'Well, Maria, you are very attractive.'

'That may be, but surely not attractive enough for so much fuss.'

'Too modest, Maria. You could have accepted Bedford. Then you would have been a Duchess.'

'A title for which I have no great desire, Isabella.'

'No more than you have a desire to become the first lady of London society.'

Maria laughed. 'For how long? Remember poor Perdita Robinson. Her reign was of very short duration.'

'You're no Perdita. Yours could be for ever, perhaps.'

'I can see no honour in it, Isabella.'

'You must be fond of him. He is charming, is he not?'

'Charming yes ... and modest for one in his position. He is interesting too when he is not talking in the most exaggerated terms of his feelings for me which, I am fully aware, are aimed at one object. No, Isabella, your charming Prince is not going to succeed.'

'Not mine, Maria. You mean yours.'

'Our Prince, then. He will soon be tired—have no doubt of that. He is far too young and impressionable not to discover someone more willing than I who will be the most beautiful woman in the world, who will embody all he looks for in women and so on.'

'He is gallant,' admitted Isabella. 'He has always been fond of women; but I ... and others tell me the same ... have never seen him in this state before. He is interested in nothing but you; he talks of nothing but you. He makes no secret of his passion. You cannot deny, Maria, that the young man is in love with you.'

'Oh, Isabella, I am too old, too experienced of life ...'

'With two old husbands?'

'Thomas was not so old. He was only twelve years older than

i:

'But you were little more than a nurse to both of your husbands, Maria; is it not time that you began to enjoy life?'

'I enjoy it well enough, Isabella; and I certainly should not if I were doing something of which I was ashamed.'

'Other women ...'

'I am not other women, Isabella. How could I go to confession if I were living in sin ... which is clearly what he wishes. No, the best news you could give me would be that someone else has caught his fancy and that he is no longer interested in me.'

'I don't believe he will be satisfied until you give in.'

'Then he will have to prepare himself for a life of ^-satisfaction. I have decided to leave London. The less he sees of me the better. Pray do not mention the fact that I am going. I am leaving early tomorrow for Marble Hill.'

Isabella smiled sardonically. Did Maria think that by remov-

ing herself to Richmond she would escape from the Prince of

Wales?

• * •

Isabella was right. Within a few hours the Prince had discovered where she had gone. He immediately called for his phaeton and rode out to Marble Hill.

She must receive him. She must listen to an account of his sufferings when he had heard she had left Park Street; he had thought at first that she might have hidden herself somewhere. It was a great joy to find that she had only removed her bright presence to Marble Hill.

She felt the need of a little country air, she told him. She lived very simply.

There was nothing like the simple life, he agreed. He too longed to get away from balls and banquets and everything that went with them. The glitter of society had no charm for him ... since it had none for her.

Tm afraid the simple life I prefer would have no charms for Your Highness.'

'There is only one life that has any charms for me, Maria— and that is life with you.'

She sighed; she begged him to change the subject and talk of other matters. Anything in the world she wished, he said; so they talked lightly of politics, of her gardens, of people they knew, and she laughed gaily and he was enchanted with all her views, with her quick spontaneous laughter, with everything she said and did; and when he left, reluctantly, for it was she who suggested that he should go, he was more in love than ever.

Every day he drove out to Marble Hill. He declared that he would not let a day pass without a glimpse of Maria. She would understand in time how much he loved her; she would realize that she could not go on being so cruel... and so on.

He was determined to become her lover; and she was equally determined that he should not. But she could not turn him away when he came to Marble Hill; she could not help being fond of him; but her answer was always the same.

Everyone was talking about the Prince's passion for Mrs. Fitzherbert and a new ballad had been written and was sung all over the town:

'On Richmond Hill there lives a lass More bright than May day morn, Whose charms all other maids' surpass A rose without a thorn.

This lass so neat, with smile so sweet, Has won my right good will, Vd crowns resign to call thee mine, Sweet lass of Richmond Hill/

In desperation the Prince rode out to Chertsey. Charles fames Fox had helped him over the Perdita affair; he had known how to act when she threatened to present the bond he had given her and publish his letters. Very satisfactorily Charles had dealt with that matter—and had rounded it up in a characteristically cynical way by becoming Perdita's lover. Charles would help him with Maria. He was certain of it.

Charles received him with pleasure and so did Lizzie Armi-stead. A delightful woman, Lizzie; she reminded him in some ways of Maria—a pale shadow of Maria, of course; but that serenity, that poise! And Charles had changed since they lived together in an almost respectable manner. It showed what the right kind of woman could do for a man. Charles, he believed, was more or less faithful to Lizzie; he still drank too much and gambled heavily—but he had changed. He had mellowed; it was as though he had found something well worth while in life.

The Prince sighed. It would be the same with him and Maria. He had sown enough wild oats; he wanted now to reap the contentment which should be the right of any man who was capable of enjoying it.

'We are honoured, Your Highness,' said Lizzie, sweeping a graceful curtsey. She gave no hint that they had once been very intimate indeed. Admirable Lizzie!

He embraced her with tears in his eyes.

'I am happy to see you well, my dear. And Charles?'

Charles had heard his arrival and was coming out to greet him.

'My dear, dear friend/

Tears, thought Charles. This means he wants me to do some thing. How can I induce the woman to throw aside her principles and jump into bed with him?

'Your Highness, you honour us.'

'And envy you, you fortunate pair! I would give up everything to know contentment such as you enjoy in this little cottage.'

Cottage! thought Lizzie. It was scarcely that. It was a com fortably sized house and she was very proud of it. Compared with Carlton House, of course ...

'We are astonished that Your Highness should deign to visit such a humble dwelling,' she replied.

'My sweet Liz, it's not the dwelling I come to see but you two dear friends.'

'Your Highness will come into our humble drawing room doubtless,' said Fox, 'and perhaps partake of a little humble refreshment which will be served by our humble servants.'

The Prince laughed through his tears. Then he said appeal-ingly: 'The humility is all on my side, Charles. I come to beg of you to help me.'

He sat in the drawing room, diminishing it by his dazzling presence. His large plump form weighing heavily on the chair he had selected—feet stretched before him, glittering shoe buckles almost vying with the magnificent diamond star on the left side of his elegant green coat.

When wine had been brought he looked helplessly from Charles to Lizzie. 'What am I going to do?' he demanded. 'She receives me. She is kind; she laughs; she is gracious; but she will not allow me to as much as kiss her cheek.'