'And what of your manners in seducing a young girl in my care?'

'Seducing the girl? What nonsense!'

His lies were as facile as his tears.

She told him so. 'Do you think I cannot see through you? Do you think I'm a fool?'

'My dear love ...'

She threw him off. 'Perhaps these women believe your protestations. I have learned to distrust them.'

Maria was magnificent in her fury ... like a queen of tragedy. A damned attractive woman, Maria; and no other light affair could ever compare with his marriage to her. In his heart he regarded it as a marriage and always would, he told himself. But he must placate her. Now what was this letter. He could explain everything.

And he did in most glib manner.

'It's those debts, Maria, those damned debts. The bane of my life. They are bothering me again. Why cannot these people exercise a little patience? They'll get their money in time. I did something rather foolish, Maria. This Miss Paget of yours...'

'Of mine?'

'Your guest, my dear love, and she is nothing to me ... absolutely nothing.'

'You will have to convince me of that.'

'I can ... with ease ... the utmost ease. I was telling you of these debts. Her family is very rich, as you know, and I am getting desperate. I can't go to my father again .. /

'Oh, these debts/ cried Maria in exasperation. 'Why cannot we live within our means?'

The Quarrel g6i

'I should like that, Maria ... the two of us in a country house somewhere like the Pavilion.'

The Pavilion! She laughed. That costly country house on which he was spending a fortune!

'Just the two of us, Maria. Well, I was foolish enough to ask Miss Paget for a loan of £10,000. Now you wondered why we disappeared together at Cumberland's. She had brought me some of the money ... as she said in the letter. But not all. She brought seven thousand pounds, which is very useful as you can realize, Maria.'

'Very,' she said, 'if she ever gave it to you.'

'I am telling you what happened.'

'And I am telling you that I don't believe a word of it.'

'Now, Maria, are you telling me that I am a liar?'

She pushed him from her and walked to the door. 'Yes,' she said, 'I am. I have long known that you were skilled in that art.'

'This is no way to talk to your husband.'

'My husband,' she said. 'Will you go to your family and call yourself that? I must endure sly looks. I must be insulted by your brother's wife. And you allow it to happen. Please go now before I lose my temper.'

'Before you have lost it? That is a joke.'

In a sudden irresistible irritation she took off her shoe and threw it at him. It caught the diamond star on his jacket.

He stood staring at it as it lay on the floor.

Then he strode out of the room and went back to Carlton House.

M'

Lady Jersey

Lady Jersey

Shortly after the Paget affair the Prince made the acquaintance of an extremely fascinating woman. This was the wife of the Earl of Jersey who had become his Lord of the Bedchamber and Master of Horse.

Frances, Countess of Jersey, had attracted him largely because she was as different from Maria as a woman could be. She was small and dainty; a woman of the world; a leader of fashion, a beauty possessed of a pungent wit, an undoubted aristocrat. She was considerably older than the Prince—nine years in fact—and was the mother of two sons and seven daughters, some of whom were already married and had made her a grandmother.

But no sooner had the Prince set eyes on her than he was enchanted, and Lady Jersey was scarcely the sort of woman to indulge in a light love affair.

She was the daughter of an Irish Bishop and from her earliest youth had been expected to make a good match not only on account of her outstanding beauty but because of her intellect. She had been known as the beautiful Miss Frances Twysden and no one had been surprised when she had become the Countess of Jersey.

She was soon moving in the highest circles and through her

friend Lady Harcourt—an intimate of the Queen—she had very soon gained the confidence of Charlotte herself.

Lady Jersey was ambitious. She was looking for adventure and more than that—power; and she knew that her husband would be complaisant. Her children were all growing up and she needed the diversions she visualized through an association with the Prince of Wales. But she was not the woman to take second place, which was what every one of the Prince's mistresses had been obliged to do. He had always gone back to Maria Fitzherbert, the erring husband asking forgiveness.

But it was not going to be so with Lady Jersey.

The Prince sensed this and in spite of his quarrels with Maria, in spite of those moments when he told himself that all his troubles came through his association with her, he regarded her as the wife to whom he had made his vows and believed in his heart that however much they quarrelled she would always be there in the background waiting to comfort him when he, penitently, returned to her.

He was a little afraid of this quick-witted woman with the alluring body, with the beautiful intelligent eyes—this clever Lady Jersey. He believed that if she finally took possession of him she would never wish to let him go—and how was he going to explain that to Maria?

Lady Jersey had her own ideas. He would not have to explain, because this was going to be the end of Maria Fitzherbert—the end of that ridiculous marriage which was no marriage. Fat, complacent Maria could say goodbye to her Prince and go back to being the virtuous widow she had been before she met him.

The Prince avoided Lady Jersey, but she would not allow that. She contrived to be wherever he was; and she began to fascinate him so that he looked for her at every house he visited. In time hostesses knew that unless she was present he was bored and listless.

The whole of London was watching the effect the mercurial Frances was having upon the Prince of Wales.

There followed the inevitable result which the Prince had sought. Now, he had thought, it would be like every other affair. He would enjoy it for a while, grow tired of it, and with

satiety would conic repentance. He would go back to Maria; there would be reproaches and recriminations, then they would be reconciled and he would be the good and faithful husband until the next charmer came along.

But it was not quite like that. The more he made love with Frances, the more he wished to. It was a strange emotion which lie felt for her. By no means the romantic love he had felt for Maria ... nor even that which he had known with Perdita Robinson. This was different; this was an irresistible fascination which astonished him because he was not in love; and he was a romantic who had always looked for love.

This was different. It repelled and attracted, yet he could not resist it. When he was with Frances he was enslaved.

Maria knew of the relationship between the Prince and Lady Jersey.

Another of them! she thought. When it is over he will come back to me full of repentance. And I shall forgive him. Why does he behave in this way?

But what was the use? What could she do? Only wait for the attraction to pass as it had passed so many times before.

Lady Harcourt talked to the Queen.

The Queen felt at peace with Lady Harcourt who was one of her oldest friends. She had confided in her during the old days—the time before she had become an important figure at the Court. Lady Harcourt knew of the slights she had suffered when the King had kept her shut away from Court, and she had lived quietly at Kew, bearing children. So now if anyone could speak to the Queen of the intimate affairs of her family, that woman was Lady Harcourt.