchamber; and he hadn’t really had much success in the former, poor man.

Poor man! But he had no right to marry a pretty girl like that.

‘Shall I tell her Your Highness wishes to speak to her?’

‘No,’ said George Lewis. ‘I will arrange that myself.’

The evening had now taken on an interest. He would speak to her soon; he would let her know that he had no intention of making a lot of pretty speeches; he was a man who believed in taking the shortest cut to the bedchamber.

They danced after the meal. It wasn’t easy for him to act secretly because everyone would be watching him, so he made no attempt to.

‘I don’t care for dancing,’ he said, his eyes, taking in the voluptuous curves of her young body, explaining more than words what he did care for.

She lowered hers and said: ‘Nor I, Your Highness.’

‘I’ve been watching you.’

‘I saw you. I … I hope you were not displeased.’

‘Oh, I was pleased. I hope to be more pleased.’

She giggled, understanding.

‘Let’s take a turn in the gardens, shall we? There are too many watching us here.’

She agreed willingly.

‘Come on,’ he said, and they went out.

Clara came to her sister’s apartments.

‘Well?’ she said.

‘All’s well,’ answered Marie.

‘Already?’

‘He’s not one to wait. I was afraid he would get impatient and go elsewhere. You said that wasn’t to happen.’

‘Still … But perhaps you’re right. You must see that you don’t lose your grip on him.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Clara laughed and gave her sister a little push. ‘I can trust you, I know.’

‘And what about John?’

‘Leave John to me. I’ll get Frank to speak to him. This is after all, a family affair.’

Marie was nothing loath. She was tired of John and George Lewis the crude and forthright lover was virile enough to make up for his lack of manners; moreover, Clara was now delighted. The task of ministering to the sexual needs of the house of Hanover – which were considerable – was in the hands of the Meisenburg sisters, which was after all the reason why they had joined this court in the first place, so she might say Mission Accomplished. Only of course the important part in such an operation was not only attaining one’s goal, but holding it against all comers.

That was the task for the future.

Clara recognized the power of the Duchess Sophia and had no wish to challenge it. Now that Marie was firmly established as the mistress of George Lewis and she herself was even more firmly that of Ernest Augustus she was deeply concerned with holding those positions; and she realized that the most likely direction from which such a threat could come would be from the Duchess Sophia.

She was almost modest with Sophia; as soon as she came into the Duchess’s presence she was the demure maid of honour and never betrayed by a look or a gesture the power which was hers.

Clever woman! thought Sophia; and she respected her for it.

Clara would go further. She would let the Duchess see that when she did use her influence with the Duke it was in his wife’s interest.

Sophia’s admiration for England was well known; in the opposite direction was her dislike of Celle. The latter she did not speak of as she did of the former but it was none the less fierce for all that.