Waldegrave took his leave. Still making love by the clock. Those rages of his were alarming. One of these days...thought Waldegrave, and surely that day not far distant...then young George!

Not a very hopeful prospect, thought Waldegrave; but he must be thankful that at last he was free of his duties with the Prince. He had never wanted them; and was delighted to find they were at an end.

Groom of the Stole indeed! Let Bute have it. His own idea was to put as big a distance as possible between himself and that uninteresting young man.

• • •

The King was angry. Newcastle and Henry Fox had just left him. He must, they had told him, respect the wishes of the Prince of Wales, and if the young man decided he preferred to live with his mother, then he should do so. The people would not be pleased if the King tried to interfere with his grandson’s domestic arrangements.

‘And I am not pleased that he defies my wishes.’

‘Your Majesty will remember your own case, and the feelings of the people. They were with you against your father. They would be with the Prince of Wales now.’

‘If he can’t be gracious enough to accept my offer of apartments he can forget about his allowance.’

‘It is a matter for the government, Your Majesty.’

‘A pox on the government!’

Silence for the outburst to subside.

‘So I am to have that puppy dictate to me?’

‘It would be the wish of the people and Your Majesty’s government. The custom is that when the Prince of Wales comes of age his allowance is increased. That sum has been set aside...’

‘So he is to dictate to us, is he?’

‘It is the custom, Your Majesty.’

‘So be it, then. Give him the money. Let him go his own way. I hear he’s an ignorant young fool and knows nothing. I was giving him a chance to learn...a chance to acquire an understanding of state matters...’

The ministers were silent. The King faced them, his rage subsiding suddenly; his voice breaking with emotion.

‘I thank God his grandmother is not here to see this day.’

• • •

The King summoned the Duke of Grafton.

‘You’re a member of the Prince’s household.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

‘I have something here I wish you to pass on to a man I have no wish to see here.’

Grafton murmured in surprise: ‘At Your Majesty’s service.’

The King went to a drawer and took out a golden key—the badge of office for the Groom of the Stole.

‘The Prince wishes to bestow this on a certain gentle...on a certain person. It is against my wishes that it should be bestowed on this person. But, my ministers inform me, it is for the Prince to choose the officers of his own household, so my wishes in this matter are ignored. Ignored, I say.’ His voice rose to a shout; and Grafton lowered his eyes. ‘Hey,’ went on the King, ‘take it, Grafton, and give it to the person for whom the Prince intends it.’

‘That is, Your Majesty?’

‘Lord Bute. I don’t want that Scottish fellow in my presence. My ministers inform me that he is to have the key. Very well, he shall have it, but by God, I’ll not give it to him Here, take it. Give it to him. Tell him it comes to him with my pleasure. I’ll tell you this, Grafton, if that Scotsman came within a few inches of my foot I’d be ready to kick him so hard he’d go hurtling back across the Border where he belongs.’

‘I will see that the key is delivered, Your Majesty.’

• • •

On his way from the- Prince’s apartments where he had been to congratulate him on the success of their firm stand against the King, Lord Bute met the Duke of Grafton. Grafton was looking rather uneasy as he paused, exchanged a few words and muttered that he had just come from the King.

‘And he was in his usual humour by the look of you.’

Grafton lifted his shoulder and dipped something into Bute’s pocket.

‘Don’t be put out,’ he said. ‘It was ungraciously given but it least it is yours and he could not withhold it.’

‘What...’ cried Bute putting his hand into his pocket and drawing out the gold key.

‘It is yours since you are to be the Prince’s Groom of the Stole.’

‘But the King...’

‘Would not present it to you himself. He asked me to slip it to you.’

‘But...it is an insult.’

‘My dear fellow, George is insulting someone every minute of his life. He always has. It’s a habit. And you know his habits. Don’t take it to heart.’

‘Do you mean to say he wouldn’t even see me to hand me the key?’

‘That’s it. However, you have the key and that’s all that matters.’

‘Yes,’ said Bute slowly. ‘I have the key.’

But it was an insult nonetheless.

There was another shock ahead of him Miss Elizabeth Chudleigh was waiting to have a word with him He was surprised. He wondered why she should wish to see him and for a moment he thought she had come to give him some news of George’s Quakeress.

She was a very beautiful woman, Miss Chudleigh—beautiful, bold and brazen. He was certain that she had passed through many adventures, and wondered why she had not married. Not still mourning for Hamilton surely; it was years since he had married the famous beauty Elizabeth Gunning.

‘It is good of you to call on me,’ said Bute, and she smiled her very bold smile and he wondered whether it held an invitation. He would have to let her know that there was no place in his affection even for such an exciting woman. He could consider no other mistress but the Princess Augusta. ‘I am glad that you did. I wanted to congratulate you on the very excellent entertainment you gave for the Prince’s birthday. His Highness was delighted and felt it was so good of you to take such pains to please him.’

‘It was a glittering occasion, was it not? And how gratified I am that the Prince and you, Lord Bute, enjoyed it. I trust the Princess did also.’

‘We were all delighted. I can assure you that.’

‘Such a costly entertainment! Ah, my lord, you doubtless would not think so. But I am not as rich as you are.’

‘You are a very fortunate young lady to be able to afford such entertainments.’

‘That is the trouble, my lord. I can’t.’

‘That hardly seems so on this magnificent occasion.’

She laughed light-heartedly but there was a steely quality in her flashing eyes. ‘Well, my lord, I knew I had good friends.’

‘You mean you are in debt?’

She lifted her hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling in mock dismay.

‘I am sure the Princess will be displeased. You know that she disapproves of the members of her household becoming involved in financial difficulties.’

‘But for the sake of the Prince of Wales…’

‘I do not understand you, Miss Chudleigh.’

‘We are all concerned for his happiness. I know. I think he is at times a little anxious. He thinks a great deal of his little Quakeress tucked away in Tottenham.’

‘I do not think you should talk of such matters, Miss Chudleigh.’

She was smiling at him slyly. She was a woman who could convey a great deal by a look, by a gesture, by the emphasis she put on a word.

‘In view of your position in the household, my lord, I felt sure you would agree with me that we should help to make the Prince happy. If this affair of his were brought into the open...Oh, there are rumours now of a lady of Islington, but people are not sure and there are always rumours; I think for the sake of the Prince we should keep it...just a rumour.’

Oh God, thought Bute. The woman is blackmailing me. She is a menace. She is going to spread rumours of myself and the Princess. Not that there were not rumours already; but a woman who had lived in the Princess’s intimate circle would be able to supply details...any details she liked to invent and she would be believed. If she whispered to the Prince, that prim young man would be horrified. It seemed incredible that he had no idea of the true relationship between his mother and Bute, but it was the case. And if he knew...And worse still if the woman started to talk of his affair with the Quaker; if she put out her highly coloured version...oh, disaster!